[
398]
Lew Wallace, Major-General, U. S. V.
The village of
Dover was-and for that matter yet is-what our English cousins would call the “shiretown” of the county of
Stewart, Tennessee.
In 1860 it was a village unknown to fame, meager in population, architecturally poor.
There was a court-house in the place, and a tavern, remembered now as double-storied, unpainted, and with windows of eight-by-ten glass, which, if the panes may be likened to eyes, were both squint and cataractous.
Looking through them gave the street outside the appearance of a sedgy slough of yellow backwater.
The entertainment furnished man and beast was good of the kind; though at the time mentioned a sleepy traveler, especially if he were of the
North, might have been somewhat vexed by the explosions which spiced the good things of a debating society that nightly took possession of the bar-room, to discuss the relative fighting qualities of the opposing sections.
If there was a little of the romantic in
Dover itself, there was still less of poetic quality in the country round about it. The only beautiful feature was the
Cumberland River, which, in placid current from the south, poured its waters, ordinarily white and pure as those of the springs that fed it, past the village on the east.
Northward there was a hill, then a small stream, then a bolder hill round the foot of which the river swept to the west, as if courteously bent on helping Hickman's Creek out of its boggy bottom and cheerless ravine.
North of the creek all was woods.
Taking in the ravine of the creek, a system of hollows, almost wide and deep enough to be called valleys, inclosed the town and two hills, their bluffest ascents being on the townward side.
Westward of the hollows there were woods apparently interminable.
From
Fort Henry, twelve miles north-west, a road entered the village, stopping first to unite itself with another wagon-way, now famous as the Wynn's Ferry road, coming more directly from the west.
Still another road, leading
[
399]
off to
Charlotte and
Nashville, had been cut across the low ground near the river on the south.
These three highways were the chief reliances of the people of
Dover for communication with the country, and as they were more than supplemented by the river and its boatage, the three were left the year round to the guardianship of the winds and rains.
However, when at length the
Confederate authorities decided to erect a military post at
Dover, the town entered but little into consideration.
The real inducement was the second hill on the north — more properly a ridge.
As it rose about a hundred feet above the level of the inlet, the reconnoitering engineer, seeking to control the navigation of the river by a fortification, adopted it at sight.
And for that purpose the bold bluff was in fact a happy gift of nature, and we shall see presently how it was taken in hand and made terrible.
It is of little moment now who first enunciated the idea of attacking the rebellion byway of the
Tennessee River; most likely the conception was simultaneous with many minds.
The trend of the river; its navigability for large steamers; its offer of a highway to the rear of the
Confederate hosts in
Kentucky and the
State of Tennessee; its silent suggestion of a secure passage into the heart of the belligerent land, from which the direction of movement could be changed toward the
Mississippi, or, left, toward
Richmond; its many advantages as a line of supply and of general communication, must have been discerned by every military student who, in the summer of 1861, gave himself to the most cursory examination of the map. It is thought better and more consistent with fact to conclude that its advantages as a strategic line, so actually obtrusive of themselves, were observed about the same time by thoughtful men on both sides of the contest.
With every problem of attack there goes a counter problem of defense.
A peculiarity of the most democratic people in the world is their hunger for heroes.
The void in that respect had never been so gaping as in 1861.
General Scott was then old and passing away, and the
North caught eagerly at the promise held out by
George B. McClellan; while the
South, with as much precipitation, pinned its faith and hopes on
Albert Sidney Johnston.
There is little doubt that up to the surrender of
Fort Donelson the latter was considered the foremost soldier of all who chose rebellion for their part.
When the shadow of that first great failure fell upon the veteran,
President Davis made haste to reassure him of his sympathy and unbroken confidence.
In the official correspondence which has survived the
Confederacy there is nothing so pathetic, and at the same time so indicative of the manly greatness of
Albert Sidney Johnston, as his letter in reply to that of his chief.
1
[
400]
 |
|
The town of Dover from Robinson's Hill.
From a photograph taken in 1884.
this view was taken from the site of a house on McClernand's right, which was destroyed for camp purposes after the surrender.
The house is said to have been used by McClernand as headquarters.
It was near the Wynn's ferry road, which reaches the River perhaps a quarter of a mile to the right of the picture. |
when
General Johnston assumed command of the Western Department, the
War had ceased to be a New idea.
Battles had been fought.
Preparations for battles to come were far advanced.
Already it had been accepted that the
North was to attack and the
South to defend.
The
Mississippi River was a central object; if opened from
Cairo to
Fort Jackson (New Orleans), the
Confederacy would be broken into halves, and good strategy required it to be broken.
The question was whether the effort would be made directly or by turning its defended positions.
Of the national gun-boats afloat above
Cairo, some were formidably iron-clad.
Altogether the flotilla was strong enough to warrant the theory that a direct descent would be attempted; and to meet the movement the
Confederates threw up powerful batteries, notably at
Columbus,
Island number10,
Memphis, and
Vicksburg.
So fully were they possessed of that theory that they measurably neglected the possibilities of invasion by way of the
Cumberland and
Tennessee rivers.
Not until
General Johnston established his headquarters at
Nashville was serious attention given to the defense of those streams.
A report to his chief of engineers of November 21st, 1861, establishes that at that date a second battery on the
Cumberland at
Dover had been completed; that a work on the ridge had been laid out, and two guns mounted; and that the encampment was then surrounded by an abatis of felled timber.
Later,
Brigadier-General Lloyd Tilghman was sent to
Fort Donelson as commandant, and on January 25th he reports the batteries prepared, the entire field-works built with a trace of 2900 feet, and rifle-pits to guard the approaches were begun.
The same officer speaks further of reenforcements housed in four hundred log-cabins, and
[
401]
adds that while this was being done at
Fort Donelson,
Forts Henry and
Heiman, over on the
Tennessee, were being thoroughly strengthened.
January 30th,
Fort Donelson was formally inspected by
Lieutenant-Colonel Gilmer,
chief engineer of the Western Department, and the final touches were ordered to be given it.
it is to be presumed that
General Johnston was satisfied with the defenses thus provided for the
Cumberland River.
From observing
General Buell at
Louisville, and the stir and movement of multiplying columns under
General U. S. Grant in the region of
Cairo, he suddenly awoke determined to fight for
Nashville at
Donelson.
To this conclusion he came as late as the beginning of February; and thereupon the brightest of the
Southern leaders proceeded to make a capital mistake.
The Confederate estimate of the
Union force at that time in
Kentucky alone was 119 regiments.
The force at
Cairo,
St. Louis, and the towns near the mouth of the
Cumberland River was judged to be about as great.
It was also known that we had unlimited means of transportation for troops, making concentration a work of but few hours.
Still
General Johnston persisted in fighting for
Nashville, and for that purpose divided his thirty thousand men. Fourteen thousand he kept in observation of
Buell at
Louisville.
Sixteen thousand he gave to defend
Fort Donelson.
The latter detachment he himself called “the best part of his army.”
it is difficult to think of a great master of strategy making an error so perilous.
having taken the resolution to defend
Nashville at
Donelson, he intrusted the operation to three chiefs of brigade —
John B. Floyd,
Gideon J. Pillow, and
Simon B. Buckner.
Of these, the first was ranking officer, and he was at the time under indictment by a grand jury at
Washington for malversation as
Secretary of War under
President Buchanan, and for complicity in an embezzlement of public funds.
As will be seen, there came a crisis when the recollection of the circumstance exerted an unhappy influence over his judgment.
The second officer had a genuine military record; but it is said of him that he was of a jealous nature, insubordinate, and quarrelsome.
His bold attempt to supersede
General Scott in
Mexico was green in the memories of living men. To give pertinency to the remark, there is reason to believe that a personal misunderstanding between him and
General Buckner, older than the rebellion, was yet unsettled when the two met at
Donelson.
All in all, therefore, there is little doubt that the junior of the three commanders was the fittest for the enterprise intrusted to them.
He was their equal in courage; while in devotion to the cause and to his profession of arms, in tactical knowledge, in military bearing, in the faculty of getting the most service out of his inferiors, and inspiring them with confidence in his ability,--as a soldier in all the higher meanings of the word,--he was greatly their superior.
the 6th of February, 1862, dawned darkly after a thunder-storm.
Pacing the parapets of the work on the
Hill above the inlet formed by the junction of Hickman's Creek and the
Cumberland River, a sentinel, in the serviceable butternut jeans uniform of the Confederate army of the West, might that
[
402]
day have surveyed
Fort Donelson almost ready for battle.
In fact, very little was afterward done to it. There were the two water-batteries sunk in the northern face of the bluff, about thirty feet above the
River; in the lower battery 9 32-pounder guns and 1 10-inch Columbiad, and in the upper another Columbiad, bored and rifled as a 32-pounder, and 2 32-pounder carronades.
These guns lay between the embrasures, in snug revetment of sand in coffee-sacks, flanked right and left with stout traverses.
The satisfaction of the sentry could have been nowise diminished at seeing the backwater lying deep in the
Creek; a more perfect ditch against assault could not have been constructed.
The Fort itself was of good profile, and admirably adapted to the ridge it crowned.
Around it, on the landward side, ran the rifle-pits, a continuous but irregular line of logs, covered with yellow clay.
From Hickman's Creek they extended far around to the little run just outside the town on the south.
If the sentry thought the pits looked shallow,
[
403]
he was solaced to see that they followed the coping of the ascents, seventy or eighty feet in height, up which a foe must charge, and that, where they were weakest, they were strengthened by trees felled outwardly in front of them, so that the interlacing limbs and branches seemed impassable by men under fire.
At points inside the outworks, on the inner slopes of the hills, defended thus from view of an enemy as well as from his shot, lay the huts and loghouses of the garrison.
Here and there groups of later comers, shivering in their wet blankets, were visible in a bivouac so cheerless that not even morning fires could relieve it. A little music would have helped their sinking spirits, but there was none.
Even the picturesque effect of gay uniforms was wanting.
In fine, the
Confederate sentinel on the ramparts that morning, taking in the whole scene, knew the jolly, rollicking picnic days of the war were over.
to make clearer why the 6th of February is selected to present the first view of the
Fort, about noon that day the whole garrison was drawn from their quarters by the sound of heavy guns, faintly heard from the direction of
Fort Henry, a token by which every man of them knew that a battle was on. The occurrence was in fact expected, for two days before a horseman had ridden to
General Tilghman with word that at 4:30 o'clock in the morning rocket signals had been exchanged with the picket at
Bailey's Landing, announcing the approach of gun-boats.
A second courier came, and then a third; the latter, in great haste, requesting the
General's presence at
Fort Henry.
There was quick mounting at headquarters, and, before the camp could be taken into confidence, the
General and his guard were out of sight.
Occasional guns were heard the day following.
Donelson gave itself up to excitement and conjecture.
At noon of the 6th, as stated, there was continuous and heavy cannonading at
Fort Henry, and greater excitement at
Fort Donelson.
The polemicists in
Dover became uneasy and prepared to get away.
In the evening fugitives arrived in groups, and told how the gun-boats ran straight upon the
Fort and took it. The polemicists hastened their departure from town.
At exactly midnight the gallant
Colonel Heiman marched into
Fort Donelson with two brigades of infantry rescued from the ruins of
Forts Henry and
Heiman.
The officers and men by whom they were received then knew that their turn was at hand; and at daybreak, with one mind and firm of purpose, they set about the final preparation.
Brigadier-General Pillow reached
Fort Donelson on the 9th;
Brigadier-General Buckner came in the night of the 11th; and
Brigadier-General Floyd on the 13th.
The latter, by virtue of his rank, took command.
the morning of the 13th--calm, spring-like, the very opposite of that of the 6th--found in
Fort Donelson a garrison of 28 regiments of infantry: 13 from
Tennessee, 2 from
Kentucky, 6 from
Mississippi, 1 from
Texas, 2 from
Alabama, 4 from
Virginia.
There were also present 2 independent battalions, 1 regiment of cavalry, and artillerymen for 6 light batteries, and 17 heavy guns, making a total of quite 18,000 effectives.
[see page 430.]
General Buckner's division 6 regiments and 2 batteries — constituted the right wing, and was posted to cover the land approaches to the water-batteries.
[
404]
a left wing was organized into six brigades, commanded respectively by
Colonels Heiman,
Davidson,
Drake,
Wharton,
McCausland, and
Baldwin, and posted from right to left in the order named.
Four batteries were distributed amongst the left wing.
General Bushrod R. Johnson, an able officer, served the
General commanding as chief-of-staff.
Dover was converted into a depot of supplies and ordnance stores.
These dispositions made,
Fort Donelson was ready for battle.
it may be doubted if
General Grant called a council of war.
The nearest approach to it was a convocation held on the
 |
|
Glimpse of the Cumberland River where the gun-boats first appeared, looking north from the highest earthworks of Fort Donelson.
From a photograph taken in 1884. |
New Uncle Sam, a steamboat that was afterward transformed into the gun-boat
Blackhawk.
the morning of the 11th of February, a staff-officer visited each commandant of division and brigade with the simple verbal message: “
General Grant sends his compliments, and requests to see you this afternoon on his boat.”
minutes of the proceedings were not kept; there was no adjournment; each person retired when he got ready, knowing that the march would take place next day, probably in the forenoon.
there were in attendance on the occasion some officers of great subsequent notability.
Of these
Ulysses S. Grant was first.
The world knows him now; then his fame was all before him. A singularity of the volunteer service in that day was that nobody took account of even a first-rate record of the
Mexican War. The
battle of Belmont, though indecisive, was a much better reference.
A story was abroad that
Grant had been the last man to take boat at the end of that affair, and the addendum that he had lingered in face of the enemy until he was hauled aboard with the last gang-plank, did him great good.
From the first his silence was remarkable.
He knew how to keep his temper.
In battle, as in camp, he went about quietly, speaking in a conversational tone; yet he appeared to see everything that went on, and was always intent on business.
He had a faithful assistant adjutant-general, and appreciated him; he preferred, however, his own eyes, word, and hand.
His
[
405]
aides were little more than messengers.
In dress he was plain, even negligent; in partial amendment of that his horse was always a good one and well kept.
At the council — calling it such by grace — he smoked, but never said a word.
In all probability he was framing the orders of march which were issued that night.
Charles F. Smith, of the regular army, was also present.
He was a person of superb physique, very tall, perfectly proportioned, straight, square-shouldered, ruddy-faced, with eyes of perfect blue, and long snow-white mustaches.
He seemed to know the army regulations by heart, and caught a tactical mistake, whether of command or execution, by a kind of mental coup d'oeil. he was naturally kind, genial, communicative, and never failed to answer when information was sought of him; at the same time he believed in “hours of service” regularly published by the adjutants as a rabbi believes in the Ten tables, and to call a court-martial on a “bummer” was in his eyes a sinful waste of stationery.
On the occasion
of a review
General Smith had the bearing of a marshal of
France.
He could ride along a line of volunteers in the regulation uniform of a brigadier-general, plume, chapeau, epaulets and all, without exciting laughter-something nobody else could do in the beginning of the war. He was at first accused of disloyalty, and when told of it, his eyes flashed wickedly; then he laughed, and said, “Oh, never mind!
they'll take it back after our first battle.”
and they did. At the time of the meeting on the
New Uncle Sam he was a brigadier-general, and commanded the division which in the land operations against
Fort Henry had marched up the left bank of the
River against
Fort Heiman.
another officer worthy of mention was
John A. McClernand, also a brigadier.
By profession a lawyer, he was in his first of military service.
Brave, industrious, methodical, and of unquestioned cleverness, he was rapidly acquiring the art of war.
there was still another in attendance on the
New Uncle Sam not to be passed — a young man who had followed
General Grant from
Illinois, and
[
406]
was seeing his first of military service.
No soldier in the least familiar with headquarters on the
Tennessee can ever forget the slender figure, large black eyes, hectic cheeks, and sincere, earnest manner of
John A. Rawlins, then assistant adjutant-general, afterward
Major-General and secretary of war. He had two special devotions — to the cause and to his chief.
He lived to see the first triumphant and the latter first in peace as well as in war. Probably no officer of the
Union was mourned by so many armies.
Fort Henry, it will be remembered, was taken by
flag-officer Foote on the 6th of February.
The time up to the 12th was given to reconnoitering the country in the direction of
Fort Donelson. Two roads were discovered: one of twelve miles direct, the other almost parallel with the first, but, on account of a slight divergence, two miles longer.
by 8 o'clock in the morning, the first division,
General McClernand commanding, and the Second, under
General Smith [see page 429], were in full march.
The infantry of this command consisted of twenty-five regiments in all, or three less than those of the
Confederates.
Against their six field-batteries
General Grant had seven.
In cavalry alone he was materially stronger.
The rule in attacking fortifications is five to one; to save the
Union Commander from a charge of rashness, however, he had also at control a fighting quality ordinarily at home on the sea rather than the land.
After receiving the surrender of
Fort Henry,
flag-officer Foote had hastened to
Cairo to make preparation for the reduction of
Fort Donelson.
With six of his boats, he passed into the
Cumberland River; and on the 12th, while the two divisions of the army were marching across to
Donelson, he was hurrying, as fast as steam could drive him and his following, to a Second trial of iron batteries afloat against earth batteries ashore.
The
Carondelet,
Commander Walke, having preceded him, had been in position below the
Fort since the 12th.
By sundown of the 12th,
McClernand and
Smith reached the point designated for them in orders.
on the morning of the 13th of February
General Grant, with about twenty thousand men, was before
Fort Donelson.
2 we have had a view of the army in the works ready for battle; a like view of that outside and about to go into position of attack and assault is not so easily to be given.
At dawn the latter host rose up from the bare ground, and, snatching bread and coffee as best they could, fell into lines that stretched away over hills, down hollows, and through thickets, making it impossible for even colonels to see their regiments from flank to flank.
pausing to give a thought to the situation, it is proper to remind the reader that he is about to witness an event of more than mere historical interest; he is about to see the men of the North and North-west and of the South and South-west enter for the first time into a strife of arms; on one side, the best blood of
Tennessee,
Kentucky,
Alabama,
Mississippi, and
Texas, aided materially by fighting representatives from
Virginia; on the other, the best blood of
Illinois,
Ohio,
Indiana,
Iowa,
Missouri, and
Nebraska.
[
407]
we have now before us a spectacle seldom witnessed in the annals of scientific war — an army behind field-works erected in a chosen position waiting quietly while another army very little superior in numbers proceeds at leisure to place it in a state of siege.
Such was the operation
General Grant had before him at daybreak of the 13th of February.
Let us see how it was accomplished and how it was resisted.
in a clearing about two miles from
Dover there was a log-house, at the time occupied by
a Mrs. Crisp.
As the road to
Dover ran close by, it was made the headquarters of the
commanding General.
All through the night of the 12th, the coming and going was incessant.
Smith was ordered to find a position in front of the enemy's right wing, which would place him face to face with
Buckner.
McClernand's order was to establish himself on the enemy's left, where he would be opposed to
Pillow.
a little before dawn
Birge's sharp-shooters were astir.
Theirs was a peculiar service.
Each was a preferred marksman, and carried a long-range Henry rifle, with sights delicately arranged as for target practice.
In action each was perfectly independent.
They never maneuvered as a corps.
When the time came they were asked, “canteens full?,” “Biscuits for all day?”
then their only order, “all right; hunt your holes, boys.”
Thereupon they dispersed, and, like
Indians, sought cover to please themselves behind rocks and stumps, or in hollows.
Sometimes they dug holes; sometimes they climbed into trees.
Once in a good location, they remained there the day. At night they would crawl out and report in camp.
This morning, as I have said, the sharp-shooters dispersed early to find places within easy range of the breastworks.
the movement by
Smith and
McClernand was begun about the same time.
A thick wood fairly screened the former.
The latter had to cross an open valley under fire of two batteries, one on
Buckner's left, the other on a high point jutting from the line of outworks held by
Colonel Heiman of
Pillow's command.
Graves commanded the first,
Maney the Second; both were of
Tennessee.
As always in situations where the advancing party is ignorant of the ground and of the designs of the enemy, resort was had to skirmishers, who are to the main body what antenna are to insects.
Theirs it is to unmask the foe. Unlike sharp-shooters, they act in bodies.
Behind the skirmishers, the batteries started out to find positions, and through the brush and woods, down the hollows, up the hills the guns and caissons were hauled.
Nowadays it must be a very steep bluff in face of which the good artillerist will stop or turn back.
At
Donelson, however, the proceeding was generally slow and toilsome.
The officer had to find a vantage-ground first; then with axes a road to it was hewn out; after which, in many instances, the men, with the prolongs over their shoulders, helped the horses along.
In the gray of the dawn the sharp-shooters were deep in their deadly game; as the sun came up, one battery after another opened fire, and was instantly and gallantly answered; and all the time behind the hidden sharp-shooters, and behind the skirmishers, who occasionally stopped to take a hand in the fray, the regiments marched, route-step, colors flying, after their colonels.
[
408]
about 11 o'clock
Commander Walke, of the
Carondelet, engaged the water-batteries.
The air was then full of the stunning music of battle, though as yet not a volley of musketry had been heard.
Smith, nearest the enemy at starting, was first in place; and there, leaving the fight to his sharp-shooters and skirmishers and to his batteries, he reported to the chief in the loghouse, and, like an old soldier, calmly waited orders.
McClernand, following a good road, pushed on rapidly to the high grounds on the right.
The appearance of his column in the valley covered by the two Confederate batteries provoked a furious shelling from them.
On the double-quick his
men passed through it; and when, in the wood beyond, they resumed the route-step and saw that nobody was hurt, they fell to laughing at themselves.
The real baptism of fire was yet in store for them.
when
McClernand arrived at his appointed place and extended his brigades, it was discovered that the
Confederate outworks offered a front too great for him to envelop.
To attempt to rest his right opposite their extreme left would necessitate a dangerous attenuation of his line and leave him without reserves.
Over on their left, moreover, ran the road already mentioned as passing from
Dover on the south to
Charlotte and
Nashville, which it was of the highest importance to close hermetically so that there would be no communication left
General Floyd except by the river.
If the road to
Charlotte were left to the enemy, they might march out at their pleasure.
the insufficiency of his force was thus made apparent to
General Grant, and whether a discovery of the moment or not, he set about its correction.
He knew a reinforcement was coming up the river under convoy of
Foote; besides which a brigade, composed of the 8th Missouri and the 11th Indiana
[
409]
infantry and Battery a,
Illinois, had been left behind at
Forts Henry and
Heiman under myself.
A courier was dispatched to me with an order to bring my command to
Donelson.
I ferried my troops across the
Tennessee in the night, and reported with them at headquarters before noon the next day. The brigade was transferred to
General Smith; at the same time an order was put into my hand assigning me to command the Third division, which was conducted to a position between
Smith and
McClernand, enabling the latter to extend his line well to the left and cover the road to
Charlotte.
thus on the 14th of February the
Confederates were completely invested, except that the river above
Dover remained to them.
The supineness of
General Floyd all this while is to this day incomprehensible.
A vigorous attack on the morning of the 13th might have thrown
Grant back upon
Fort Henry.
Such an achievement would have more than offset
Foote's conquest.
The
morale to be gained would have alone justified the attempt.
But with
McClernand's strong division on the right, my own in the center, and
C. F. Smith's on the left, the opportunity was gone.
On the side of
General Grant, the possession of the river was all that was wanting; with that
Grant could force the fighting, or wait the certain approach of the grimmest enemy of, the besieged — starvation.
 |
|
Dover Tavern--General Buckner's headquarters and the scene of the surrender.
From a photograph taken in 1884. |
it is now — morning of the 14th--easy to see and understand with something more than approximate exactness the oppositions of the two forces.
Smith is on the left of the
Union army opposite
Buckner.
My division, in the center, confronts
Colonels Heiman,
Drake, and
Davidson, each with a brigade.
McClernand, now well over on the right, keeps the road to
Charlotte and
Nashville against the
Major part of
Pillow's left wing.
The infantry on both sides are in cover behind the crests of the hills or in thick woods, listening to the ragged fusillade which the sharp-shooters and skirmishers
[
410]
maintain against each other almost without intermission.
There is little pause in the exchange of shells and round shot.
The careful chiefs have required their men to lie down.
In brief, it looks as if each party were inviting the other to begin.
these circumstances, the sharp-shooting and cannonading, ugly as they may seem to one who thinks of them under comfortable surroundings, did in fact serve a good purpose the day in question in helping the men to forget their sufferings of the night before.
It must be remembered that the weather had changed during the preceding afternoon: from suggestions of spring it turned to intensified
winter.
From lending a gentle hand in bringing
Foote and his iron-clads up the river, the wind whisked suddenly around to the north and struck both armies with a storm of mixed rain, snow, and sleet.
All night the tempest blew mercilessly upon the unsheltered, fireless soldier, making sleep impossible.
Inside the works, nobody had overcoats; while thousands of those outside had marched from
Fort Henry as to a summer fete, leaving coats, blankets, and knapsacks behind them in the camp.
More than one stout fellow has since admitted, with a laugh, that nothing was so helpful to him that horrible night as the thought that the wind, which seemed about to turn his blood into icicles, was serving the enemy the same way; they, too, had to stand out and take the blast.
Let us now go back to the preceding day, and bring up an incident of
McClernand's swing into position.
about the center of the
Confederate outworks there was a V-shaped hill, marked sharply by a ravine on its right and another on its left.
This
Colonel Heiman occupied with his Brigade of five regiments — all of
Tennessee but one.
The front presented was about 2500 feet. In the angle of the V, on the summit of the hill,
Captain Maney's battery, also of
Tennessee, had been planted.
Without protection of any kind, it nevertheless completely swept a large field to the left, across which an assaulting force would have to come in order to get at
Heiman or at
Drake, next on the south.
Maney, on the point of the hill, had been active throughout the preceding afternoon, and had succeeded in drawing the fire of some of
McClernand's guns.
The duel lasted until night.
Next morning it was renewed with increased sharpness,
Maney being assisted on his right by
Graves's battery of
Buckner's division, and by some pieces of
Drake's on his left.
[
411]
McClernand's advance was necessarily slow and trying.
This was not merely a logical result of unacquaintance with the country and the dispositions of the enemy; he was also under an order from
General Grant to avoid everything calculated to bring on a General engagement.
In
Maney's well-served guns he undoubtedly found serious annoyance, if not a positive obstruction.
Concentrating guns of his own upon the industrious Confederate, he at length fancied him silenced and the enemy's infantry on the right thrown into confusion-circumstances from which he hastily deduced a favorable chance to deliver an assault.
For that purpose he reinforced his Third Brigade, which was nearest the offending battery, and gave the necessary orders.
up to this time, it will be observed, there had not been any fighting involving infantry in line.
This was now to be changed.
Old soldiers, rich with experience would have regarded the work proposed with gravity; they would have shrewdly cast up an account of the chances of success, not to speak of the chances of coming out alive; they would have measured the distance to be passed, every foot of it, under the guns of three batteries,
Maney's in the center,
Graves's on their left, and
Drake's on their right — a direct line of fire doubly crossed.
Nor would they have omitted the reception awaiting them from the rifle-pits.
They were to descend a hill entangled for two hundred yards with underbrush, climb an opposite ascent partly
shorn of timber; make way through an abatis of tree-tops; then, supposing all that successfully accomplished, they would be at last in face of an enemy whom it was possible to reinforce with all the reserves of the garrison — with the whole garrison, if need be. A veteran would have surveyed the three regiments selected for the honorable duty with many misgivings.
Not so the men themselves.
They were not old soldiers.
Recruited but recently from farms and shops, they accepted the assignment heartily and with youthful confidence in their prowess.
It may be doubted if a man in the ranks gave a thought to the questions, whether the attack was to be supported while making, or followed up if successful, or whether it was part of a General advance.
Probably the most they knew was that the immediate objective before them was the capture of the battery on the hill.
the line when formed stood thus from the right: the 49th Illinois, then the 17th, and then the 48th,
Colonel Haynie.
At the last moment, a question of seniority arose between
Colonels Morrison and
Haynie.
The latter was of opinion that he was the ranking officer.
Morrison replied that he would
[
412]
conduct the brigade to the point from which the attack was to be made, after which
Haynie might take the command, if he so desired.
down the hill the three regiments went, crashing and tearing through the undergrowth.
Heiman, on the lookout, saw them advancing.
Before they cleared the woods,
Maney opened with shells.
At the foot of the descent, in the valley,
Graves joined his fire to
Maney's. There
Morrison reported to
Haynie, who neither accepted nor refused the command.
Pointing to the hill, he merely said, “let us take it together.”
Morrison turned away, and rejoined his own regiment.
Here was confusion in the beginning, or worse, an assault begun without a head.
Nevertheless, the whole line went forward.
On a part of the hillside the trees were yet standing.
The open space fell to
Morrison and his 49th, and paying the penalty of the exposure, he outstripped his associates.
The men fell rapidly; yet the living rushed on and up, firing as they went.
The battery was the common target.
Maney's gunners, in relief against the sky, were shot down in quick succession.
His
first lieutenant (
Burns) was one of the first to suffer.
His
second lieutenant (
Massie) was mortally wounded.
Maney himself was hit; still he staid, and his guns continued their punishment; and still the farmer lads and shop boys of
Illinois clung to their purpose.
With marvelous audacity they pushed through the abatis and reached a point within forty yards of the rifle-pits.
It actually looked as if the prize were theirs.
The yell of victory was rising in their throats.
Suddenly the long line of yellow breastworks before them, covering
Heiman's five regiments, crackled and turned into flame.
The forlorn-hope stopped — staggered — braced up again — shot blindly through the smoke at the smoke of the new enemy, secure in his shelter.
Thus for fifteen minutes the Illinoisans stood fighting.
The time is given on the testimony of the opposing leader himself.
Morrison was knocked out of his saddle by a musket-ball, and disabled; then the men went down the hill.
At its foot they rallied round their flags and renewed the assault.
Pushed down again, again they rallied, and a third time climbed to the enemy.
This time the battery set fire to the dry leaves on the ground, and the heat and smoke became stifling.
It was not possible for brave men to endure more.
Slowly, sullenly, frequently pausing to return a shot, they went back for the last time; and in going their ears and souls were riven with the shrieks of their wounded comrades, whom the flames crept down upon and smothered and charred where they lay.
considered as a mere exhibition of courage, this assault, long maintained against odds,--twice repulsed, twice renewed,--has been seldom excelled.
one hundred and forty-nine men of the 17th and 49th were killed and wounded.
Haynie reported 1 killed and 8 wounded.
there are few things connected with the operations against
Fort Donelson so relieved of uncertainty as this: that when
General Grant at
Fort Henry became fixed in the resolution to undertake the movement, his primary object was the capture of the force to which the post was intrusted.
To effect their complete environment, he relied upon
flag-officer Foote and his gun-boats, whose astonishing success at
Fort Henry justified the extreme of confidence.
[
413]
Foote arrived on the 14th, and made haste to enter upon his work.
The
Carondelet (
Commander Walke) had been in position since the 12th.
Behind a low output of the shore, for two days, she maintained a fire from her rifled guns, happily of greater range than the best of those of the enemy.
at 9 o'clock on the 14th,
Captain Culbertson, looking from the
 |
|
Front view of Mrs. Crisp's House.
From photographs taken in 1884. |
parapet of the upper battery, beheld the river below the first bend full of transports, landing troops under cover of a fresh arrival of gun-boats.
The disembarkation concluded,
Foote was free.
He waited until noon. The captains in the batteries mistook his deliberation for timidity.
The impinging of their shot on his iron armor was heard distinctly in the
Fort a mile and a half away.
The captains began to doubt if he would come at all. But at 3 o'clock the boats took position under fire: the
Louisville on the right, the
St. Louis next, then the
Pittsburgh, then the
Carondelet, all iron-clad.
five hundred yards from the batteries, and yet
Foote was not content!
in the Crimean war the allied
French and
English fleets, of much mightier ships, undertook to engage the
Russian shore batteries, but little stronger than those at
Donelson.
The
French on that occasion stood off 1,800 yards. Lord Lyons fought his
Agamemnon at a distance of 800 yards.
Foote forged ahead within 400 yards of his enemy, and was still going on. His boat had been hit between wind and water; so with the
Pittsburgh and
Carondelet.
about the guns the floors were slippery with blood, and both surgeons and carpenters were never so busy.
Still the four boats kept on, and there was great cheering; for not only did the fire from the shore slacken; the lookouts reported the enemy running.
It seemed that fortune would smile once more upon the fleet, and cover the honors of
Fort Henry afresh at
Fort Donelson.
Unhappily, when about 350 yards off the hill a solid shot plunged through the pilothouse of the flag-ship, and carried away the wheel.
Near the same time the
[
414]
tiller-ropes of the
Louisville were disabled.
Both vessels became unmanageable and began floating down the current.
The eddies turned them round like logs.
The
Pittsburg and
Carondelet closed in and covered them with their hulls.
seeing this turn in the fight, the captains of the batteries rallied their men, who cheered in their turn, and renewed the contest with increased will and energy.
A ball got lodged in their best rifle.
A corporal and some of his men took a log fitting the bore, leaped out on the parapet, and rammed the missile home.
“now, boys,” said a gunner in
Bidwell's battery, “see me take a chimney!”
the flag of the boat and the chimney fell with the shot.
when the vessels were out of range, the victors looked about them.
The fine form of their embrasures was gone; heaps of earth had been cast over their platforms.
In a space of twenty-four feet they had picked up as many shot and shells.
The air had been full of flying missiles.
For an hour and a half the brave fellows had been rained upon; yet their losses had been trifling in numbers.
Each gunner had selected a ship and followed her faithfully throughout the action, now and then uniting fire on the
Carondelet.
the
Confederates had behaved with astonishing valor.
Their victory sent a thrill of joy through the army.
The assault on the outworks, the day before, had been a failure.
With the repulse of the gun-boats the
Confederates scored success number two, and the communication by the river remained open to
Nashville.
The winds that blew sleet and snow over
Donelson that night were not so unendurable as they might have been.
the night of the 14th of February fell cold and dark, and under the pitiless sky the armies remained in position so near to each other that neither dared light fires.
Overpowered with watching,
 |
|
The position of the gun-boats and the West bank.
From a photograph taken in 1884.
Fort Donelson is in the farther distance on the extreme left — Hickman's Creek empties into the Cumberland in the middle distance — midway are the remains of the obstructions placed in the river by the Confederates.
The upper picture, showing Isaac Williams's house, is a continuation of the right of the lower view. |
[
415]
fatigue, and the lassitude of spirits which always follows a strain upon the faculties of men like that which is the concomitant of battle, thousands on both sides lay down in the ditches and behind logs and whatever else would in the least shelter them from the cutting wind, and tried to sleep.
Very few closed their eyes.
Even the horses, after their manner, betrayed the suffering they were enduring.
that morning
General Floyd had called a council of his chiefs of brigades and divisions.
He expressed the opinion that the post was untenable, except with fifty thousand troops.
He called attention to the heavy reinforcements of the
Federals, and suggested an immediate attack upon their right wing to reopen land communication with
Nashville, by way of
Charlotte.
The proposal was agreed to unanimously.
General Buckner proceeded to make dispositions to cover the retreat, in the event the sortie should be successful.
Shortly after noon, when the movement should have begun, the order was countermanded at the instance of
Pillow.
Then came the battle with the gun-boats.
in the night the council was recalled, with General and regimental officers in attendance.
The situation was again debated, and the same conclusion reached.
According to the plan resolved upon,
Pillow was to move at dawn with his whole division, and attack the right of the besiegers.
General Buckner was to be relieved by troops in the forts, and with his command to support
Pillow by assailing the right of the enemy's center.
If he succeeded, he was to take post outside the intrenchments on the Wynn's Ferry road to cover the retreat.
He was then to act as rear-guard.
Thus early, leaders in
Donelson were aware of the mistake into which they were plunged.
Their resolution was wise and heroic.
Let us see how they executed it.
preparations for the attack occupied the night.
The troops for the most part were taken out of the rifle-pits and massed over on the left to the number of ten thousand or more.
The ground was covered with ice and snow; yet the greatest silence was observed.
It seems incomprehensible that columns mixed of all arms, infantry, cavalry, and artillery, could have engaged in simultaneous movement, and not have been heard by some listener outside.
One would think the jolting and rumble of the heavy gun-carriages would have told the story.
But the character of the night must be remembered.
The pickets of the
Federals were struggling for life against the blast, and probably did not keep good watch.
Oglesby's brigade held
McClernand's extreme right.
Here and there the musicians were beginning to make the woods ring with reveille, and the numbed soldiers of the line were rising from their icy beds and shaking the snow from their frozen garments.
As yet, however, not a company had “fallen in.”
suddenly the pickets fired, and with the alarm on their lips rushed back upon their comrades.
The woods on the instant became alive.
the regiments formed, officers mounted and took their places; words of command rose loud and eager.
By the time
Pillow's advance opened fire on
Oglesby's right, the point first struck, the latter was fairly formed to receive it. A rapid exchange of volleys ensued.
The distance intervening between
[
416]
 |
|
The bivouac in the snow on the line of battle — questioning a prisoner. |
[
417]
the works on one side and the bivouac on the other was so short that the action began before
Pillow could effect a deployment.
His brigades came up in a kind of echelon, left in front, and passed “by regiments left into line,” one by one, however; the regiments quickly took their places, and advanced without halting.
Oglesby's Illinoisans were now fully awake.
They held their ground, returning in full measure the fire that they received.
The Confederate
Forrest rode around as if to get in their rear,
3 and it was then give and take, infantry against infantry.
The semi-echelon movement of the
Confederates enabled them, after an interval, to strike
W. H. L. Wallace's brigade, on
Oglesby's left.
Soon
Wallace was engaged along his whole front, now prolonged by the addition to his command of
Morrison's regiments.
The first charge against him was repulsed; whereupon he advanced to the top of the rising ground behind which he had sheltered his troops in the night.
A fresh assault followed, but, aided by a battery across the valley to his left, he repulsed the enemy a second time.
His men were steadfast, and clung to the brow of the hill as if it were theirs by holy right.
An hour passed, and yet another hour, without cessation of the fire.
Meantime the woods rang with a monstrous clangor of musketry, as if a million men were beating empty barrels with iron hammers.
Buckner flung a portion of his division on
McClernand's left, and supported the attack with his artillery.
The enfilading fell chiefly on
W. H. L. Wallace.
McClernand, watchful and full of resources, sent batteries to meet
Buckner's batteries.
To that duty
Taylor rushed with his company B; and
McAllister pushed his three 24-pounders into position and exhausted his ammunition in the duel.
The roar never slackened.
Men fell by the score, reddening the snow with their blood.
The smoke, in pallid white clouds, clung to the underbrush and tree-tops as if to screen the combatants from each other.
Close to the ground the flame of musketry and cannon tinted everything a lurid red. Limbs dropped from the trees on the heads below, and the thickets were shorn as by an army of cradlers.
The division was under peremptory orders to hold its position to the last extremity, and
Colonel Wallace was equal to the emergency.
it was now 10 o'clock, and over on the right
Oglesby was beginning to fare badly.
The pressure on his front grew stronger.
The “rebel yell,” afterward a familiar battle-cry on many fields, told of ground being gained against him. To add to his doubts, officers were riding to him with a sickening story that their commands were getting out of ammunition, and asking where they could go for a supply.
All he could say was to take what was in the boxes of the dead and wounded.
At last he realized that the end was come.
His right companies began to give way, and as they retreated, holding up their empty cartridge-boxes, the enemy were emboldened, and swept more fiercely around his flank, until finally they appeared in his rear.
He then gave the order to retire the division.
[
418]
W. H. L. Wallace from his position looked off to his right and saw but one regiment of
Oglesby's in place, maintaining the fight, and that was
John A. Logan's 31st Illinois.
Through the smoke he could see
Logan riding in a gallop behind his line; through the roar in his front and the rising yell in his rear, he could hear
Logan's voice in fierce entreaty to his “boys.”
near the 31st stood
W. H. L. Wallace's regiment, the 11th Illinois, under
Lieutenant-Colonel Ransom.
The gaps in the ranks of the two were closed up always toward the colors.
The ground at their feet was strewn with their dead and wounded; at length the common misfortune overtook
Logan.
To keep men without cartridges under fire sweeping them front and flank would be cruel, if not impossible; and seeing it, he too gave the order to retire, and followed his decimated companies to the rear.
The 11th then became the right of the brigade, and had to go in turn.
Nevertheless,
Ransom changed front to rear coolly, as if on parade, and joined in the
General retirement.
Forrest charged them and threw them into a brief confusion.
The greater portion clung to their colors, and made good their retreat.
By 11 o'clock
Pillow held the road to
Charlotte and the whole of the position occupied at dawn by the first division, and with it the dead and all the wounded who could not get away.
Pillow's part of the programme, arranged in the council of the night before, was accomplished.
The country was once more open to
Floyd.
Why did he not avail himself of the dearly bought opportunity, and march his army out?
without pausing to consider whether the
Confederate General could now have escaped with his troops, it must be evident that
 |
|
Branch of Hickman's Creek near James Crisp's House — the left of General C. F. Smith's line.
From a photograph taken in 1884. |
he should have made the effort.
Pillow had discharged his duty well.
With the disappearance of
W. H. L. Wallace's brigade, it only remained for the victor to deploy his regiments into column and march into the country.
The road was his.
Buckner was in position to protect Colonel head's withdrawal from the trenches opposite
General Smith on the right; that done
[
419]
 |
|
McAllister's Battery in action.
Captain Edward McAllister's Illinois Battery did good service on the 13th.
In his report he describes the manner of working the Battery: “I selected a point, and about noon opened on the four-gun Battery [see map, page 402] through an opening in which I could see the foe. Our fire was promptly returned with such precision that they cut our right wheel on howitzer number three in two.
I had no spare wheel, and had to take one off the limber to continue the fight.
I then moved all my howitzers over to the west slope of the ridge and loaded under cover of it, and ran the pieces up by hand until I could get the exact elevation.
The recoil would throw the guns back out of sight, and thus we continued the fight until the enemy's Battery was silenced.”
|
he was also in position to cover the retreat.
Buckner had also faithfully performed his task.
on the
Union side the situation at this critical time was favorable to the proposed retirement.
My division in the center was weakened by the dispatch of one of my brigades to the assistance of
General McClernand; in addition to which my orders were to hold my position.
As a point of still greater importance,
General Grant had gone on board the
St. Louis at the request of
flag-officer Foote, and he was there in consultation with that officer, presumably uninformed of the disaster which had befallen his right.
It would take a certain time for him to return to the field and dispose his forces for pursuit.
It may be said with strong assurance, consequently, that
Floyd could have put his men fairly en route for
Charlotte before the
Federal commander could have interposed an obstruction to the movement.
The real difficulty was in the hero of the morning, who now made haste to blight his laurels.
General Pillow's vanity whistled itself into ludicrous exaltation.
Imagining
General Grant's whole army defeated and fleeing in rout for
Fort Henry and the transports on the river, he deported himself accordingly.
He began by ignoring
Floyd.
He rode to
Buckner and accused him of shameful
[
420]
conduct.
He sent an aide to the nearest telegraph station with a dispatch to
Albert Sidney Johnston, then in command of the Department, asseverating, “on the honor of a soldier,” that the day was theirs.
Nor did he stop at that.
The victory, to be available, required that the enemy should be followed with energy.
Such was a habit of Napoleon.
Without deigning even to consult his chief, he ordered
Buckner to move out and attack the
Federals.
There was a gorge, up which a road ran toward our central position, or rather what had been our central position.
Pointing to the gorge and the road, he told
Buckner that was his way and bade him attack in force.
There was nothing to do but obey; and when
Buckner had begun the movement, the wise programme decided upon the evening before was wiped from the slate.
when
Buckner reluctantly took the gorge road marked out for him by
Pillow, the whole Confederate army, save the detachments on the works, was virtually in pursuit of
McClernand, retiring by the
Wynn's Ferry roadfalling back, in fact, upon my position.
My division was now to feel the weight of
Pillow's hand; if they should fail, the fortunes of the day would depend upon the veteran
Smith.
when
General McClernand perceived the peril threatening him in the morning, he sent an officer to me with a request for assistance.
This request I referred to
General Grant, who was at the time in consultation with
Foote.
Upon the turning of
Oglesby's flank,
McClernand repeated his request, with such a representation of the situation that, assuming the responsibility, I ordered
Colonel Cruft to report with his brigade to
McClernand.
Cruft set out promptly.
Unfortunately a guide misdirected him, so that he became involved in the retreat, and was prevented from accomplishing his object.
I was in the rear of my single remaining brigade, in conversation with
Captain Rawlins, of
Grant's staff, when a great shouting was heard behind me on the Wynn's Ferry road, whereupon I sent an orderly to ascertain the cause.
The man reported the road and woods full of soldiers apparently in rout.
An officer then rode by at full speed, shouting, “all's lost!
save yourselves!”
a hurried consultation was had with
Rawlins, at the end of which the brigade was put in motion toward the enemy's works, on the very road by which
Buckner was pursuing under
Pillow's mischievous order.
It happened also that
Colonel W. H. L. Wallace had dropped into the same road with such of his command as staid by their colors.
He came up riding and at a walk, his leg over the horn of his saddle.
He was perfectly cool, and looked like a farmer from a hard day's plowing.
“good-morning,” I said.
“good-morning,” was the reply.
“are they pursuing you?”
“Yes.”
“how far are they behind?”
that instant the head of my command appeared on the road.
The
Colonel calculated, then answered: “you will have about time to form line of battle right here.”
“Thank you. Good-day.”
“Goodday.”
at that point the road began to dip into the gorge; on the right and left there were woods, and in front a dense thicket.
An order was dispatched to bring Battery a forward at full speed.
Colonel John A. Thayer, commanding the brigade, formed it on the double-quick into line; the 1st Nebraska
[
421]
and the 58th Illinois on the right, and the 58th Ohio, with a detached company, on the left.
The
Battery came up on the run and swung across the road, which had been left open for it. Hardly had it unlimbered, before the enemy appeared, and firing began.
For ten minutes or thereabouts the scenes of the morning were reinacted.
The Confederates struggled hard to perfect their deployments.
The woods rang with musketry and artillery.
The brush on the slope of the hill was mowed away with bullets.
A great cloud arose and
 |
|
View on the line of Pillow's defenses in front of McClernand, showing water in the old trenches.
From a photograph taken in 1884. |
shut out the woods and the narrow valley below.
Colonel Thayer and his regiments behaved with great gallantry, and the assailants fell back in confusion and returned to the intrenchments.
W. H. L. Wallace and
Oglesby re-formed their commands behind
Thayer, supplied them with ammunition, and stood at rest waiting for orders.
There was then a lull in the battle.
Even the cannonading ceased, and everybody was asking, what next?
just then
General Grant rode up to where
General McClernand and I were in conversation.
He was almost unattended.
In his hand there were some
[
422]
papers, which looked like telegrams.
Wholly unexcited, he saluted and received the salutations of his subordinates.
Proceeding at once to business, he directed them to retire their commands to the heights out of cannon range, and throw up works.
Reinforcements were en route, he said, and it was advisable to await their coming.
He was then informed of the mishap to the first division, and that the road to
Charlotte was open to the enemy.
in every great man's career there is a crisis exactly similar to that which now overtook
General Grant, and it cannot be better described than as a crucial test of his nature.
A mediocre person would have accepted the news as an argument for persistence in his resolution to enter upon a siege.
Had
General Grant done so, it is very probable his history would have been then and there concluded.
His admirers and detractors are alike invited to study him at this precise juncture.
It cannot be doubted that he saw with painful distinctness the effect of the disaster to his right wing.
His face flushed slightly.
With a sudden grip he crushed the papers in his hand.
But in an instant these signs of disappointment or hesitation — as the reader pleases-cleared away.
In his ordinary quiet voice he said, addressing himself to both officers, “gentlemen, the position on the right must be retaken.”
with that he turned and galloped off.
seeing in the road a provisional brigade, under
Colonel Morgan L. Smith, consisting of the 11th Indiana and the 8th Missouri Infantry, going, by order of
General C. F. Smith, to the aid of the first division, I suggested that if
General McClernand would order
Colonel Smith to report to me, I would attempt to recover the lost ground; and the order having been given, I reconnoitered the hill, determined upon a place of assault, and arranged my order of attack.
I chose
Colonel Smith's regiments to lead, and for that purpose conducted them to the crest of a hill opposite a steep bluff covered by the enemy.
The two regiments had been formerly of my brigade.
I knew they had been admirably drilled in the
Zouave tactics, and my confidence in
Smith and in
George F. McGinnis,
Colonel of the 11th, was implicit.
I was sure they would take their men to the top of the bluff.
Colonel Cruft was put in line to support them on the right.
Colonel Ross, with his regiments, the 17th and 49th, and the 46th, 57th, and 58th Illinois, were put as support on the left.
Thayer's brigade was held in reserve.
These dispositions filled the time till about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, when heavy cannonading, mixed with a long roll of musketry, broke out over on the left, whither it will be necessary to transfer the reader.
the veteran in command on the
Union left had contented himself with allowing
Buckner no rest, keeping up a continual sharp-shooting.
Early in the morning of the 14th he made a demonstration of assault with three of his regiments, and though he purposely withdrew them, he kept the menace standing, to the great discomfort of his vis-a-vis. with the patience of an old soldier, he waited the pleasure of the
General commanding, knowing that when the time came he would be called upon.
During the battle of the gunboats he rode through his command and grimly joked with them.
He who never permitted the slightest familiarity from a subordinate, could yet indulge
[
423]
in fatherly pleasantries with the ranks when he thought circumstances justified them.
He never for a moment doubted the courage of volunteers; they were not regulars — that was all. If properly led, he believed they would storm the gates of his Satanic Majesty.
Their hour of trial was now come.
from his brief and characteristic conference with
McClernand and myself,
General Grant rode to
General C. F. Smith.
What took place between them is not known, further than that he ordered an assault upon the outworks as a diversion in aid of the assault about to be delivered on the right.
General Smith personally directed his chiefs of brigade to get their regiments ready.
Colonel John Cook by his order increased the number of his skirmishers already engaged with the enemy.
taking
Lauman's brigade,
General Smith began the advance.
They were under fire instantly.
The guns in the fort joined in with the
Infantry who were at the time in the rifle-pits, the great body of the
Confederate right wing being with
General Buckner.
The defense was greatly favored i by the ground, which subjected the assailants to a double fire from the beginning of the abatis.
The men have said that “it looked too thick for a rabbit to get through.”
General Smith, on his horse, took position in the front and center of the line.
Occasionally he turned in the saddle to see how the alignment was kept.
For the most part, however, he held his face steadily toward the enemy.
He was, of course, a conspicuous object for the sharp-shooters in the rifle-pits.
The air around him twittered with minie-bullets.
Erect as if on review, he rode on, timing the gait of his horse with the movement of his colors.
A soldier said: “I was nearly scared to death, but I saw the old man's white mustache over his shoulder, and went on.”
on to the abatis the regiments moved without hesitation, leaving a trail of dead and wounded behind.
There the fire seemed to get trebly hot, and there some of the men halted, whereupon, seeing the hesitation,
General Smith put his cap on the point of his sword, held it aloft, and called out, “no flinching now, my lads?-here-this is the way!
come on!”
he picked a path through the jagged limbs of the trees, holding his cap all the time in sight; and the effect was magical.
The men swarmed in after him, and got through in the best order they could — not all of them, alas!
on the other side of the obstruction they took the semblance of re-formation and charged in after their chief, who found himself then between the two fires.
Up the ascent he rode; up they followed.
At the last moment the keepers of the rifle-pits clambered out and fled.
The four regiments engaged in the feat — the 25th Indiana, and the 2d, 7th, and 14th Iowa--planted their colors on the breastwork.
Later in the day,
Buckner came back with his division; but all his efforts to dislodge
Smith were vain.
we left my division about to attempt the recapture of the hill, which had been the scene of the combat between
Pillow and
McClernand.
If only on account of the results which followed that assault, in connection with the heroic performance of
General C. F. Smith, it is necessary to return to it.
riding to my old regiments,--the 8th Missouri and the 11th Indiana,--I asked them if they were ready.
They demanded the word of me. Waiting
[
424]
a moment for
Morgan L. Smith to light a cigar, I called out, “forward it is, then!”
they were directly in front of the ascent to be climbed.
Without stopping for his supports,
Colonel Smith led them down into a broad hollow, and catching sight of the advance,
Cruft and
Ross also moved forward.
As the two regiments began the climb, the 8th Missouri slightly in the lead, a line of fire ran along the brow of the height.
The flank companies cheered while deploying as skirmishers.
Their Zouave practice proved of
excellent service to them.
Now on the ground, creeping when the fire was hottest, running when it slackened, they gained ground with astonishing rapidity, and at the same time maintained a fire that was like a sparkling of the earth.
For the most part the bullets aimed at them passed over their heads and took effect in the ranks behind them.
Colonel Smith's cigar was shot off close to his lips.
He took another and called for a match.
A soldier ran and gave him one. “Thank you. Take your place now. We are almost up,” he said, and, smoking, spurred his horse forward.
A few yards from the crest of the height the regiments began loading and firing as they advanced.
The defenders gave way. On the top there was a brief struggle, which was ended by
Cruft and
Ross with their supports.
the whole line then moved forward simultaneously, and never stopped until the
Confederates were within the works.
There had been no occasion to call on the reserves.
The road to
Charlotte was again effectually shut, and the battle-field of the morning, with the dead and wounded lying where they had fallen, was in possession of the Third division, which stood halted within easy musket-range of the rifle-pits.
It was then about half-past 3 o'clock in the afternoon.
I was reconnoitering the works of the enemy preliminary to charging them, when
Colonel Webster, of
General Grant's staff, came to
[
425]
me and repeated the order to fall back out of cannon range and throw up breastworks. ; “the
General does not know that we have the hill,” I said.
Webster replied: “I give you the order as he gave it to me.”
“very well,” said I, “give him my compliments, and say that I have received the order.”
Webster smiled and rode away.
The ground was not vacated, though the assault was deferred.
In assuming the responsibility, I had no doubt of my ability to satisfy
General Grant of the correctness of my course; and it was subsequently approved.
when night fell, the command bivouacked without fire or supper.
Fatigue parties were told off to look after the wounded; and in the relief given there was no distinction made between friend and foe. The labor extended through the whole night, and the surgeons never rested.
By sunset the conditions of the morning were all restored.
The Union commander was free to order a General assault next day or resort to a formal siege.
a great discouragement fell upon the brave men inside the works that night.
Besides suffering from wounds and bruises and the dreadful weather, they were aware that though they had done their best they were held in a close grip by a superior enemy.
A council of General and field officers was held at headquarters, which resulted in a unanimous resolution that if the position in front of
General Pillow had not been reoccupied by the
Federals in strength, the army should effect its retreat.
A reconnoissance was ordered to make the test.
Colonel Forrest conducted it. He reported that the ground was not only reoccupied, but that the enemy were extended yet farther around the
Confederate left.
The council then held a final session.
General Simon B. Buckner, as the junior officer present, gave his opinion first; he thought he could not successfully resist the assault which would be made at daylight by a vastly superior force.
But he further remarked, that as he understood the principal
 |
|
Rowlett's Mill (see map, page 402). from a photograph taken in 1884. |
object of the defense of
Donelson was to cover the movement of
General Albert Sidney Johnston's army from
Bowling Green to
Nashville, if that movement was not completed he was of opinion that the defense should be continued at the risk of the destruction of the entire force.
General Floyd replied that
General Johnston's army had already reached
Nashville, whereupon
General Buckner said that “it would be wrong to subject the army
[
426]
to a virtual massacre, when no good could result from the sacrifice, and that the
General officers owed it to their men, when further resistance was unavailing, to obtain the best terms of capitulation possible for them.”
both
Generals Floyd and
Pillow acquiesced in the opinion.
Ordinarily the council would have ended at this point, and the
commanding General would have addressed himself to the duty of obtaining terms.
He would have called for pen, ink, and paper, and prepared a note for dispatch to the
commanding General of the opposite force.
But there were circumstances outside the mere military situation which at this juncture pressed themselves into consideration.
As this was the first surrender of armed men banded together for War upon the
General government, what would the
Federal authorities do with the prisoners?
this question was of application to all the gentlemen in the council.
It was lost to view, however, when
General Floyd announced his purpose to leave with two steamers which were to be down at daylight, and to take with him as many of his division as the steamers could carry away.
General Pillow then remarked that there were no two persons in the
Confederacy whom the
Yankees would rather capture than himself and
General Floyd (who had been
Buchanan's
Secretary of War, and was under indictment at
Washington). as to the propriety of his accompanying
General Floyd, the latter said, coolly, that the question was one for every man to decide for himself.
Buckner was of the same view, and added that as for himself he regarded it as his duty to stay with his men and share their fate, whatever it might be.
Pillow persisted in leaving.
Floyd then directed
General Buckner to consider himself in command.
Immediately after the council was concluded,
General Floyd prepared for his departure.
His first move was to have his brigade drawn up. The peculiarity of the step was that, with the exception of one, the 20th Mississippi regiment, his regiments were all
Virginians.
A short time before daylight the two steamboats arrived.
Without loss of time the
General hastened to the river, embarked with his
Virginians, and at an early hour cast loose from the shore, and in good time, and safely, he reached
Nashville.
He never satisfactorily explained upon what principle he appropriated all the transportation on hand to the use of his particular command.
Colonel Forrest was present at the council, and when the final resolution was taken, he promptly announced that he neither could nor would surrender his command.
The bold trooper had no qualms upon the subject.
He assembled his men, all as hardy as himself, and after reporting once more at headquarters, he moved out and plunged into a slough formed by backwater from the river.
An icy crust covered its surface, the wind blew fiercely, and the darkness was unrelieved by a star.
There was fearful floundering as the command followed him. At length he struck dry land, and was safe.
He was next heard of at
Nashville.
General Buckner, who throughout the affair bore himself with dignity, ordered the troops back to their positions and opened communications with
General Grant, whose laconic demand of “unconditional surrender,”
[
427]
 |
|
fac-simile of the original “unconditional surrender” dispatch.
The original of the dispatch was obtained by Charles L. Webster & Co., publishers of General Grant's Memoirs, from Dr. James K. Wallace, of Litchfield, Conn., who received it, November 28th, 1868, from his relative by marriage, General John A. Rawlins, who, as chief of staff to General Grant, had the custody, after the capture, of General Buckner's papers.
General Rawlins told Dr. Wallace that it was the original dispatch.
The above is an exact reproduction of the original dispatch in every particular, except that, in order to adapt it to the width of the page, the word, “Sir,” has been lowered to the line beneath, and the words, “I am, sir, very respectfully,” have been raised to the line above.-editors. |
[
428]
in his reply to
General Buckner's overtures, became at once a watchword of the war.
The Third Division was astir very early on the 16th of February.
The regiments began to form and close up the intervals between them, the intention being to charge the breastworks south of
Dover about breakfast-time.
In the midst of the preparation a bugle was heard and a white flag was seen coming from the town toward the pickets.
I sent my adjutant-general to meet the flag half-way and inquire its purpose.
Answer was returned that
General Buckner had capitulated during the night, and was now sending information of the fact to the commander of the troops in this quarter, that there might be no further bloodshed.
The division was ordered to advance and take possession of the works and of all public property and prisoners.
Leaving that agreeable duty to the brigade commanders, I joined the officer bearing the flag, and with my staff rode across the trench and into the town, till we came to the door of the old tavern already described, where I dismounted.
The tavern was the headquarters of
General Buckner, to whom I sent my name; and being an acquaintance, I was at once admitted.
I found
General Buckner with his staff at breakfast.
He met me with politeness and dignity.
Turning to the officers at the table, he remarked: “
General Wallace, it is not necessary to introduce you to these gentlemen; you are acquainted with them all.”
They arose, came forward one by one, and gave their hands in salutation.
I was then invited to breakfast, which consisted of corn bread and coffee, the best the gallant host had in his kitchen.
We sat at the table about an hour and a half, when
General Grant arrived and took temporary possession of the tavern as his headquarters.
Later in the morning the army marched in and completed the possession.
