The Photographic History of The Civil War: in ten volumes, Thousands of Scenes Photographed 1861-65, with Text by many Special Authorities, Volume 3: The Decisive Battles.
Francis Trevelyan Miller, Ed.

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Part 3. closing in

Henry W. Elson

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Charleston, the uncaptured port

Confederate garrison cooking dinner in ruined Sumter--1864

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The Confederate Camp Washington. Locked in on the sandy beach near Sullivan inlet where the South Carolina warriors maintained their military post for four years

Charleston's famous Zouave cadets drilling at Castle Pinckney

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Inside Fort Moultrie--looking eastward

Outside Fort Johnson--Sumter in the distance

The desolate interior of Sumter in September, 1863, after the guns of the Federal fleet had been pounding it for many weeks

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In Charleston after the bombardment So long as the Confederate flag flew over the ramparts of Sumter, Charleston remained the one stronghold of the South that was firmly held. That flag was never struck. It was lowered for an evacuation, not a surrender. The story of Charleston's determined resistance did not end in triumph for the South, but it did leave behind it a sunset glory, in which the valor and dash of the Federal attack is paralleled by the heroism and self-sacrifice of the Confederate defense, in spite of wreck and ruin.

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The investment of Petersburg

On Grant's city Point railroad--a new kind of siege gun

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Where the photographer “drew fire” : the man who remembered. June 21, 1864, is the exact date of the photograph that made this picture and those on the three following pages. A story goes with them, told by one of the very men pictured here. As he looked at it forty-six years later, how vividly the whole scene came back to him! This is Battery B, First Pennsylvania Light Artillery, known as Cooper's Battery of the Fifth Corps, under General G. K. Warren. On the forenoon of this bright June day, Brady, the photographer, drove his light wagon out to the entrenchments. The Confederates lay along the sky-line near where rose the ruined chimney of a house belonging to a planter named Taylor. Approaching Captain Cooper, Brady politely asked if he could take a picture of the battery, when just about to fire. At the command, from force of habit, the men jumped to their positions. Hardly a face was turned toward the camera. They might be oblivious of its existence. The cannoneer rams home a charge. The gunner “thumbs the vent” --but “our friend the enemy” just over the hill observes the movement, and, thinking it means business, opens up. Away goes Brady's horse, scattering chemicals and plates. The gun in the foreground is ready to send a shell across the open ground, but Captain Cooper reserves his fire. Brady, seeing his camera is uninjured, recalls his assistant and takes the other photographs, moving his instrument a little to the rear. And the man who saw it then, sees it all again to-day just as it was. He is even able to pick out many of the men by name. Their faces come back to him. Turning the page, may be seen Captain James H. Cooper, leaning on his sword, and Lieutenant Alcorn, on the extreme right. In the photograph above is Lieutenant Miller, back of the gun. Lieutenant James A. Gardner was the man who saw all this, and in the picture on the preceding page he appears seated on the trail of the gun to the left in the act of sighting the gun. The other officers shown in this picture were no longer living when, in 1911, he described the actors in the drama that the glass plate had preserved forty-six years.

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Just as the camera caught them: the man who remembered. General Warren's Corps had arrived in front of Petersburg on the 17th of June, 1864, and Battery B of the First Pennsylvania Light Artillery was put into position near the Avery house. Before them the Confederates were entrenched, with Beauregard in command. On the 17th, under cover of darkness, the Confederates fell back to their third line, just visible beyond the woods to the left in the first picture. Early the next morning Battery B was advanced to the line of entrenchments shown above, and a sharp interchange of artillery fire took place in the afternoon. So busy were both sides throwing up entrenchments and building forts and lunettes that there had been very little interchange of compliments in the way of shells or bullets at this point until Photographer Brady's presence and the gathering of men of Battery B at their posts called forth the well-pointed salute. Men soon became accustomed to artillery and shell-fire. It was not long before Battery D was advanced from the position shown above to that held by the Confederates on the 21st of June, and there Fort Morton was erected, and beyond the line of woods the historic Fort Stedman, the scene of some of the bloodiest fighting before Petersburg. If you look closely at the second photograph, you will perceive a man in civilian clothes; Lieutenant Gardner (standing just back of the man with the haversack) thinks that this is Mr. Brady himself. There are fifteen people in this picture whom Lieutenant Gardner, of this battery, recognized after a lapse of forty-six years and can recall by name. There may be more gallant Pennsylvanians who, on studying this photograph, will see themselves and their comrades, surviving and dead, as once they fought on the firing-line.

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“Where is Grant?” : heavy artillery just arrived before Petersburg--1864. this heavy Federal battery looks straight across the low-lying country to Petersburg. Its spires show in the distance. The smiling country is now to be a field of blood and suffering. For Grant's Army, unperceived, has swung around from Cold Harbor, and “the Confederate cause was lost when Grant crossed the James,” declared the Southern General Ewell. It was a mighty and a masterful move, practicable only because of the tremendous advantages the Federals held in the undisputed possession of the waterways, the tremendous fleet of steamers, barges, and river craft that made a change of base and transportation easy. Petersburg became the objective of the great Army under Grant. His movements to get there had not been heralded; they worked like well-oiled machinery. “where is Grant?” frantically asked Beauregard of Lee. The latter, by his despatches, shows that he could not answer with any certainty. In fact, up to the evening of the 13th of June, when the Second Corps, the advance of the Army of the Potomac, reached the north bank of the James, Lee could not learn the truth. By midnight of the 15th, bridges were constructed, and following the Second Corps, the Ninth began to cross. But already the Fifth and Sixth Corps and part of the Army of the James were on their way by water from White House to city Point. The Petersburg campaign had begun. Lee's Army drew its life from the great fields and stock regions south and southwest of Richmond. With the siege of Petersburg, the railroad center of the state, this source of supply was more and more cut off, until six men were made to live on the allowance first given to each separate Southern soldier. Outnumbered three to one in efficient men, with the Cold of winter coming on and its attendant hardships in prospect, no wonder the indomitable Southern bravery was tried to the utmost. Sherman was advancing. The beginning of the end was near.

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The busiest place in Dixie city Point, just after its capture by Butler. From June, 1864, until April, 1865, city Point, at the juncture of the Appomattox and the James, was a Point of entry and departure for more vessels than any city of the South including even New Orleans in times of peace. Here landed supplies that kept an army numbering, with fighting force and supernumeraries, nearly one hundred and twenty thousand well-supplied, well-fed, well-contented, and well-munitioned men in the field. This was the marvelous base — safe from attack, secure from molestation. It was meals and money that won at Petersburg, the bravery of full stomachs and warm-clothed bodies against the desperation of starved and shivering out-numbered men. A glance at this picture tells the story. There is no need of rehearsing charges, counter-charges, mines, and counter-mines. Here lies the reason — Petersburg had to fall. As we look back with a retrospective eye on this scene of plenty and abundance, well may the American heart be proud that only a few miles away were men of their own blood enduring the hardships that the defenders of Petersburg suffered in the last campaign of starvation against numbers and plenty.

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A movable menace: the Railroad mortar. the 17,000-pound mortar, “Dictator,” was run on a flat-car from point to point on a curve of the Railroad track along the bank of the Appomattox. It was manned and served before Petersburg, July 9-31, 1864, by Company G, First Connecticut artillery, during its stay. When its charge of fourteen pounds of powder was First fired, the car broke under the shock; but a second car was prepared by the engineers, strengthened by additional beams, tied strongly by iron rods and covered with iron-plating. This enabled the “Dictator” to be used at various points, and during the siege it fired in all forty-five rounds--nineteen of which were fired during the battle of the Crater. It was given at last a permanent emplacement near Battery no. 4--shown on the following pages.

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the cause was lost, but the end was not yet. The noble Army of Northern Virginia, once, twice conqueror of empire, must bite the dust before its formidable adversary. --Lieutenant-General James Longstreet, C. S. A., in From Manassas to Appomattox.

the disastrous failure of the Union Army on the sanguinary battlefield of Cold Harbor, in June, 1864, destroyed Grant's last chance to turn the Confederate right flank north of Richmond. He could still try to turn Lee's left and invest Richmond from the north, but this would not have interfered with the lines of supply over the James River and the railroads from the South and West. The city could have resisted for an indefinite time. If Richmond were to fall, it must be besieged from the South.

the movement from Cold Harbor began after dark on June 12th, and Meade's whole Army was safely over the James River at Wilcox's Landing by midnight on the 16th of June. The little city of Petersburg is situated twenty-one miles South of Richmond on the Southern bank of the Appomattox, a small stream threading its way through the Virginia tidewater belt, almost parallel with the James, into which it flows. In itself the town was of little value to either Army. But it was the doorway to Richmond from the South. Three railroads from Southern points converged here. To reach the Confederate capital, Petersburg must first be battered down. At this time the town ought not to have been difficult to capture, for its defenses were but weak entrenchments, and they were not formidably manned. General Smith, who reached Bermuda hundred by water, with his corps, on the night of the 14th, was ordered by Butler, under instructions from Grant, to move on Petersburg at daylight. [189]

The diggers at Petersburg--1864 there was not a day during the whole of the nine months siege of Petersburg that pick and shovel were idle. At first every man had to turn to and become for the nonce a laborer in the ditches. But in an army of one hundred and ten thousand men, in the maintenance of Camp discipline, there were always soldier delinquents who for some infringement of military rules or some neglected duty were sentenced to extra work under the watchful eye of an officer and an armed sentry. Generally, these small punishments meant six to eight hours digging, and here we see a group of Federal soldiers thus employed. They are well within the outer chain of forts, near where the military road joins the Weldon & Petersburg Railroad. The presence of the camera man has given them a moment's relaxation.

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the Confederate forces at Petersburg were now commanded by General Beauregard. He had conjectured what Grant's plans might be, and in order to prevent the capture of the town and enable him to hold Butler at Bermuda hundred, he called on Lee for immediate reenforcement. But the latter, not yet convinced that Grant was not moving on Richmond, sent only Hoke's division. On the day after Meade began to move his army toward the James, Lee left the entrenchments at Cold Harbor. Keeping to the right and rear of the Union lines of march, by the morning of the 16th, he had thrown a part of his force to the south side of the James, and, by the evening of the 18th, the last of the regiments had united with those of Beauregard, and the two great opposing armies were once more confronting each other — this time for a final settlement of the issue at arms. The Union army out-numbered that of the Confederates, approximately, two to one.

the contest for Petersburg had already begun. For two days the rapidly gathering armies had been combating with each other. On June 15th, General Smith pushed his way toward the weakly entrenched lines of the city. General Beauregard moved his men to an advanced line of rifle-pits. Here the initial skirmish occurred. The Confederates were driven to the entrenched works of Petersburg, and not until evening was a determined attack made upon them. At this time Hancock, “the superb,” came on the field. Night was falling but a bright moon was shining, and the Confederate redoubts, manned by a little over two thousand men, might have been carried by the Federals. But Hancock, waiving rank, yielded to Smith in command. No further attacks were made and a golden opportunity for the Federals was lost.

by the next morning the Confederate trenches were beginning to fill with Hoke's troops. The Federal attack was not made until afternoon, when the fighting was severe for three hours, and some brigades of the Ninth Corps assisted the Second and Eighteenth. The Confederates were driven back [191]

Mahone, “the hero of the Crater” General William Mahone, C. S. A. It was through the promptness and valor of General Mahone that the Southerners, on July 30, 1864, were enabled to turn back upon the Federals the disaster threatened by the hidden mine. On the morning of the explosion there were but eighteen thousand Confederates left to hold the ten miles of lines about Petersburg. Everything seemed to favor Grant's plans for the crushing of this force. Immediately after the mine was sprung, a terrific cannonade was opened from one hundred and fifty guns and mortars to drive back the Confederates from the breach, while fifty thousand Federals stood ready to charge upon the panic-stricken foe. But the foe was not panic-stricken long. Colonel McMaster, of the Seventeenth South Carolina, gathered the remnants of General Elliott's brigade and held back the Federals massing at the Crater until General Mahone arrived at the head of three brigades. At once he prepared to attack the Federals, who at that moment were advancing to the left of the Crater. Mahone ordered a counter-charge. In his inspiring presence it swept with such vigor that the Federals were driven back and dared not risk another assault. At the Crater, Lee had what Grant lacked — a man able to direct the entire engagement.

[192] some distance and made several unsuccessful attempts during the night to recover their lost ground. Before the next noon, June 17th, the battle was begun once more. Soon there were charges and countercharges along the whole battle-front. Neither side yielded. The gray and blue lines surged back and forth through all the afternoon. The dusk of the evening was coming on and there was no prospect of a cessation of the conflict. The Union troops were pressing strongly against the Confederates. There was a terrible onslaught, which neither powder nor lead could resist. A courier, dashing across the field, announced to Beauregard the rout of his army. Soon the panic-stricken Confederate soldiers were swarming in retreat. The day seemed to be irreparably lost. Then, suddenly in the dim twilight, a dark column was seen emerging from the wooded ravines to the rear, and General Gracie, with his brigade of twelve hundred gallant Alabamians, plunged through the smoke, leapt into the works, and drove out the Federals. Now the battle broke out afresh, and with unabated fury continued until after midnight.

Early on the morning of the 18th, a General assault was ordered upon the whole Confederate front. The skirmishers moved forward but found the works, where, on the preceding day, such desperate fighting had occurred, deserted. During the night, Beauregard had successfully made a retrograde movement. He had found the old line too long for the number of his men and had selected a shorter one, from five hundred to one thousand yards to the rear, that was to remain the Confederate wall of the city during the siege. But there were no entrenchments here and the weary battle-worn soldiers at once set to work to dig them, for the probable renewal of the contest. In the darkness and through the Early morning hours, the men did with whatever they could find as tools — some with their bayonets, or split canteens, while others used their hands. This was the beginning of those massive works that defied the army of Grant before Petersburg for nearly a year. By noon [193]

What eight thousand pounds of powder did the Crater, torn by the mine within Elliott's salient. At dawn of July 30, 1864, the fifty thousand Federal troops waiting to make a charge saw a great mass of earth hurled skyward like a water-spout. As it spread out into an immense cloud, scattering guns, carriages, timbers, and what were once human beings, the front ranks broke in panic; it looked as if the mass were descending upon their own heads. The men were quickly rallied; across the narrow plain they charged, through the awful breach, and up the heights beyond to gain Cemetery Ridge. But there were brave fighters on the other side still left, and delay among the Federals enabled the Confederates to rally and re-form in time to drive the Federals back down the steep sides of the Crater. There, as they struggled amidst the horrible debris, one disaster after another fell upon them. Huddled together, the mass of men was cut to pieces by the canister poured upon them from well-planted Confederate batteries. At last, as a forlorn hope, the colored troops were sent forward; and they, too, were hurled back into the Crater and piled upon their white comrades.

[194] of that day they had assumed quite a defensive character. Again the Federals attempted to break the Confederate line. All during the afternoon, regiments were hurled against the newly made works. Artillery bombarded here and there with but little effect. At times the attacking force would come within thirty yards of the entrenchments, only to recoil. Night came, and in front of the trenches the ranks of the Union dead lay thickly strewn.

during these four days, divisions and batteries were being added to both armies, and when the Union assault was successfully repulsed in the twilight hours of June 18, 1864, those two grim adversaries, Grant and Lee, stood in full battle array — this time for the final combat. The siege of Petersburg began the next day.

it was a beautiful June Sabbath. There was only the occasional boom of some great gun as it thundered along the Appomattox, or the fretful fire of picket musketry, to break the stillness. But it was not a day of rest. With might and main the two armies busily plied with pick and spade and axe.

in an incredibly short time, as if by magic, impregnable bastioned works began to loom about Petersburg. More than thirty miles of frowning redoubts, connected with extended breastworks, strengthened by mortar batteries and field-works of every description, lined the fields near the Appomattox. In front were abatis — bushy entanglements and timber slashings. Bomb-proofs and parapets completed these cordons of offense and defense — the one constructed to keep the Federals out; the other to keep the Confederates in. So formidable were the works, that only twice during the siege was there any serious attempt made by either army upon the entrenchments of the other, and both assaults were failures.

it was Grant's purpose to extend his lines to the south and west, until they would finally envelop Lee's right flank, and then strike at the railroads, upon which the Confederate army and Richmond depended for supplies. On June 21st, two corps, [195]

[196] the Second and Sixth, moved out of their entrenchments to capture the Weldon Railroad, and to extend the line of investment. The region to be traversed was one characteristic of the tidewater belt — dense forests and swampy lowlands, cut by many small creeks. The morning of June 22d found the two army corps in the midst of tangled wilderness. There was some delay in bringing these divisions together — thus leaving a wide gap. While the troops were waiting here, two divisions of A. P. Hill's corps were advancing against them. Hill led Mahone's division through a ravine close by. Screened by the intervening ridge, the Confederates quickly formed in line of battle, dashed through the pine forest, with a fierce, wild yell, and swiftly and suddenly burst through the gap between the two Federal corps, attacking the flank and rear of Barlow's division. A withering volley of musketry, before which the Northerners could not stand, plowed through their ranks. The Federal line was doubled upon itself. The terrific onslaught was continued by the Confederates and resulted in forging to the entrenchments and capturing seventeen hundred prisoners, four guns, and several colors. At dusk Hill returned to his entrenchments. The Second and Sixth corps were joined in a new position.

at the same time the Cavalry, under General James H. Wilson, including Kautz's division, started out to destroy the railroads. The Confederate Cavalry leader, General W. H. F. Lee, followed closely, and there were several sharp engagements. The Union Cavalry leader succeeded, however, in destroying a considerable length of track on both the Weldon and South side railroads between June 22d and 27th. Then he turned for the works at Petersburg, but found it a difficult task. The woods were alive with Confederates. Infantry swarmed on every hand. Cavalry hung on the Federals' flanks and rear at every step. Artillery and wagon trains were being captured constantly. During the entire night of June 28th, the Union troopers were constantly [197]

An oasis in the desert of war throughout all the severe fighting south of Petersburg the Aiken house and its inhabitants remained unharmed, their safety respected by the combatants on both sides. The little farmhouse near the Weldon Railroad between the lines of the two hostile armies was remembered for years by many veterans on both sides. When Grant, after the battle of the Crater, began to force his lines closer to the west of Petersburg the Weldon Railroad became an objective and General Warren's command pushed forward on August 18, 1864, and after a sharp fight with the Confederates, established themselves in an advance position near Ream's Station. Three gallant assaults by the Confederates on the three succeeding days failed to dislodge the Federals. In these engagements the tide of battle ebbed and flowed through the woods and through thickets of vine and underbrush more impenetrable even than the “Wilderness.”

[198] harassed on every hand. They fell back in every direction. The two divisions became separated and, driven at full speed in front of the Confederate squadrons, became irreparably broken, and when they finally reached the Union lines — the last of them on July 2d--it was in straggling parties in wretched plight.

on June 25th, Sheridan returned from his raid on the Virginia Central Railroad. He had encountered Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee at Trevilian Station on June 11th, and turned back after doing great damage to the Railroad. His supply of ammunition did not warrant another engagement.

now ensued about five weeks of quiet during which time both generals were strengthening their fortifications. However, the Federals were covertly engaged in an undertaking that was destined to result in a conspicuous failure. While the Northern soldiers were enduring the rays of a blistering July sun behind the entrenchments, one regiment was delving underneath in the cool, moist earth. It was the forty-eighth Pennsylvania regiment of the Ninth Corps, made up mostly of miners from the upper Schuylkill coal-district of Pennsylvania. From June 25th until July 23d, these men were boring a tunnel from the rear of the Union works to a point under-neath the Confederate fortifications. Working under the greatest difficulties, with inadequate tools for digging, and hand-barrows made out of cracker boxes, in which to carry away the earth, there was excavated in this time a passage-way five hundred and ten feet in length, terminating in left and right lateral galleries, thirty-seven and thirty-eight feet respectively. Into these lateral galleries eight thousand pounds of gunpowder were packed and tamped, and a fuse attached. On July 28th, everything was ready for the match to be applied and for the gigantic upheaval, sure to follow.

Grant, in order to get a part of Lee's army away, had sent Hancock's Corps and two divisions of cavalry north of the James, as if he might attack Richmond. The ruse was successful. Preparations were then completed to fire the mine, [199]

[200] tear a gap in the Confederate works, and rush the Union troops into the opening. A Division of colored soldiers, under General Ferrero, was selected and thoroughly drilled to lead the charge. Everything was in readiness for a successful attack, but at the last moment the colored Division was replaced by the First Division of the Ninth Corps, under General Ledlie. The explosion was to take place at half-past 3 on the morning of July 30th. The appointed time had come. Everything required was in its place, ready to perform its part. Less than four hundred feet in front were the Confederate works, and directly beneath them were four tons of powder waiting to perform their deadly work.

then the Federals applied the match. The fuse sputtered as the consuming flame ate its way to the magazines within the tunnel. The men waited in breathless suspense. In another moment the earth would be rent by the subterranean upheaval. Minute after minute passed. The delay was unbearable. Something must have gone wrong. A gallant sergeant of the forty-eighth Pennsylvania, Henry Rees by name, volunteered to enter the gallery and find out why the fuse had failed. It had parted within fifty feet of the powder. Rees returned for materials to resplice the fuse, and on the way out met Lieutenant Jacob Douty. The two men made the necessary repairs; the fire was again applied, and then — at twenty minutes to five--the ground underneath trembled as if by an earthquake, a solid mass of earth shot two hundred feet into the air, and a flame of fire burst from the vent as from a new-born volcano. Smoke rose after the ascending column. There in mid-air, earth, cannon, timbers, sand-bags, human beings, smoke, and fire, hung suspended an instant, and bursting asunder, fell back into and around the smoking crater where three hundred Confederates had met their end.

when the cloud of smoke had cleared away, the waiting troops of Ledlie charged, Colonel Marshall at the head of the Second Brigade, leading the way. They came to an immense [201]

[202] opening, one hundred and seventy feet long, sixty feet wide, and thirty feet deep. They climbed the rim, looked down into the pit at the indescribable horrors, and then plunged into the crater. Here, they huddled in inextricable confusion. The two brigades poured in until the yawning pit was crowded with the disorganized mass. All semblance of organization vanished. In the confusion, officers lost power to recognize, much less to control, their own troops. A regiment climbed the slope, but finding that no one was following, went back to the crater.

the stunned and paralyzed Confederates were not long in grasping the situation. Batteries were soon planted where they could sweep the approach to the crater. This cut off the possibility of retreat. Then into the pit itself poured a stream of wasting fire, until it had become a veritable slaughter-house. Into this death-trap, the sun was sending down its shafts until it became as a furnace. Attempts were made to pass around the crater and occupy Cemetery Hill, which had been the objective of the Federals. But the withering fire prevented. The colored troops, who had been originally trained to lead in the charge, now tried to save the day. They passed by the side of the crater and started for the crest of the Hill. They had not gone far when the Confederates delivered a countercharge that broke their ranks.

the Confederates were being rapidly reenforced. At eight o'clock Mahone's division of Georgians and Virginians swept onto the field, to the scene of the conflict. They had been hidden from view until they were almost ready for the charge. The Federals, seeing the intended attack, made ready to resist it. Lieutenant-Colonel Bross of the Twenty-ninth colored regiment sprang upon the edge of the crater with the Union flag in his hand and was quickly struck down. The men began to scramble out after him, but before a line could be formed the Confederates were on them, and the Federals were driven back into the pit, already overflowing with the living and the dead. Huge missiles from Confederate mortars [203]

[204] rained into the awful chasm. The muskets left by the retreating Federals were thrown like pitchforks among the huddled troops. The shouts, the explosions, the screams, and groans added to the horror of the carnage. The clay in the pit was drenched with the blood of the dead and dying. The Southerners pushed in from both sides of the crater, forming a cordon of bayonets about it. The third and final charge was made, about two in the afternoon, and the bloody fight at the crater was ended as the brigade commanders followed Burnside's order to withdraw to the Federal lines. Both of Ledlie's brigade commanders were captured in the crater. The total Federal loss in this disastrous affair was over thirty-nine hundred, of whom all but one hundred were in the Ninth Corps. The Confederates lost about one thousand.

now came a season of comparative quiet about Petersburg, except for the strategic maneuverings of the Federals who were trying to find weak places in the Confederate walls. On August 18th, however, Grant sent General Warren to capture the Weldon Railroad. Desperate fighting was to be expected, for this was one of the important routes along which supplies came to the Confederate capital. The Federal forces moved out quietly from their camp, but the alert Beauregard was ready for them. By the time Warren had reached the Railroad, near the Globe Tavern, four miles from Petersburg, he was met by a force under Heth which at once drove him back. Rallying his troops, Warren entrenched on the Railroad.

the fight was renewed on the next day, when, strongly reenforced by Lee, the Confederates burst suddenly upon the Federals. Mahone thrust his gallant division through the Federal skirmish line and then turned and fought from the rear, while another division struck the right wing. The Union force was soon in confusion; more than two thousand were taken prisoners, including General Joseph Hayes, and but for the arrival of the Ninth Corps, the field would have been lost. Two days later, Lee again attacked the position by massing [205]

The defenders' counter-mine the sinister burrow opens within the Confederate Fort Mahone, seen more fully at the top of the preceding page. Fort Sedgwick, directly opposite Fort Mahone, had been originally captured from the Confederates and its defenses greatly strengthened. So galling did its fire become, and so important was its position to the Confederates, that early in the siege they planned to lay a mine in order to regain it and perhaps break through the Federal lines and raise the siege. The distance across the intervening plain was but fifteen hundred feet. The Confederates ran their main gallery somewhat more than a third of this distance before finally abandoning it, the difficulties of the undertaking having proved too great. This Fort was named after General William Mahone, who was conspicuously engaged in the defense of Petersburg, and whose gallant conduct at the explosion of the Federal mine under Elliott's salient saved the day to the Confederates. Weak as were the defenses of Petersburg in comparison with the strong investing works of the Federals, they withstood all assaults during nine months except when Elliott's salient was captured during the battle of the Crater.

[206] [207] [208] thirty guns and pouring volley after volley of fierce fire into the ranks of blue. The Union lines stood firm and returned the fire. Finally, the fighting Mahone, with his matchless band, was brought to turn the tide. The attack was made with his usual impetuousness, but the blue-clad riflemen withstood the terrific charge, and the serried ranks of Mahone fell back. The Weldon Railroad was lost to the Confederacy.

Hancock, who had returned from the north side of the James, proceeded to destroy the road, without hindrance, until three days later, August 25th, when General A. P. Hill made his appearance and Hancock retreated to some hastily built breastworks at Ream's Station. The Confederate attack was swift and terrific. The batteries broke the Union lines. The men were panic-stricken and were put to flight. Hancock tried in vain to rally his troops, but for once this splendid soldier, who had often seen his men fall but not fail, was filled with agony at the rout of his soldiers. Their rifle-pits had been lost, their guns captured and turned upon them. Finally, General Nelson A. Miles succeeded in rallying a few men, formed a new line and, with the help of some dismounted cavalry, partly regained their former position. The night came on and, under cover of darkness, Hancock withdrew his shattered columns.

The two great opposing armies had now come to a deadlock. For weeks they lay in their entrenchments, each waiting for the other to move. Each knew that it was an almost hopeless task to assail the other's position. At the end of September, General Ord, with the Eighteenth Corps, and General Birney, with the Tenth, captured Fort Harrison north of the James, securing a vantage-point for threatening Richmond. The Union line had been extended to within three miles of the South Side Railroad, and on October 27th, practically the whole Army of the Potomac was put in motion to secure this other avenue of transportation to Richmond. After severe fighting for one day the attempt was given up, and the Union troops returned to the entrenchments in front of Petersburg.

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Sherman's final campaigns

W. T. Sherman on Horseback.

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Waiting for the march to the sea: Camp of the first Michigan engineers at Atlanta, autumn, 1864. After the capture of Atlanta, says Sherman, “all the army, officers and men, seemed to relax more or less and sink into a condition of idleness.” All but the engineers! For it was their task to construct the new lines of fortifications surveyed by General Poe so that the city could be held by a small force while troops were detached in pursuit of Hood. The railroad lines and bridges along the route by which the army had come had to be repaired so that the sick and wounded and prisoners could be sent back to Chattanooga and the army left free of encumbrances before undertaking the march to the sea. In the picture, their work practically done, the men of the First Michigan Engineers are idling about the old salient of the Confederate lines southeast of Atlanta near which their Camp was pitched. The organization was the best known and one of the most efficient of the Michigan regiments. It was composed almost entirely of mechanics and trained engineers and mustered eighteen hundred strong. The work of these men dotted the whole theater of war in the West. The bridges and trestles of their making, if combined, would have to be measured by the mile, and many of them were among the most wonderful feats of military engineering. The First Michigan Engineers could fight, too, for a detachment of them under Colonel Innes at Stone's River successfully defended the army trains from an attack by Wheeler's cavalry. The march to the sea could not have been made without these men.

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The end of the railroad depot The crumpled wreck is hardly recognizable as the same spacious train-shed that sheltered such human activities as those pictured opposite, yet this is the Atlanta depot. But such destruction was far from the wanton outrage that it naturally seemed to those whose careers it rudely upset. As early as September, Sherman, with Atlanta on his hands, had deemed it essential for the prosecutions of his movements and the end of the war that the city should be turned into a military post. So he determined “to remove the entire civil population, and to deny to all civilians from the rear the expected profits of civil trade. This was to avoid the necessity of a heavy garrison to hold the position, and prevent the crippling of the armies in the fields as heretofore by ‘detachments’ to guard and protect the interests of a hostile population.” The railroad station, as the heart of the modern artery of business, was second in importance only to the buildings and institutions of the Confederate government itself, as a subject for elimination.

[214]

I only regarded the march from Atlanta to Savannah as a “shift of base,” as the transfer of a strong army, which had no opponent, and had finished its then work, from the interior to a point on the sea coast, from which it could achieve other important results. I considered this march as a means to an end, and not as an essential act of war. Still, then as now, the march to the sea was generally regarded as something extraordinary, something anomalous, something out of the usual order of events; whereas, in fact, I simply moved from Atlanta to Savannah, as one step in the direction of Richmond, a movement that had to be met and defeated, or the war was necessarily at an end. --General W. T. Sherman, in his Memoirs.

The march to the sea, in which General William T. Sherman won undying fame in the Civil War, is one of the greatest pageants in the world's warfare — as fearful in its destruction as it is historic in its import. But this was not Sherman's chief achievement; it was an easy task compared with the great campaign between Chattanooga and Atlanta through which he had just passed. “As a military accomplishment it was little more than a grand picnic,” declared one of his division commanders, in speaking of the march through Georgia and the Carolinas.

Almost immediately after the capture of Atlanta, Sherman, deciding to remain there for some time and to make it a Federal military center, ordered all the inhabitants to be removed. General Hood pronounced the act one of ingenious cruelty, transcending any that had ever before come to his notice in the dark history of the war. Sherman insisted that his act was one of kindness, and that Johnston and Hood themselves had done the same — removed families from their homes — in other places. The decision was fully carried out. [215]

The Atlanta bank before the march to the sea As this photograph was taken, the wagons stood in the street of Atlanta ready to accompany the Federals in their impending march to the sea. The most interesting thing is the bank building on the corner, completely destroyed, although around it stand the stores of merchants entirely untouched. Evidently there had been here faithful execution of Sherman's orders to his engineers — to destroy all buildings and property of a public nature, such as factories, foundries, railroad stations, and the like; but to protect as far as possible strictly private dwellings and enterprises. Those of a later generation who witnessed the growth of Atlanta within less than half a century after this photograph was taken, and saw tall office-buildings and streets humming with industry around the location in this photograph, will find in it an added fascination.

[216]

Many of the people of Atlanta chose to go southward, others to the north, the latter being transported free, by Sherman's order, as far as Chattanooga.

Shortly after the middle of September, Hood moved his army from Lovejoy's Station, just south of Atlanta, to the vicinity of Macon. Here Jefferson Davis visited the encampment, and on the 22d he made a speech to the homesick Army of Tennessee, which, reported in the Southern newspapers, disclosed to Sherman the new plans of the Confederate leaders. These involved nothing less than a fresh invasion of Tennessee, which, in the opinion of President Davis, would put Sherman in a predicament worse than that in which Napoleon found himself at Moscow. But, forewarned, the Federal leader prepared to thwart his antagonists. The line of the Western and Atlantic Railroad was more closely guarded. Divisions were sent to Rome and to Chattanooga. Thomas was ordered to Nashville, and Schofield to Knoxville. Recruits were hastened from the North to these points, in order that Sherman himself might not be weakened by the return of too many troops to these places.

Hood, in the hope of leading Sherman away from Atlanta, crossed the Chattahoochee on the 1st of October, destroyed the railroad above Marietta and sent General French against Allatoona. It was the brave defense of this place by General John M. Corse that brought forth Sherman's famous message, “Hold out; relief is coming,” sent by his signal officers from the heights of Kenesaw Mountain, and which thrilled the North and inspired its poets to eulogize Corse's bravery in verse. Corse had been ordered from Rome to Allatoona by signals from mountain to mountain, over the heads of the Confederate troops, who occupied the valley between. Reaching the mountain pass soon after midnight, on October 5th, Corse added his thousand men to the nine hundred already there, and soon after daylight the battle began. General French, in command of the Confederates, first [217]

“Tuning up” --a daily drill in the captured fort Here Sherman's men are seen at daily drill in Atlanta. This photograph has an interest beyond most war pictures, for it gives a clear idea of the soldierly bearing of the men that were to march to the sea. There was an easy carelessness in their appearance copied from their great commander, but they were never allowed to become slouchy. Sherman was the antithesis of a martinet, but he had, in the Atlanta campaign, molded his army into the “mobile machine” that he desired it to be, and he was anxious to keep the men up to this high pitch of efficiency for the performance of still greater deeds. No better disciplined army existed in the world at the time Sherman's “bummers” set out for the sea.

[218] summoned Corse to surrender, and, receiving a defiant answer, opened with his guns. Nearly all the day the fire was terrific from besieged and besiegers, and the losses on both sides were very heavy.

During the battle Sherman was on Kenesaw Mountain, eighteen miles away, from which he could see the cloud of smoke and hear the faint reverberation of the cannons' boom. When he learned by signal that Corse was there and in command, he said, “If Corse is there, he will hold out; I know the man.” And he did hold out, and saved the stores at Allatoona, at a loss of seven hundred of his men, he himself being among the wounded, while French lost more than a thousand.

General Hood continued to move northward to Resaca and Dalton, passing over the same ground on which the two great armies had fought during the spring and summer. He destroyed the railroads, burned the ties, and twisted the rails, leaving greater havoc, if possible, in a country that was already a wilderness of desolation. For some weeks Sherman followed Hood in the hope that a general engagement would result. But Hood had no intention to fight. He went on to the banks of the Tennessee opposite Florence, Alabama. His army was lightly equipped, and Sherman, with his heavily burdened troops, was unable to catch him. Sherman halted at Gaylesville and ordered Schofield, with the Twenty-third Corps, and Stanley, with the Fourth Corps, to Thomas at Nashville.

Sherman thereupon determined to return to Atlanta, leaving General Thomas to meet Hood's appearance in Tennessee. It was about this time that Sherman fully decided to march to the sea. Some time before this he had telegraphed to Grant: “Hood . . . can constantly break my roads. I would infinitely prefer to make a wreck of the road . . . send back all my wounded and worthless, and, with my effective army, move through Georgia, smashing things to the sea.” Grant thought it best for Sherman to destroy Hood's army [219]

Cutting loose from the base, November 12th “On the 12th of November the railroad and telegraph communications with the rear were broken and the army stood detached from all friends, dependent on its own resources and supplies,” writes Sherman. Meanwhile all detachments were marching rapidly to Atlanta with orders to break up the railroad en route and “generally to so damage the country as to make it untenable to the enemy.” This was a necessary war measure. Sherman, in a home letter written from Grand Gulf, Mississippi, May 6, 1863, stated clearly his views regarding the destruction of property. Speaking of the wanton havoc wrought on a fine plantation in the path of the army, he added: “It is done, of course, by the accursed stragglers who won't fight but hang behind and disgrace our cause and country. Dr. Bowie had fled, leaving everything on the approach of our troops. Of course, devastation marked the whole path of the army, and I know all the principal officers detest the infamous practice as much as I do. Of course, I expect and do take corn, bacon, ham, mules, and everything to support an army, and don't object much to the using of fences for firewood, but this universal burning and wanton destruction of private property is not justified in war.”

[220] first, but Sherman insisted that his plan would put him on the offensive rather than the defensive. He also believed that Hood would be forced to follow him. Grant was finally won to the view that if Hood moved on Tennessee, Thomas would be able to check him. He had, on the 11th of October, given permission for the march. Now, on the 2d of November, he telegraphed Sherman at Rome: “I do not really see that you can withdraw from where you are to follow Hood without giving up all we have gained in territory. I say, then, go on as you propose.” It was Sherman, and not Grant or Lincoln, that conceived the great march, and while the march itself was not seriously opposed or difficult to carry out, the conception and purpose were masterly.

Sherman moved his army by slow and easy stages back to Atlanta. He sent the vast army stores that had collected at Atlanta, which he could not take with him, as well as his sick and wounded, to Chattanooga, destroyed the railroad to that place, also the machine-shops at Rome and other places, and on November 12th, after receiving a final despatch from Thomas and answering simply, “Despatch received — all right,” the last telegraph line was severed, and Sherman had deliberately cut himself off from all communication with the Northern States. There is no incident like it in the annals of war. A strange event it was, as Sherman observes in his memoirs. “Two hostile armies marching in opposite directions, each in the full belief that it was achieving a final and conclusive result in a great war.”

For the next two days all was astir in Atlanta. The great depot, round-house, and machine-shops were destroyed. Walls were battered down; chimneys pulled over; machinery smashed to pieces, and boilers punched full of holes. Heaps of rubbish covered the spots where these fine buildings had stood, and on the night of November 15th the vast debris was set on fire. The torch was also applied to many places in the business part of the city, in defiance of the strict orders of [221]

The bustle of departure from Atlanta

Ruins in Atlanta Sherman's men worked like beavers during their last few days in Atlanta. There was no time to be lost; the army was gotten under way with that precision which marked all Sherman's movements. In the upper picture, finishing touches are being put to the railroad, and in the lower is seen the short work that was made of such public buildings as might be of the slightest use in case the Confederates should recapture the town. As far back as Chattanooga, while plans for the Atlanta campaign were being formed, Sherman had been revolving a subsequent march to the sea in case he was successful. He had not then made up his mind whether it should be in the direction of Mobile or Savannah, but his Meridian campaign, in Mississippi, had convinced him that the march was entirely feasible, and gradually he worked out in his mind its masterly details. At seven in the morning on November 16th, Sherman rode out along the Decatur road, passed his marching troops, and near the spot where his beloved McPherson had fallen, paused for a last look at the city. “Behind us,” he says, “lay Atlanta, smouldering and in ruins, the black smoke rising high in air and hanging like a pall over the ruined city.” All about could be seen the glistening gun-barrels and white-topped wagons, “and the men marching steadily and rapidly with a cheery look and swinging pace.” Some regimental band struck up “John Brown,” and the thousands of voices of the vast army joined with a mighty chorus in song. A feeling of exhilaration pervaded the troops. This marching into the unknown held for them the allurement of adventure, as none but Sherman knew their destination. But as he worked his way past them on the road, many a group called out, “Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond.” The devil-may-care spirit of the troops brought to Sherman's mind grave thoughts of his own responsibility. He knew that success would be regarded as a matter of course, but should he fail the march would be set down as “the wild adventure of a crazy fool.” He had no intention of marching directly to Richmond, but from the first his objective was the seacoast, at Savannah or Port Royal, or even Pensacola, Florida.

[222]

Captain Poe, who had the work of destruction in charge. The court-house and a large part of the dwellings escaped the flames.

Preparations for the great march were made with extreme care. Defective wagons and horses were discarded; the number of heavy guns to be carried along was sixty-five, the remainder having been sent to Chattanooga. The marching army numbered about sixty thousand, five thousand of whom belonged to the cavalry and eighteen hundred to the artillery. The army was divided into two immense wings, the Right, the Army of the Tennessee, commanded by General O. O. Howard, and consisting of the Fifteenth and Seventeenth corps, and the Left, the Army of Georgia, by General Henry W. Slocum, composed the Fourteenth and Twentieth corps. Sherman himself was in supreme command. There were twenty-five hundred wagons, each drawn by six mules; six hundred ambulances, with two horses each, while the heavy guns, caissons, and forges were each drawn by eight horses. A twenty days supply of bread, forty of coffee, sugar, and salt was carried with the army, and a large herd of cattle was driven on foot.

In Sherman's general instructions it was provided that the army should march by four roads as nearly parallel as possible, except the cavalry, which remained under the direct control of the general commanding. The army was directed “to forage liberally on the country,” but, except along the roadside, this was to be done by organized foraging parties appointed by the brigade commanders. Orders were issued forbidding soldiers to enter private dwellings or to commit any trespass. The corps commanders were given the option of destroying mills, cotton-gins, and the like, and where the army was molested in its march by the burning of bridges, obstructing the roads, and so forth, the devastation should be made “more or less relentless, according to the measure of such hostility.” The cavalry and artillery and the foraging [223]

[224] parties were permitted to take horses, mules, and wagons from the inhabitants without limit, except that they were to discriminate in favor of the poor. It was a remarkable military undertaking, in which it was intended to remove restrictions only to a sufficient extent to meet the requirements of the march. The cavalry was commanded by General Judson Kilpatrick, who, after receiving a severe wound at Resaca, in May, had gone to his home on the banks of the Hudson, in New York, to recuperate, and, against the advice of his physician, had joined the army again at Atlanta.

On November 15th, most of the great army was started on its march, Sherman himself riding out from the city next morning. As he rode near the spot where General McPherson had fallen, he paused and looked back at the receding city with its smoking ruins, its blackened walls, and its lonely, tenantless houses. The vision of the desperate battles, of the hope and fear of the past few months, rose before him, as he tells us, “like the memory of a dream.” The day was as perfect as Nature ever gives. The men were hilarious. They sang and shouted and waved their banners in the autumn breeze. Most of them supposed they were going directly toward Richmond, nearly a thousand miles away. As Sherman rode past them they would call out, “Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond.” Only the commanders of the wings and Kilpatrick were entrusted with the secret of Sherman's intentions. But even Sherman was not fully decided as to his objective--Savannah, Georgia, or Port Royal, South Carolina--until well on the march.

There was one certainty, however — he was fully decided to keep the Confederates in suspense as to his intentions. To do this the more effectually he divided his army at the start, Howard leading his wing to Gordon by way of McDonough as if to threaten Macon, while Slocum proceeded to Covington and Madison, with Milledgeville as his goal. Both were secretly instructed to halt, seven days after starting, at Gordon [225]

[226]

From Savannah's roof-tops--1865: over the impassable marshes. No detailed maps, no written description, could show better than these clear and beautiful photographs the almost impregnable position of the city. For miles the higher ground on which it was possible to build lay on the south bank of the river. From only one direction, the westward, could Savannah be approached without difficult feats of engineering, and here the city was guarded along the lines of the Georgia Central Railroad by strong entrenchments, held by General Hardee's men. Sherman perceived that a frontal attack would not only be costly but effort thrown away, and determined that after he had taken Fort McAllister he would make a combination with the naval forces and invest the city from all sides. The march to the sea would not be completed until such a combination had been effected. On the evening of the 12th Sherman held consultation with General Howard and with General Hazen of the Fifteenth Corps. The latter received orders from Sherman in person to march down the right bank of the Ogeechee and to assault and carry Fort McAllister by storm. He was well informed as to the latter's defenses and knew that its heavier batteries pointed seaward, but that it was weak if attacked from the rear. General Hardee's brave little force of 10,000 were soon to hear the disheartening news that they were outflanked, that McAllister had fallen, and that Sherman and Admiral Dahlgren, in command of the fleet in Ossabaw Sound, were in communication. This was on the 13th of December, 1864, but it was not until nine days later that Sherman was able to send his historic despatch to President Lincoln that began with: “I beg to present you, as a Christmas gift, the City of Savannah.”

[227] [228] and Milledgeville, the latter the capital of Georgia, about a hundred miles to the southeast. These two towns were about fifteen miles apart.

General Hood and General Beauregard, who had come from the East to assist him, were in Tennessee, and it was some days after Sherman had left Atlanta that they heard of his movements. They realized that to follow him would now be futile. He was nearly three hundred miles away, and not only were the railroads destroyed, but a large part of the intervening country was utterly laid waste and incapable of supporting an army. The Confederates thereupon turned their attention to Thomas, who was also in Tennessee, and was the barrier between Hood and the Northern States.

General Sherman accompanied first one corps of his army and then another. The first few days he spent with Davis' corps of Slocum's wing. When they reached Covington, the negroes met the troops in great numbers, shouting and thanking the Lord that “deliverance” had come at last. As Sherman rode along the streets they would gather around his horse and exhibit every evidence of adoration.

The foraging parties consisted of companies of fifty men. Their route for the day in which they obtained supplies was usually parallel to that of the army, five or six miles from it. They would start out before daylight in the morning, many of them on foot; but when they rejoined the column in the evening they were no longer afoot. They were astride mules, horses, in family carriages, farm wagons, and mule carts, which they packed with hams, bacon, vegetables, chickens, ducks, and every imaginable product of a Southern farm that could be useful to an army.

In the general orders, Sherman had forbidden the soldiers to enter private houses; but the order was not strictly adhered to, as many Southern people have since testified. Sherman declares in his memoirs that these acts of pillage and violence were exceptional and incidental. On one occasion Sherman [229]

[230] saw a man with a ham on his musket, a jug of molasses under his arm, and a big piece of honey in his hand. As the man saw that he was observed by the commander, he quoted audibly to a comrade, from the general order, “forage liberally on the country.” But the general reproved him and explained that foraging must be carried on only by regularly designated parties.

It is a part of military history that Sherman's sole purpose was to weaken the Confederacy by recognized means of honorable warfare; but it cannot be denied that there were a great many instances, unknown to him, undoubtedly, of cowardly hold-ups of the helpless inhabitants, or ransacking of private boxes and drawers in search of jewelry and other family treasure. This is one of the misfortunes of war--one of war's injustices. Such practices always exist even under the most rigid discipline in great armies, and the jubilation of this march was such that human nature asserted itself in the license of warfare more than on most other occasions. General Washington met with similar situations in the American Revolution. The practice is never confined to either army in warfare.

Opposed to Sherman were Wheeler's cavalry, and a large portion of the Georgia State troops which were turned over by General G. W. Smith to General Howell Cobb. Kilpatrick and his horsemen, proceeding toward Macon, were confronted by Wheeler and Cobb, but the Federal troopers drove them back into the town. However, they issued forth again, and on November 21st there was a sharp engagement with Kilpatrick at Griswoldville. The following day the Confederates were definitely checked and retreated.

The night of November 22d, Sherman spent in the home of General Cobb, who had been a member of the United States Congress and of Buchanan's Cabinet. Thousands of soldiers encamped that night on Cobb's plantation, using his fences for camp-fire fuel. By Sherman's order, everything on the [231]

[232] plantation movable or destructible was carried away next day, or destroyed. Such is the price of war.

By the next night both corps of the Left Wing were at Milledgeville, and on the 24th started for Sandersville. Howard's wing was at Gordon, and it left there on the day that Slocum moved from Milledgeville for Irwin's Crossroads. A hundred miles below Milledgeville was a place called Millen, and here were many Federal prisoners which Sherman greatly desired to release. With this in view he sent Kilpatrick toward Augusta to give the impression that the army was marching thither, lest the Confederates should remove the prisoners from Millen. Kilpatrick had reached Waynesboro when he learned that the prisoners had been taken away. Here he again encountered the Confederate cavalry under General Wheeler. A sharp fight ensued and Kilpatrick drove Wheeler through the town toward Augusta. As there was no further need of making a feint on Augusta, Kilpatrick turned back toward the Left Wing. Wheeler quickly followed and at Thomas' Station nearly surrounded him, but Kilpatrick cut his way out. Wheeler still pressed on and Kilpatrick chose a good position at Buck Head Creek, dismounted, and threw up breastworks. Wheeler attacked desperately, but was repulsed, and Kilpatrick, after being reenforced by a brigade from Davis' corps, joined the Left Wing at Louisville.

On the whole, the great march was but little disturbed by the Confederates. The Georgia militia, probably ten thousand in all, did what they could to defend their homes and their firesides; but their endeavors were futile against the vast hosts that were sweeping through the country. In the skirmishes that took place between Atlanta and the sea the militia was soon brushed aside. Even their destroying of bridges and supplies in front of the invading army checked its progress but for a moment, as it was prepared for every such emergency. Wheeler, with his cavalry, caused more trouble, and engaged Kilpatrick's attention a large part of the time. But even he [233]

A big gun at Fort McAllister Fort McAllister is at last in complete possession of the Federals, and a group of the men who had charged over these ramparts has arranged itself before the camera as if in the very act of firing the great gun that points seaward across the marshes, toward Ossabaw Sound. There is one very peculiar thing proved by this photograph — the gun itself is almost in a fixed position as regards range and sweep of fire. Instead of the elevating screw to raise or depress the muzzle, there has been substituted a block of wood wedged with a heavy spike, and the narrow pit in which the gun carriage is sunk admits of it being turned but a foot or so to right or left. It evidently controlled one critical point in the river, but could not have been used in lending any aid to the repelling of General Hazen's attack. The officer pointing with outstretched arm is indicating the very spot at which a shell fired from his gun would fall. The men in the trench are artillerymen of General Hazen's division of the Fifteenth Corps; their appearance in their fine uniforms, polished breastplates and buttons, proves that Sherman's men could not have presented the ragged appearance that they are often pictured as doing in the war-time sketches. That Army and Navy have come together is proved also by the figure of a marine from the fleet, who is standing at “Attention” just above the breach of the gun. Next, leaning on his saber, is a cavalryman, in short jacket and chin-strap.

[234] did not seriously retard the irresistible progress of the legions of the North.

The great army kept on its way by various routes, covering about fifteen miles a day, and leaving a swath of destruction, from forty to sixty miles wide, in its wake. Among the details attendant upon the march to the sea was that of scientifically destroying the railroads that traversed the region. Battalions of engineers had received special instruction in the art, together with the necessary implements to facilitate rapid work. But the infantry soon entered this service, too, and it was a common sight to see a thousand soldiers in blue standing beside a stretch of railway, and, when commanded, bend as one man and grasp the rail, and at a second command to raise in unison, which brought a thousand railroad ties up on end. Then the men fell upon them, ripping rail and tie apart, the rails to be heated to a white heat and bent in fantastic shapes about some convenient tree or other upright column, the ties being used as the fuel with which to make the fires. All public buildings that might have a military use were burned, together with a great number of private dwellings and barns, some by accident, others wantonly. This fertile and prosperous region, after the army had passed, was a scene of ruin and desolation.

As the army progressed, throngs of escaped slaves followed in its trail, “from the baby in arms to the old negro hobbling painfully along,” says General Howard, “negroes of all sizes, in all sorts of patched costumes, with carts and broken-down horses and mules to match.” Many of the old negroes found it impossible to keep pace with the army for many days, and having abandoned their homes and masters who could have cared for them, they were left to die of hunger and exposure in that naked land.

After the Ogeechee River was crossed, the character of the country was greatly changed from that of central Georgia. No longer were there fertile farms, laden with their Southern [235]

The spoils of victory: the troops that marched to the sea become day-laborers Here are the men that marched to the sea doing their turn as day-laborers, gleefully trundling their wheelbarrows, gathering up everything of value in Fort McAllister to swell the size of Sherman's “Christmas present.” Brigadier-General W. B. Hazen, after his men had successfully stormed the stubbornly defended fort, reported the capture of twenty-four pieces of ordnance, with their equipment, forty tons of ammunition, a month's supply of food for the garrison, and the small arms of the command. In the upper picture the army engineers are busily at work removing a great 48-pounder 8-inch Columbiad that had so long repelled the Federal fleet. There is always work enough and to spare for the engineers both before and after the capture of a fortified position. In the wheel-barrows is a harvest of shells and torpedoes. These deadly instruments of destruction had been relied upon by the Confederates to protect the land approach to Fort McAllister, which was much less strongly defensible on that side than at the waterfront. While Sherman's army was approaching Savannah one of his officers had his leg blown off by a torpedo buried in the road and stepped on by his horse. After that Sherman set a line of Confederate pr soners across the road to march ahead of the army, and no more torpedoes were found. After the capture of Fort McAllister the troops set to work gingerly scraping about wherever the ground seemed to have been disturbed, trying to find and remove the dangerous hidden menaces to life. At last the ground was rendered safe and the troops settled down to the occupation of Fort McAllister where the bravely fighting little Confederate garrison had held the key to Savannah. The city was the first to fall of the Confederacy's Atlantic seaports, now almost locked from the outside world by the blockade. By the capture of Fort McAllister, which crowned the march to the sea, Sherman had numbered the days of the war. The fall of the remaining ports was to follow in quick succession, and by Washington's Birthday, 1865, the entire coast-line was to be in possession of the Federals.

Sherman's troops dismantling Fort McAllister

[236] harvests of corn and vegetables, but rather rice plantations and great pine forests, the solemn stillness of which was broken by the tread of thousands of troops, the rumbling of wagon-trains, and by the shouts and music of the marching men and of the motley crowd of negroes that followed.

Day by day Sherman issued orders for the progress of the wings, but on December 2d they contained the decisive words, “Savannah.” What a tempting prize was this fine Southern city, and how the Northern commander would add to his laurels could he effect its capture! The memories clinging about the historic old town, with its beautiful parks and its magnolia-lined streets, are part of the inheritance of not only the South, but of all America. Here Oglethorpe had bartered with the wild men of the forest, and here, in the days of the Revolution, Count Pulaski and Sergeant Jasper had given up their lives in the cause of liberty.

Sherman had partially invested the city before the middle of December; but it was well fortified and he refrained from assault. General Hardee, sent by Hood from Tennessee, had command of the defenses, with about fifteen thousand men. And there was Fort McAllister on the Ogeechee, protecting the city on the south. But this obstruction to the Federals was soon removed. General Hazen's division of the Fifteenth Corps was sent to capture the fort. At five o'clock in the afternoon of the 13th Hazen's men rushed through a shower of grape, over abatis and hidden torpedoes, scaled the parapet and captured the garrison. That night Sherman boarded the Dandelion, a Union vessel, in the river, and sent a message to the outside world, the first since he had left Atlanta.

Henceforth there was communication between the army and the Federal squadron, under the command of Admiral Dahlgren. Among the vessels that came up the river there was one that was received with great enthusiasm by the soldiers. It brought mail, tons of it, for Sherman's army, the accumulation of two months. One can imagine the eagerness [237]

[238] with which these war-stained veterans opened the longed — for letters and sought the answer to the ever-recurring question, “How are things at home?”

Sherman had set his heart on capturing Savannah; but, on December 15th, he received a letter from Grant which greatly disturbed him. Grant ordered him to leave his artillery and cavalry, with infantry enough to support them, and with the remainder of his army to come by sea to Virginia and join the forces before Richmond. Sherman prepared to obey, but hoped that he would be able to capture the city before the transports would be ready to carry him northward.

He first called on Hardee to surrender the city, with a threat of bombardment. Hardee refused. Sherman hesitated to open with his guns because of the bloodshed it would occasion, and on December 21st he was greatly relieved to discover that Hardee had decided not to defend the city, that he had escaped with his army the night before, by the one road that was still open to him, which led across the Savannah River into the Carolinas. The stream had been spanned by an improvised pontoon bridge, consisting of river-boats, with planks from city wharves for flooring and with old car-wheels for anchors. Sherman immediately took possession of the city, and on December 22d he sent to President Lincoln this message: “I beg to present to you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy guns and plenty of ammunition, and also about twenty-five thousand bales of cotton.” As a matter of fact, over two hundred and fifty guns were captured, and thirty-one thousand bales of cotton. General Hardee retreated to Charleston.

Events in the West now changed Grant's views as to Sherman's joining him immediately in Virginia. On the 16th of December, General Thomas accomplished the defeat and utter rout of Hood's army at Nashville. In addition, it was found that, owing to lack of transports, it would take at least two months to transfer Sherman's whole army by sea. Therefore, [239]

[240]

The captured capital of South Carolina This striking photograph of Columbia will stir the memory of many a veteran. One recalls marching through the two small gates in the fence with his comrades. He points out the broken wagon wheels and old iron pipe in the foreground, and explains that they are the remains of dummy cannon which the Confederates had constructed and mounted there as Sherman's army approached. There were some real cannon in the town, however, and in a window of one of the houses one of these had been mounted and opened on the Federals, who had to bring up one of their own small guns before they could dislodge the men bravely defending Columbia.

[241] [244] it was decided that Sherman should march through the Carolinas, destroying the railroads in both States as he went. A little more than a month Sherman remained in Savannah. Then he began another great march, compared with which, as Sherman himself declared, the march to the sea was as child's play. The size of his army on leaving Savannah was practically the same as when he left Atlanta--sixty thousand. It was divided into two wings, under the same commanders, Howard and Slocum, and was to be governed by the same rules. Kilpatrick still commanded the cavalry. The march from Savannah averaged ten miles a day, which, in view of the conditions, was a very high average. The weather in the early part of the journey was exceedingly wet and the roads were well-nigh impassable. Where they were not actually under water the mud rendered them impassable until corduroyed. Moreover, the troops had to wade streams, to drag themselves through swamps and quagmires, and to remove great trees that had been felled across their pathway.

The city of Savannah was left under the control of General J. G. Foster, and the Left Wing of Sherman's army under Slocum moved up the Savannah River, accompanied by Kilpatrick, and crossed it at Sister's Ferry. The river was overflowing its banks and the crossing, by means of a pontoon bridge, was effected with the greatest difficulty. The Right Wing, under Howard, embarked for Beaufort, South Carolina, and moved thence to Pocotaligo, near the Broad River, whither Sherman had preceded it, and the great march northward was fairly begun by February 1, 1865.

Sherman had given out the word that he expected to go to Charleston or Augusta, his purpose being to deceive the Confederates, since he had made up his mind to march straight to Columbia, the capital of South Carolina.

The two wings of the army were soon united and they continued their great march from one end of the State of South Carolina to the other. The men felt less restraint in devastating [245]

The men who lived off the country — headquarters guard on the march through North Carolina These men have not been picked out by the photographer on account of their healthy and well-fed appearance; they are just average samples of what the units of Sherman's army looked like as they pressed on toward Fayetteville and the last battle in the Carolinas, Bentonville, where General Johnston made a brave stand before falling back upon Raleigh. The men of the march to the sea were champions in covering ground. The condition of the roads did not seem to stop them, nor the fact that they had to fight as they pressed on. During the forced march to Bentonville the right wing, under General Howard, marched twenty miles, almost without a halt, skirmishing most of the way.

[246] the country and despoiling the people than they had felt in Georgia. The reason for this, given by Sherman and others, was that there was a feeling of bitterness against South Carolina as against no other State. It was this State that had led the procession of seceding States and that had fired on Fort Sumter and brought on the great war. No doubt this feeling, which pervaded the army, will account in part for the reckless dealing with the inhabitants by the Federal soldiery. The superior officers, however, made a sincere effort to restrain lawlessness.

On February 17th, Sherman entered Columbia, the mayor having come out and surrendered the city. The Fifteenth Corps marched through the city and out on the Camden road, the remainder of the army not having come within two miles of the city. On that night Columbia was in flames. The conflagration spread and ere the coming of the morning the best part of the city had been laid in ashes.

Before Sherman left Columbia he destroyed the machine-shops and everything else which might aid the Confederacy. He left with the mayor one hundred stand of arms with which to keep order, and five hundred head of cattle for the destitute.

As Columbia was approached by the Federals, the occupation of Charleston by the Confederates became more and more untenable. In vain had the governor of South Carolina pleaded with President Davis to reenforce General Hardee, who occupied the city. Hardee thereupon evacuated the historic old city — much of which was burned, whether by design or accident is not known — and its defenses, including Fort Sumter, the bombardment of which, nearly four years before, had precipitated the mighty conflict, were occupied by Colonel Bennett, who came over from Morris Island.

On March 11th, Sherman reached Fayetteville, North Carolina, where he destroyed a fine arsenal. Hitherto, Sherman's march, except for the annoyance of Wheeler's cavalry, had been but slightly impeded by the Confederates. But [247]

[248] henceforth this was changed. General Joseph E. Johnston, his old foe of Resaca and Kenesaw Mountain, had been recalled and was now in command of the troops in the Carolinas. No longer would the streams and the swamps furnish the only resistance to the progress of the Union army.

The first engagement came at Averysboro on March 16th. General Hardee, having taken a strong position, made a determined stand; but a division of Slocum's wing, aided by Kilpatrick, soon put him to flight, with the loss of several guns and over two hundred prisoners.

The battle of Bentonville, which took place three days after that of Averysboro, was more serious. Johnston had placed his whole army, probably thirty-five thousand men, in the form of a V, the sides embracing the village of Bentonville. Slocum engaged the Confederates while Howard was hurried to the scene. On two days, the 19th and 20th of March, Sherman's army fought its last battle in the Civil War. But Johnston, after making several attacks, resulting in considerable losses on both sides, withdrew his army during the night, and the Union army moved to Goldsboro. The losses at Bentonville were: Federal, 1,604; Confederate, 2,348.

At Goldsboro the Union army was reenforced by its junction with Schofield, who had come out of the West with over twenty-two thousand men from the army of Thomas in Tennessee. But there was little need of reenforcement. Sherman's third great march was practically over. As to the relative importance of the second and third, Sherman declares in his memoirs, he would place that from Atlanta to the sea at one, and that from Savannah through the Carolinas at ten.

Leaving his army in charge of Schofield, Sherman went to City Point, in Virginia, where he had a conference with General Grant and President Lincoln, and plans for the final campaign were definitely arranged. He returned to Goldsboro late in March, and, pursuing Johnston, received, finally, on April 26th the surrender of his army.

---

[249]

Nashville — the end in Tennessee

Guarding the Cumberland — where Thomas watched for Hood at the Nashville bridge

[250]

[251] [252]

The Army of Tennessee under General Hood, pursuing its march northward late in November and early in December, came upon the Federal forces under General Schofield at Franklin, and General Thomas at Nashville, Tennessee, where desperate battles were fought, until Hood's army was reduced to skeleton commands and forced to retreat. --Lieutenant-General James Longstreet, C. S.A., in From Manassas to Appomattox.

While Hood was turning back from Atlanta in the great northward movement, which, in the hopes of the Confederacy, would bring the Army of Tennessee to the banks of the Ohio, there was gathering at and around Nashville a force to dispute the progress of Hood. General Thomas was sent by Sherman “to take care of Tennessee,” and he was preparing to weld many fragmentary bodies of troops into a fighting army.

After a month of bold maneuvering, the advance of Hood's army appeared, on the 26th of October, at Decatur, on the south side of the Tennessee. It had been a time of perplexity to the Federal authorities and of intense alarm throughout the North. Hood had twice thrown his army between Sherman and the latter's base; had captured four garrisons, and destroyed thirty miles of railroad. His movements had been bold and brilliantly executed.

At Decatur, Hood found himself too far east to join with Forrest, whose cooperation was absolutely necessary to him. So he moved westward to Florence where the first division of his army, with but little opposition from Croxton's cavalry, crossed the Tennessee on the 31st. Forrest had gone down the river to intercept the Federal line of supplies. At Johnsonville [253]

[254] he disabled the gunboats to such an extent that they were burned to prevent their falling into his hands. The fire spread to the Federal stores on the levee and $1,500,000 of Government property thereby was destroyed. The garrison held firm. Forrest withdrew his troops and crossed the river above the town. He had received orders to join Hood as quickly as possible and reached Florence on November 14th. General Hood was now free to invade Tennessee. Sherman had sent the Fourth Corps, under Stanley, and the Twenty-third, under Schofield, the latter in command of both, back to Thomas, and this force was now at Pulaski to oppose Hood.

On the morning of November 19th, the army of Hood was put in motion. The day was disagreeable. It snowed and rained, and there was sleet and ice for the men to face. Over the slippery roads the army trudged, led by the cavalry of the daring Forrest. The wary Hood did not choose to be “checked at Pulaski,” but passed adroitly by on the other side, urging his ranks forward toward Columbia on the Duck River.

At midnight of the 23d, General Schofield learned of the movements of Hood. He knew that if the latter reached Columbia he could easily capture the garrison at that place and then be free to cross the river and cut him off from Thomas. The sleeping troops were quickly aroused and in an hour were making their way through the night to Columbia, twenty-one miles distant. Another column, led by General Cox, starting somewhat later, was pushing rapidly over another road to the same point. It was a race between the armies of Hood and Schofield for the crossing at Columbia. The weary, footsore Federals barely won. Cox, by taking a cross-road, came to the rescue only a few miles south of Columbia, as Forrest was driving the Federal cavalry back, and the little army was saved.

The Union army entrenched itself for battle. Works were thrown up while the wagon trains were retreating beyond the river. But it was found impracticable to hold the position. All during the night of the 27th, there was a steady stream of [255]

The “business of war” at an Alabama railroad station — federals concentrating at Stevenson before the Nashville battle Early in the winter of 1864, this station in the little Alabama town fairly hummed with the movement of men and horses and supplies. Schofield's division of Thomas' army was being concentrated there for the campaign which culminated, in the middle of December, at the bloody battle of Nashville. A businesslike crowd is shown in this picture, of soldiers and citizens, with more than one commanding figure in the foreground. The railroad played a part most important and most vulnerable in the Western campaigns.

[256] men, wagons, and artillery, passing over to the north side of Duck River. Not until daylight did the rear guard burn the railroad bridge and scuttle the pontoon boats, behind them.

The 28th of November was a suspiciously quiet day in front of Columbia. Not so, along other parts of the river bank. About noon, at various points, squads of Confederate cavalry appeared, indicating their purpose to cross, which was finally accomplished.

At daybreak the next morning, with Hood himself in the lead, the Confederate army, headed by one of its most courageous divisions, was quickly marching again to intercept the retreat of Schofield. Spring Hill, fifteen miles north of Columbia, was the objective of Hood. This was a brilliant piece of strategy, and the Confederate general hurried his columns along that he might reach the point first. Succeeding in this he could easily turn the Union flank, and nothing could save that army. It all depended on who should win the race.

The Confederates marched lightly. It was a beautiful, crisp morning and the men were in high hopes. There was every prospect of their winning, since the Union army was heavy and it moved sluggishly. To save the Federal wagon train, and its contents of food, clothing, and ammunition, which was slowly moving along the roads to the north, with only the little force of warriors in blue interposing between them and the eager Confederate legions, General Stanley was ordered forward, to make a dash to the rescue. As he neared the town he saw on his right the Confederate columns abreast of him on a parallel road. A little further on, he was informed that Forrest's cavalry was approaching rapidly from the east.

No time was now to be lost. Although his men were weary from their hurried march, they were pushed forward at the double-quick into town. The opposing forces met on the edge of the village; a light skirmish followed, in which the Federals secured the main approaches to the town.

Schofield's army was in a splendid position to invite attack. [257]

Rushing a Federal battery out of Johnsonville When Thomas began to draw together his forces to meet Hood at Nashville, he ordered the garrison at Johnsonville, on the Tennessee, eighty miles due west of Nashville, to leave that place and hasten north. It was the garrison at this same Johnsonville that, a month earlier, had been frightened into panic and flight when the bold Confederate raider, Forrest, appeared on the west bank of the river and began a noisy cannonade. New troops had been sent to the post. They appear well coated and equipped. The day after the photograph was taken (November 23d) the encampment in the picture was broken.

[258]

The forces were widely scattered, and the situation was indeed critical. The afternoon of November 29th records a series of lost opportunities to the Confederates. From noon until seven o'clock in the evening the little force of Stanley was completely isolated from the main army. Hood had sufficient troops literally to crush him, to cut off the retreat of Schofield, and thereby to defeat that wing of the Federal army. During the afternoon and evening there were various attempts made on the Union lines, which were stoutly resisted. The vigor of the repulse, the lack of concentration in the attack and, perhaps, the coming of evening saved the day for the Federals.

The Confederates bivouacked for the night near the pike. Brightly their camp-fires gleamed, as the Federal wagon trains and the columns of Northern soldiers trudged along through a moonless night, within a few rods of the resting Confederates. The Southern troops were plainly visible to the Federals, as they were seen moving about the camp. There was constant apprehension lest the Southern army should fall upon the passing army, but the officer who was ordered to block the Federal march made but a feeble and partial attack. Hood realized that he had lost the best opportunity for crushing Schofield that the campaign had offered, and deplored the failure most bitterly.

Schofield reached Spring Hill about seven in the evening. At the same hour the last company of his troops was leaving Columbia, about eleven miles away. All through the night the procession continued. The intrepid Stanley stood guard at a narrow bridge, as the long train wended its way in the darkness over the hills in the direction of Nashville. At daybreak, as the rear wagons safely passed, and the skirmishers were called in, the advance columns, under Cox, were reaching the outskirts of Franklin.

This village, situated on a bend of the Harpeth River, was admirably located for a great battle. On the north and west, it was protected by the river. Beyond the stream, to the [259]

[260] north, were three prominent hills, giving excellent elevations for batteries, and commanding a broad plain that lay in front of the town. These were utilized by the Federals. To the south were low ridges on which an attacking party might entrench.

Schofield had not expected to give battle at Franklin. He was hurrying his men to reach the protecting entrenchments of Nashville. But he would not be taken unawares. Though his men had marched and fought by turns for a week, by day and night, until they were on the point of exhaustion, yet the tired and hungry troops, before they had prepared their morning meal, laid down the musket and took up the spade. Soon entrenchments stretched along on two sides of the town. Batteries of artillery were placed at the front and in the rear, guarding the lines of probable attack. To this protecting haven, the weary regiments, one by one, filed, until, by noon, the last one had safely found its way to the entrenched walls of Franklin. The wagon trains passed over the Harpeth and the troops would soon follow after. But this was not to be. Even then, the Confederate vanguard was close at hand.

It was a glorious Indian summer afternoon. For two hours the Federal troops had been looking through the hazy atmosphere to the eastward hills. The day was already beginning to wane, when from the wooded ridge there emerged the stately columns of the army of Hood. On a rise in front of the Union lines stood Wagner's two brigades, in uniforms of blue. They were stationed, unsupported, directly in front of the Confederate approach. It was evident that “some one had blundered.” But there they stood, waiting for the impact of the line in gray. A concentrated roar of musketry burst forth and they were engulfed in the on-sweeping torrent.

The Confederate ranks plunged on, carrying the helpless brigades along. With tremendous momentum they rushed toward the works. The guns along the Federal line were silent. They dare not fire on their own routed men. The weight of the oncoming mass of humanity broke through the first line of [261]

[262]

Federal infantry. The center of the Union front had been pierced. Like a wedge the Southern troops thrust themselves through the opening. Two captured batteries began an enfilading fire upon the broken Union lines, and from the right and the left the pitiless fire poured upon their flanks. The shattered regiments were past re-forming for the emergency. The teams from the captured batteries galloped to the rear. The day was nearly lost to the Union army.

Colonel Opdycke of Wagner's division had brought his brigade within the lines and was ready for the emergency. Turning toward his men to give the order to charge, he found they had already fixed their bayonets for the desperate encounter. Behind these men stood the Twelfth and Sixteenth Kentucky regiments in the same attitude. “First Brigade, forward to the works,” came the ringing words of the colonel. His men scarcely needed the order. Following their gallant leader, they saw him ride forward, empty his revolver, then use it as a club in a hand-to-hand fight, and finally dismount and grasp a musket. The men fought like demons, in their desperate endeavor to stem the tide of gray.

Stanley, at his headquarters beyond the river, had seen the impending disaster to the troops. Galloping to the scene of battle, he was about to order Opdycke to the attack. He was too late to give the command but not too late to enter the conflict. Cheering his men, he rode into the death-dealing contest in which he was presently severely wounded. The bayonet and the clubbed musket were freely used. The breach was closed, and the day was all but won by the Federals.

The recaptured guns now poured their charges of death into the shattered ranks in gray. But the courageous Southerners were not to be thus outdone. The cloud of smoke had hardly cleared from the field when they again took up the gage of battle. In sheer desperation and with an appalling recklessness of life, they thrust themselves upon the Union lines again and again, only to recoil, battered and bleeding. [263]

Thomas — the “rock of Chickamauga” who became the “sledge of Nashville” Major-General George Henry Thomas, Virginia-born soldier loyal to the Union; commended for gallantry in the Seminole War, and for service in Mexico; won the battle of Mill Spring, January 19, 1862; commanded the right wing of the Army of the Tennessee against Corinth and at Perryville, and the center at Stone's River. Only his stability averted overwhelming defeat for the Federals at Chickamauga. At Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge he was a host in himself. After Sherman had taken Atlanta he sent Thomas back to Tennessee to grapple with Hood. How he crushed Hood by his sledge-hammer blows is told in the accompanying text. Thomas, sitting down in Nashville, bearing the brunt of Grant's impatience, and ignoring completely the proddings from Washington to advance before he was ready, while he waited grimly for the psychological moment to strike the oncoming Confederate host under Hood, is one of the really big dramatic figures of the entire war. It has been well said of Thomas that every promotion he received was a reward of merit; and that during his long and varied career as a soldier no crisis ever arose too great for his ability.

[264]

Evening fell upon the battling hosts, and long into the night there was heard the sharp volleys of musketry. Thus closed one of the fiercest of the minor struggles of the Civil War. At midnight, Schofield withdrew from the trenches of Franklin and fell back to Thomas at Nashville.

Many gallant Southern leaders fell on the battlefield of Franklin, whose loss to the Confederacy was irreparable. Five generals and a long list of field-officers were among the killed. General Patrick Cleburne, a native of Ireland and a veteran of the British army, and General John Adams, both fell in the desperate charges at the breach in the Federal lines when Wagner's brigades were swept headlong from the front of the battle-line.

Hood appeared before the army of Thomas, on December 2d. Preparations at once began in both camps for the decisive contest. Hood was furnishing his army with supplies and with shoes, and throwing up entrenchments parallel to those of the Union army. Thomas was remounting his cavalry and increasing the strength of his works. The city was well fortified. On the surrounding hills the forts bristled with cannon. But the Federal commander was not ready for battle.

Thomas was not a born military strategist. But he was a remarkable tactician. No battle of the war was better planned and none was so nearly carried out to the letter of the plan as the battle of Nashville. It has been said that this plan of Thomas is the only one of the entire war that is now studied as a model in European military schools.

But Thomas was not acting quickly enough to satisfy Grant and the Washington authorities. Day after day, telegrams and messages poured in on him, giving advice and urging immediate action. Thomas stood firm. Finally an order for his removal was issued but never delivered. In a telegram to Halleck, Thomas stated that if it was desirable to relieve him of his command he would submit without a murmur.

Finally, preparations were completed. But, just then a [265]

[266] severe storm of freezing rain poured down upon the waiting armies and held the country in its frigid grasp. The ground was covered with a glare of ice. Horses and men slid and sprawled on the slippery surface. It was impossible to move an army under such conditions. Still the bombardment of messages from the East continued.

On December 14th, the ice began to melt. That night Thomas called a council of his corps commanders and laid before them his well-matured plans for the morrow's battle. Then he telegraphed to Grant that the ice had melted and the attack would be made in the morning. Had the storm continued, the attack must have been postponed and Thomas probably would not have been the hero of Nashville. Even as it was, Logan was hurrying from the East toward that city to take command of the army. When he reached Louisville, in Kentucky, on the 17th, he heard that the battle was over and he came no farther.

At four on the morning of December 15th, reveille sounded through the Union Camp of fifty-five thousand soldiers. Two hours later, the men were standing in array of battle. The air was soft and even balmy. A heavy river-fog hung over the lowlands and across the city. In the dense pall, regiments of soldiers, like phantom warriors, moved across the country.

By nine o'clock the sun had pierced the mist and to the observers on the hilltops it was a brilliant spectacle. The battle-lines were rapidly forming. With the precision of a well-oiled machine, the battalions were moving to their places. Squadrons of cavalry were passing along the lowlands to take their position in the battle-line. Great guns glinted through embrasures ready to vomit forth their missiles of destruction.

The plan of the battle of Nashville as formed by Thomas was simple — a feint attack on the opposing army's right, the striking of a sudden and irresistible blow on his left, followed by successive attacks until the Southern army was battered into [267]

[268] disorganization and routed. About forty-five thousand Federals were actually engaged at Nashville. Against them Hood mustered some thirty-eight thousand Confederates.

At eight o'clock, Steedman sent Colonels Morgan and Grosvenor to demonstrate on the Confederate right. This was gallantly done, in the face of a severe fire, and so closely did it resemble a genuine attack that Hood was completely deceived. At once, he drew troops from his center to strengthen the endangered flank. Then on the Union right, infantry and dismounted cavalry moved out against the weakened Confederate left.

The cooperation of these two arms of the service was almost perfect. Soon, the battle was raging along the entire front. The Federal forces were gradually converging. The Confederate lines were being crowded from their first position. Montgomery Hill, the salient point of the Confederate defense, was a strong position commanding a view of the surrounding country. It was here that one of the most daring assaults of the day was made. At one o'clock, Colonel Post's brigade dashed up the hill, direct at the works on the summit. The color-bearers forged rapidly ahead. At the top, without a moment's hesitation, the troops plunged across the works, capturing guns and men.

Still, the flail of war kept pounding at the Confederate center. Hour after hour, the Union lines, compact and unyielding, battered the ranks of the Southern troops. As the sun set on the evening of that day, the army of Hood found itself more than two miles from the place it occupied in the morning.

The new day found the Confederate general still undaunted. During the night he had formed a new line of battle. It was shorter, stronger, and more compact than that of the preceding day. Works had been thrown up in front, while behind rose a range of hills. These were strongly fortified. The second position was stronger than the first. [269]

[270]

It was past noon before Thomas was ready to repeat the tactics of the preceding day. On the Confederate right was Overton's Hill, a strongly fortified position. Colonel Post was designated to lead the Federal attack. Supported by a brigade of negro troops, the assaulting columns moved up the steep ascent. With precision the lines marched toward the crest of the hill. All was well until the final dash was to be made, when a withering fire drove them back to the foot of the hill.

The extreme Confederate left also rested upon a hill. To Colonel McMillen was given the task of wresting it from the possession of the Southern troops. Forming his regiments,--the One hundred and fourteenth Illinois, the Ninety-third Indiana, the Tenth Minnesota, the Seventy-second Ohio and the Ninety-fifth Ohio--into two lines, he rapidly moved forward. The approaching lines of attack were received with a hail of musketry, and grape and canister from the Confederate artillery. But unwaveringly the cheering ranks carried the position.

The success of this charge on the right inspired the left, and again the attempt to carry Overton's Hill was made, this time successfully. These successes of the Union lines became contagious. A general forward movement was made along the entire front. It was irresistible. No troops could withstand such an impact. Hood's splendid and courageous army was routed. From thirty-eight thousand men who entered the fight it was reduced to a remnant. Flinging aside muskets and everything that would impede progress, the army that was to revivify the hopes of the failing Confederacy was fleeing in utter confusion along the Franklin pike through Brentwood Pass. This Confederate Army of Tennessee had had a glorious history. It had fought with honor from Donelson and Shiloh to Atlanta and Nashville. It had been at Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, Lookout Mountain, and Missionary Ridge. Now, shattered and demoralized, it was relentlessly pursued beyond the Tennessee River, never again to emerge as a fighting army in the Southwest.