Chapter XXIV: The Guns

Morning broke with a heavy mist over Oostenaula and Connesauga, over
Rocky Face and Snake Creek Gap, over the village of Resaca, over the
Western and Atlantic Railroad, over the grey army and the blue army. A
keen, continual skirmishing began with the light. It extended along
the whole front, but with especial sharpness upon Hardee’s line. Some
blue cannon opened here, and for a time it seemed that at any moment
the main bodies, blue and grey, might crash through the fog into a
general and furious battle. Stevenson’s division, moving forward,
reoccupied the position gained the evening before. Wrapped in the
mist, wet with the morning dew, the men fell to work upon log and rail
and stump defences. Hindman’s line was next to Stevenson’s, and a blue
battery, well placed, was sending against Hindman, engaged in
thrusting back a blue assault, a stream of grape and canister.
Stevenson, ordered to help out Hindman, sent Max Van den Corput’s
battery of Johnston’s battalion to a point eighty yards in front of
his own line—a ragged hill, rising abruptly from the field, with a
wide and deep ravine beyond. In dust and thunder the battery came to
this place; the guns were run into position, the guns were served,
steady, swift, and well. “But,” says Stevenson, “the battery had
hardly gotten into position when the enemy hotly engaged my
skirmishers, driving them in, and pushing on to the assault with great
impetuosity. So quickly was all this done that it was impossible to
remove the artillery before the enemy had effected a lodgment in the
ravine in front of it, thus placing it in such a position that, while
the enemy was entirely unable to remove it, we were equally so,
without driving off the enemy massed in the ravine beyond it, which
would have been attended with great loss of life. The assaults of the
enemy were in heavy force and made with the utmost impetuosity, but
were met with a cool, steady fire which each time mowed down their
ranks and drove them back, leaving the ground thickly covered in
places with their dead....”

Along Hardee’s line the white puffs of cannon smoke showed all day
through. In the early afternoon came a courier with a note from
Walker, now at Calhoun. “No movement of the enemy observed. Think
report of passage of Oostenaula unfounded.” Johnston read, then
dispatched an order to Hood. “Prepare to attack enemy’s left as
indicated yesterday evening. Three brigades of Polk’s and Hardee’s
will support.” But later, as Hood was preparing to move forward, there
came a more breathless messenger yet from Walker. “The first report
was true, General! They crossed at Lay’s Ferry. Two divisions are
over, and others on the way.” Johnston listened with an impassive
face, then sent at once and countermanded Hood’s order. Stewart’s
division only was not checked in time. It attacked, and was roughly
handled before it could be recalled.

Lieutenant T.B. Mackall, aide-de-camp to General Mackall, chief of
staff, kept a journal of the operations, during these days, of the
Army of Tennessee. May fifteenth, 1864, he writes:—

“... 7 A.M. General Johnston has been on hill where Selden’s battery
is posted since firing began; is just going to ride to the right,
leaving General Mackall here. Skirmishing and artillery still going
on. 10 A.M. General Johnston returned to Selden’s battery an hour ago.
Answer sent to cipher of the President received yesterday: ‘_Sherman
cannot reinforce Grant without my knowledge, and will not as we are
skirmishing along our entire line. We are in presence of whole force
of enemy assembled from North Alabama and Tennessee._’ Ferguson’s
brigade of cavalry, also Brigadier-General Jackson have reached Rome.
Wheeler has just gone to upper pontoon bridge, which will not be ready
for crossing for fifteen minutes. It is in long range of the six-gun
battery put up last night on the hill which they captured. 11 A.M.
Very heavy musketry and artillery firing going on, apparently on
Hindman’s line. Just before it became so rapid General Johnston rode
up the Dalton road, apparently on account of some news brought by
Hampton from Hardee. About 11.15 battery on our extreme right opened.
Firing slackened on Hindman’s front. Battery on hill on our left
enfilades our trenches; riflemen annoying to our gunners. 12 M.
General Johnston has come back to Selden’s battery. The firing on
extreme right three quarters of an hour ago caused by enemy’s crossing
Connesauga in rear of Hood, capturing Hood’s hospital. A brigade of
our cavalry after them, supported by a brigade of Stewart’s. Captain
Porter, who went with General Johnston, came back. Says last reports
represent our troops driving enemy’s cavalry. 1.30 P.M. Heavy musketry
and artillery on Hindman’s front; began about fifteen minutes ago.
Lieutenant Wigfall has just come up to say enemy are making a very
determined attack on Hindman. General Johnston preparing to mount to
ride to Hood’s. Firing continuous. 3.30 P.M. Few minutes after writing
above rode off to General Hood’s with General Mackall, who accompanied
General Johnston. Found Hood where Dalton dirt road and railroad are
near each other and where we now are. Hindman, a few minutes after we
arrived, repulsed the enemy, who came up in some places to his
breastworks. Our reserves not used. Orders given for Stewart to take
enemy in flank; for wagons which were sent back to be brought up to
Resaca. Stevenson and Hindman to take up movement of Stewart.
Featherston brought from Polk’s line, also Maney and —— from Cheatham.
These supports came up in very short time. Stevenson, however, sent
word that enemy in three lines were preparing to attack Stewart’s
centre. 3.40 P.M. (In rear of Stewart’s line near railroad) Stewart
directed to receive attack and pursue. But slight skirmishing now;
enemy not making attack. 9.30 P.M. At house behind Selden’s battery
(headquarters at night). Orders given to withdraw from this place;
arrangements made and trains moving. This afternoon, about 4.30 P.M.,
Stewart, in obedience to orders to attack if his position was not
assaulted, advanced; soon his line was broken by a terrible fire of
Hooker’s corps, who were ready to attack. I had been sent to accompany
Major Ratchford to General Featherston (held in reserve) to order him
in the General’s name to take position in support of Stewart, near
Green’s house.

”_Monday, May 16._ On Calhoun and Adairsville road, two miles south of
Calhoun. While in field in rear of Stewart’s line and near railroad
last night, about dark, corps and division commanders assembled and
instructions given to effect withdrawal of army to south bank of
Oostenaula. Enemy had crossed force to south bank of river at Dobbin’s
Ferry; reported two divisions. Walker was facing them, immediately in
our front. He was entrenched, his line extending from Oostenaula River
to Tilton on Connesauga.... In two hours after Stewart’s repulse,
Cheatham, Hindman, Cleburne, etc., were assembled around the
camp-fires. Hardee had been there all evening. Routes and times fixed;
cars to be sent for the wounded; wagons and ambulances and most of
artillery to cross pontoons above; troops and artillery on Polk’s line
on railroad and small trestle bridge; an hour occupied in giving
orders, etc., and all dispersed, going to their headquarters. We rode
in; wagons not brought over. After writing dispatches ... lay down
(sleeping on porch of house in rear of Selden’s battery); waked by
noise—firing, confusion, etc.; saddle and mount. General Loring comes
up; all ride to roadside at foot of Selden’s battery, passing through
Hindman’s column, going to railroad bridge. Cheatham’s pass from his
line over small trestle bridge below. Night cloudy. Firing of musketry
and small arms on Hood’s line, which was rapid and continuous on first
waking, decreased. These troops (Cheatham’s and Hood’s) did not seem
at all alarmed, rather noisy and in very good humour. Enemy’s line on
river remarkably quiet.... Near Calhoun, 5.30 P.M. Order given to send
wagons back one mile and a half south of Adairsville. 6.30 P.M. Our
wagons parking; saddling.

“_Tuesday, May 17._ We reached Adairsville just before day, a little
ahead of troops. Cultivated, rolling country from Resaca to
Adairsville.”

Edward Cary lay, not in the hospital that was raided, but in a house
in the village. It was a fairly large house, and upstairs and down it
was filled with the wounded. The surgeons and the village women had
their hands full. He lay quite conscious, much weakened, but going to
recover. There were a number of pallets in this upper hall where he
had been placed. Officers and men occupied them, some much hurt,
others more slightly. A surgeon with a woman to help went from bed to
bed. The more frightful cases were downstairs, and from that region
there came again and again a wailing cry from flesh and blood and bone
under probe and saw. Out of doors the sun shone hot, and in at the
open, unshaded windows came a dull sound of firing. The flies were
bad. Two girls with palm-leaf fans, moving from pallet to pallet,
struggled with them as best they might, but in the blood and glare and
heat they settled again. The wounded moved their heads from side to
side, fought them away with their hands. Désirée came up the stairs
and into the hall. She had hanging at her waist a pair of scissors,
and in her arms a bolt of something dusty-white. Unrolled at the
stairhead, and cut swiftly into lengths, it proved to be mosquito
netting. “I found it in a little store here. They didn’t know they had
it.”

The hot, bright morning went on. Outside the firing swelled and sank
and swelled again. Sometimes it sounded far away, sometimes as though
it were in the street below. The less injured, the reasonably
comfortable, listened with feverish interest. “On the right
again!—Stevenson and Stewart have had the brunt.—No! that’s centre
now.—Cleburne, I think. He’s a good one! Who’s passing through the
street below? Old Joe? Give him a cheer, whoever’s got a voice!”

The morning wore on to hot noon. The village women had furnished
kettlefuls of broth that stony necessity made very thin. Such as it
was, it tasted good to the wounded who could eat and drink. For those
who turned moaningly away their comrades had the divinest pity. “Poor
fellow! he’s badly off! I reckon he’s going to die—Do you remember, at
Baker’s Creek, how he fought that gun all alone?”

Hot noon wore into sultry afternoon. The sun went behind a smooth pall
of greyish cloud. His going did not lessen the heat; there was no air,
a kind of breathless oppression. In the midst of it, and during what
seemed a three-quarter circle of firing, north, east, and west,
surgeons and orderlies appeared in the upper hall. “We’ve got to move
you folk! Yankees marching on Calhoun and so’s the Army of Tennessee.
Six miles by rail and the wagons are ready to take you to the station.
Cheer up, now! the whole Western Atlantic’s reserved for us!”

The crowded wagons drew off, each in a dust-cloud. They jolted, the
straw was thin in the bottom. The wounded tried to set their teeth,
but many failed and there were groans enough. The surgeon, riding at
the end of the wagon, kept up a low, practised, cheerful talk, and
some of the less hurt helped as best they might the others. Désirée,
because her eyes were so appealing, because she expected to go and
said as much, was given place upon the bed of one of the larger
wagons. She sat, curled up upon the straw, Edward’s head upon her lap,
her bent knee and the softness of her skirt easing, too, the position
of a grizzled lieutenant with a bullet through his cheek. The line of
wagons jolted through the dust to the station, where was the weary,
rusty engine, and the weary, dingy cars. Six miles over that roadbed
with green wood for fuel, with stalling and hesitations and pauses for
examination, meant a ride of an hour.

From some of the cars all the seats had been removed; others had seats
at one end, while two thirds of the flooring was bare. The badly hurt
were laid in rows upon the planks; those less injured were given the
seats, two, sometimes three, to a bench; others with bandaged arms and
heads must stand. Every box-on-wheels was crowded, noisy, hot, of
necessity dirty, of necessity evil-smelling. The cars and their burden
made the best of it; there was much suffering but no whining. The
engine wheezed and puffed, the wheels moved, the train rolled
southward out of Resaca. The more lively of the passengers, who were
by windows, talked for the benefit of the others. “Troops moving on
both roads—everybody getting in column—quiet and orderly—Old Joe
fashion! Still firing on the fringe of things—regular battle-cloud
over on our right!—Going to cross the river! Pretty river and pretty
name for. it.—Rivers and mountains—I’ve learned more geography in this
war!”

The train creaked and wavered across the Oostenaula. At the station
some one had given a wounded officer a newspaper procured from
headquarters—a three-days’ old issue of a Milledgeville paper. The
officer had both eyes bandaged across, and the man beside him could
not read aloud because his wound was in the throat. A third, sitting
on the floor, propped against the side of the car, tried, but after he
had read the headline he said that the letters all ran together. The
headline had said “GREAT BATTLE IN VIRGINIA” and the car—that part of
it which was at all at ease enough to listen—wanted to hear. Désirée,
standing beside Edward, took the paper and read aloud. Her voice was
sweet and deep and clear as a bell.

“_From Richmond. There has been a great battle in the Wilderness—_”

“The Wilderness! Like Chancellorsville—”

“_General Grant crossed on the fourth to the south side of Rapidan. We
met them on the fifth. The battle raged all day with varying success,
but when darkness fell the honours remained with us—_”

“Hip—hip—hooray!”

“_At dawn the attack was renewed, and this day saw also a bloody
struggle. General Longstreet, we regret to report was severely
wounded—_”

“Old Pete! How he struck at Chickamauga!”

“_At sunset Gordon of Ewell’s attacked the enemy’s right flank with
such fury that he drove him for a mile, capturing his entrenchments
and a great number of prisoners. Darkness closed the battle. Our loss
very heavy, the enemy’s much greater. As we go to press we learn that
on the eighth Grant began to move toward Spottsylvania Court-House._”

“The eighth! A week ago! Is that all it says?”

“There is nothing more from Virginia. But here is a letter from
Ripley, Mississippi. Forrest has been through that place, the enemy
after him—”

“Read that!”

On creaked the slow train, past the windows unrolled the Georgia
countryside, and where one saw a road one saw grey troops, grey
infantry, grey artillery, grey wagon-trains, all moving with the train
of the wounded, moving deeper into Georgia, moving toward Atlanta.
They moved nor fast nor slow, and if it was an army in retreat it did
not look the rôle. On went the train, in the heat, with the wounded.
No sun tormented, but the pall of the clouds held in the heat. There
had been two buckets of water to each car, but the water gave out
before they had been fifteen minutes from Resaca.

Hardee’s corps, reaching Calhoun, moved by Johnston’s orders out upon
the Rome road to where was met the Snake Creek Gap road to
Adairsville, upon which road the enemy was advancing. Here Hardee
deployed, formed a line, and held the blue in check while the
remainder of the grey came up. Joe Wheeler, in the rear, retarded all
advance from Resaca itself. The blue passage of the Oostenaula met,
too, with certain delays. Sherman, moving from Dalton behind Rocky
Face to cut the grey lines at Resaca, found the Army of Tennessee
there before him. Moving now behind Oostenaula to come upon the rear
of the grey at Calhoun, he found himself, as at Resaca, again face to
face.

Back in front of Resaca, under the darkening sky, upon the mound in
front of Stevenson’s line, above the ravine which had filled with a
blue host, stood yet the four guns which had been cut off early in the
day. “I covered the disputed battery with my fire,” says Stevenson,
“in such a manner that it was utterly impossible for the enemy to
remove it, and I knew that I could retake it at any time, but thought
it could be done with less loss of life at night, and therefore
postponed my attack. When ordered to retire I represented the state of
things to the general commanding, who decided to abandon the guns.”
And says Hood: “During the attack on General Stevenson a four-gun
battery was in position thirty paces in front of his line, the gunners
being driven from it and the battery left in dispute. The army
withdrew that night, and the guns, without caissons or limber-boxes,
were abandoned to the enemy, the loss of life it would have cost to
withdraw them being considered worth more than the guns.”

These four pieces constituted the only material lost or abandoned
during the seventy days. Now they stood there in a row with their grey
friends and comrades gone, with the blue rear guard not yet come to
take them; stood there in a solitude after throngs, in a silence after
sound. The sky was iron grey, the grass was trampled, the dead lay
upon the slope. The guns were all alone. Their metal was cold, their
lips no longer red; they stood like four sentinels frozen in death.
They stood high, against the wide and livid heaven. The cloudy day
declined; the night came dark and close, and into its vastness the
guns sank and disappeared like the guns of an injured ship at sea.