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Battle of Murfreesboroa.
On the night of the 30th, the writer having a short time before resigned his commission in the line and accepted that of
Assistant Adjutant General on
General Walthall's (just promoted) staff, who at this juncture was on sick leave in
Virginia, and his brigade temporarily commanded by
General Patton Anderson, recently deceased, we received instructions that by early dawn the next morning the left under
Hardee (he and
Polk being the two corps commanders) would begin the attack, conforming elbows to the right in their advance, the right of our brigade, resting on the
Franklin turnpike, to be the pivot.
The balance of the army to our right, being part of
Polk's and the entire force of
Breckinridge, to remain stationary and await results.
As the first signs of day appeared on the morning of the 31st, being the last of the year 1862, the occasional shots of the picket line were superceded by the more rapid discharge of advancing skirmishers on the left, which in time was replaced by the sharp and ever-increasing rattle of musketry, growing nearer and still louder as the loud boom of artillery united its volume of sound to the already soul-inspiring cauticle of death, till anon the surging of the line reached us and our time came to forward with our comrades.
A few hours told the tale, and it was as sweet to us as its realization bitter to the haughty foe. We had completely turned his right under
McCook, driving his line back over rocks and through cedar brakes several miles to a right angle, where before it that morn, in semi-circular shape, threatened to engulph us. Thirty pieces of artillery, innumerable dead and wounded and many prisoners were the fruits to the
Confederate arms of this well-planned and equally well-executed movement.
