Chapter V: Part 5

I suffer no man, no old soldier, to stand before me in my admiration for the services rendered our country by that grand old hero, General W. T. Sherman, but in military life, like civil life, a man may be very valuable and great in one direction, and of very little value in another. That general was not developed during the war for the suppression of the rebellion, that could handle one hundred thousand men in such a fine manner, keeping them all in hand, like General Sherman. But when it came to fighting in a country the Atlanta campaign was fought over, with the defenses his army had to meet, his corps commanders, and his men generally, had very little confidence in his judgment. This feeling, that he knew was quite general, was the inspiration of the famous order that I have referred to before, issued after the battle of Kennesaw mountain, June 27th, 1864. I have it on the authority of Colonel Payne, that Generals Thomas, Logan, McPherson and others of his generals on the campaign, persuaded him out of many an assault he had ordered, that would have been as disastrous as that of Kennesaw mountain. But that any of them had the ability to do as well as he did I do not believe. General Thomas had the best of judgment in fighting a battle and what men could do and should attempt, but he would never have gotten his army there as Sherman did. Of course General Sherman never _admitted_ his mistake in ordering the assault at Kennesaw, but we all remember he never _repeated_ it during the remainder of the campaign.

In the position in front of Kennesaw we saw trees twelve inches in diameter cut completely off by the fire of musketry alone—simply bitten out, piece by piece, until the trees would fall. You can imagine about how much ammunition was expended?

On the third of July we found the rebels had again retired, and we followed up, passing through Marietta. We made a short stop near the Georgia State Military Institute. Some of us went up on one of the buildings and had a fine view of the surrounding country. We marched in all to the southward six miles this day, and turned in to get ready to celebrate the glorious fourth, to-morrow. The morning of the fourth opened with more than a national salute, and though we did not do much fighting there was plenty of cannonading on our right, and it was currently reported in camp that fifteen hundred prisoners had been captured, which caused "the day we celebrate" to be indeed a glorious fourth. The fifth we found the rebels had again abandoned their works in our front, and our regiment deployed as skirmishers, and held the advance of the division. We found, on the top of the hill that overlooks the Chattahoochee river, a "_butternut_" that had evidently tired of the southern confederacy, for, as Hood puts it, had "enlisted in the line." He had bent down a sapling, fastened a piece of bark around "his melancholy neck" and to the sapling, and then let go. He was one of those lank, lean rebels that had not flesh enough on his bones to even decay. He had dried up like a piece of beef, and was an elegant specimen of a confederate mummy. This item of news in time of peace would, undoubtedly, have furnished a sensational article for a Marietta paper, but the boys cut him down and the line moved on.

In the afternoon, as we approached the river, from the top of a high hill we saw Atlanta. It looked as good to us as the promised land did to Moses, as there we saw the end of this terribly exacting and fatiguing campaign. As we were driving the rebels down to the river, at the south side of an open field, the rebels erected rail barricades, from which it gave us some trouble to dislodge them. I thought by swinging the left of our line around we could "gobble them in," and not expose our center to their fire, protected as they were, and had sent word to that effect to Captain Raidaie, who had charge of that portion of the line. About this time General Tommy Wood, commander of our division, rode up, accompanied by one orderly. Without waiting for me to carry out my little strategy, or in fact consulting me at all, he at once ordered a charge. "Go in, brave boys." "Go in, brave boys." We, of course, drove the Johnnies from their rail barricade with the most perfect safety, as they put in all the time we were "double quicking" across the field, shooting at "Old Tommy;" fortunately the old general was in such a state of _spiritual exhilaration_ that he was in no danger of getting hurt. That night we drove the last rebel across the Chattahoochee river, and went into camp for several days.

We had been on the campaign sixty-three days. The enemy had been flanked out of four very strong positions, but nothing like a general engagement had been fought, nothing like a decisive battle had been won. Owing to the fact that where battles had been fought the enemy fought behind his works, on very advantageous ground, our losses must have been very much more severe than his. Our base of supplies was every day growing farther away, and our line of communications therewith requiring more men to guard. With the exception of the fact that we had run over some rebel territory, that we left in a condition to feed no more rebels, what had we gained.

The enemy during all these long weeks had been commanded by General Joseph E. Johnston. Of all the defensive officers, developed by the war on either side, I do not believe General Joseph E. Johnston had an equal. In the face of a vastly superior army, he had held four positions, fought many battles, and finally crossed the Chattahoochee river, and General Sherman had not been able to force him into a decisive engagement.

In all this defensive retreat General Johnston had not lost property to the value of a cracker box. While the country we had so far advanced over had been most favorable to a defensive campaign, nevertheless, I doubt if the history of the world can furnish another example of so well executed defensive work, as that conducted by General Joseph E. Johnston, from Ringgold to the Chattahoochee river. But fortunately for the right treason is not always associated with great ability. If the civil administration of the confederacy had been conducted as ably as the military, with all of its mistakes and blunders, the outcome would have been a matter of grave doubt. But fortunately for the Union and the cause of humanity, Mr. Jefferson Davis, the president of the confederacy, had not the ability to appreciate the services of one so able as the general that had so successfully opposed General Sherman on the Atlanta campaign. Generals Johnston and Sherman were both educated at our military academy at West Point, and were classmates. Each knew the other very well; and it was the plan of General Johnston, knowing the impetuosity of General Sherman, to destroy the union army by suffering it to continually give him battle behind his impregnable works, and from which continual mistakes General Sherman's able lieutenants had saved him (to which I have referred heretofore). General Johnston well knew, from the start, that he could not cope with the union army in an open field engagement, and he had planned to have so reduced Sherman's army, by the time he had reached and crossed the Chattahoochee river, that the two armies would be on something like equal terms as to men, and a more aggressive mode of warfare on the part of the rebel forces would give better promise of success. But after the confederate army had crossed the Chattahoochee river, the civil authorities at Richmond became alarmed. The president of the confederacy being the inspiration of the dissatisfaction that existed against General Sherman's heroic opponent, General Johnston was removed and General Hood placed in command of the rebel forces, and the sequel will show with what success. Had General Johnston been supported by the civil authorities at Richmond, as the good (or bad rather) of the confederate cause demanded, in my humble judgment, the music and sentiment of "Marching through Georgia," that so much amused the grand old general in his declining years, would never have been written. But I must stop this generalizing and return to the details of my narrative.

July 10th, 1864, again found us on the march to the left, and we moved in that direction about seven miles to near the headquarters of the 23d Corps, and on the twelfth, again struck tents, and moved down to the river, crossing the same on a canvas-boat pontoon bridge, and went into camp much nearer Atlanta than ever before. The next day we were again on the move, but only made a short distance and went into camp, and remained in camp until the seventeenth, when our brigade went to the river above, drove the Johnnies away, and saw one of General Sherman's pontoon companies put a bridge across the Chattahoochee river in just one hour and a quarter, and the 14th Army Corps commenced crossing. The next day we broke camp and started in the direction of Atlanta, General Newton's division taking the lead. We found nothing but skirmishers before us, who seemed entirely willing to fall back as fast as we came on. The next day, the nineteenth, we moved up to Peach Tree creek, and we found that a different commander was in charge of the rebels, for they attacked the 20th Corps with great spirit. But it did not seem to take the heroes of Lookout mountain long in an open field fight to do the Johnnies, as they seemed to be very glad to get away from them. This battle of Peach Tree creek was the first of Hood's battles, and in this he was very badly punished. Our regiment was not engaged more than in heavy skirmishing, but our captain, Sherburn B. Eaton, was badly, and in fact very dangerously, wounded. He was serving on staff duty at division headquarters at the time. The captain recovered from his wound, but not sufficiently to permit of his returning to the service. Captain Eaton was our first adjutant, and was as prompt an one as ever read orders on dress parade. He was a very scholarly gentleman, and from him we learned much; and if I remember correctly he learned some things from us. Some of us country boys, on the start, thought our adjutant a little stylish; but we found him brave in action, and that, like charity, covers a multitude of other seeming defects in a soldier.

General Sam. Beatty's brigade of our division captured a large number of men, and among them a number of officers. Though the burden of the battle of Peach Tree creek fell on Hooker's Corps, many other organizations bore quite important parts in the same. On the whole, we were all highly pleased with the change in the rebel commanders, and hoped he would keep up his present tactics. This open-field-battle business was just what we wanted, and had been praying for all summer, and only hoped Corporal Hood would indulge in them to excess.

On the twentieth of July we marched to the left, our division supporting the first division to within three miles of Decatur, and within four miles of Atlanta. Very heavy skirmishing in front, and McPherson reported within two miles of Atlanta. Hood charged Newton's division and Hooker's Corps, and was repulsed with great loss.

The twenty-first we broke camp very early, moved to the right, crossed the Peach Tree creek, moved to the front, and put up good works.

Early the morning of the twenty-second Hardee's Corps moved back to the east of Decatur, and struck McPherson's Corps on the left flank and rear, completely turning the same. The gallant general was killed at the front where he was trying to rearrange his line of battle, exposing himself to the enemy's sharpshooters. We all felt that all the brave general could have accomplished by his exposure was very poor recompense for the grand life thus sacrificed. Everything seemed to promise victory for the rebels until they had swept our line as far as the 15th Corps, when they found that Logan had changed his front to rear, and instead of there being anything like panic or confusion, they were met by a charge, led in person by that gallant general, that sent them whirling back to the place from which they started, leaving Logan in possession of the field. We were moved over to the left to the support of the 15th Corps, but were not put into the action; and I think could not have been without being mounted, such was the fury of Logan's charge. This was the third of Corporal Hood's battles before Atlanta, each one of which had resulted in defeat and great disaster. But our loss was terribly severe, as we lost one of our best corps commanders, which cast a gloom over the entire army. General James McPherson was not only loved by the army of the Tennessee, but was admired by all the men and officers that were so fortunate as to have formed his acquaintance.

The twenty-second we advanced our lines nearer the city and threw up very heavy intrenchments, and the next day strengthened them and put up a line of abatis in front. Our batteries spent their time in throwing shells into the city. I should say our skirmish line was out a mile from the ridge occupied by our works. We remained in this position for a number of days, and on the twenty-seventh moved out and marched around a hill to the left, seemingly a thousand and one times, to make the rebels believe we were moving to the left; but I guess we did not fool them much, as I never saw that anything ever came out of our demonstration.

On this position, at the left of our regiment and company, there was a battery of ten pound Rodman guns posted. These guns were rifled and were capable of throwing a shell five miles, they made us believe at least, and they spent their time throwing shells into Atlanta. Once every five minutes they dropped a shell into the city, which must have rendered it a very unpleasant place for a summer resort. The strangest thing about this whole business is, that we could lie down and go to sleep "in our little beds," and not hear those five minute guns _once_ all night long. Such is the power of habit.

At this position we received news that Sergeant Japhet Sooy had died at Chattanooga the sixteenth of July. Sergeant Sooy was one of the best of soldiers, and his great mirthfulness not only made him a great favorite with his own company, but with the entire regiment. All knew him to be brave and kind, as well as faithful and obedient. We also received word that Timothy Powers was buried at Chattanooga the twenty-eighth of July.

The news of these sad losses caused us to reflect on the condition of Company B that left Cleveland, Ohio, with one hundred strong and able- bodied men. Now twenty-five of them were under the ground, filling honorable, but many of them unknown, graves. I have not the record now before me, but I am certain that the other nine companies of this fighting regiment suffered equally as severe losses.

On the third of August the skirmish line in the front of our brigade left their pits, drove the rebel skirmish line back, and captured thirty of the Johnnies; and so persistently did our fellows hold the advanced position by them taken, that the rebels had to bring up a line of battle before they could restore their skirmish line. In this affair our regiment did not lose a man. This little action came about by our general officers thinking there were no rebels but a skirmish line in our front, and there was nothing to hinder us from going to Atlanta; but they soon found out there were plenty of those selfsame rebels between our line and the city we sought. We remained in this position a long time, doing more camp than field duty. General Sherman brought up a number of heavy siege guns from the rear and planted them to our right, and threw one hundred pounds of iron into the city at every discharge. What good this bombardment did I cannot now tell, save the destruction of a rebel city, which I have now come to regard as the right thing to do under the circumstances, and should have been commenced sooner. Somehow rebel cities seemed to suffer wherever General Sherman went, for which I entertain for his memory the profoundest respect.

While at Atlanta we lost the 9th Ind. from our brigade. Colonel Campbell had orders to report to Indianapolis for muster-out. We were sorry to part with the 9th as they were in every respect a first-class regiment, and could be always depended upon to take care of their part of the line. But they were now going home, after serving since 1861, having done their full share of service for their country.

August 26th, at about eight o'clock a. m., we commenced the movement to the right. This was the most terribly hot weather we had encountered; we marched not over eight miles, but more than half of our regiment fell out, completely overcome by the intense heat. That night our regiment was ordered on the skirmish line. The next day the regiment was ordered to move to the right, and marched about four miles. The next day the 14th Corps and its train passed us, and the general tendency of the army seemed to be to the right. The next day we struck what we called the Montgomery railroad. We destroyed about a mile of it pretty effectually. We turned the road over, built large fires, put in the rails, heated them hot, and then twisted them around trees and stumps. I have since thought of what sort of language the section-boss used, when he was sent to repair that track. I wonder if what we did that day made the confessional more expensive for him.

August 30th we moved out early, to a position near where we had been wrecking railroad; then marched in a southeasterly course to within four miles of the Macon railroad, as we called it at the time. We were offered very little resistance from the enemy, and this day we marched about ten miles. We were making the grand flank movement around Atlanta, so famous in history. On the last day of August we moved out from camp to a position on a ridge, and commenced putting up works. Plenty of enemy in our front. About eleven o'clock a. m. the rebels left their works, and we immediately started in pursuit. The 1st division took some prisoners. We struck the Macon railroad about four o'clock p. m. We saw a train pass over the road just as we came up. We selected a position and fortified it, and a detail destroyed the track. The next morning, our brigade being in the rear, we moved out late and marched down the railroad toward Jonesborough. Heavy cannonading at the front, and we learned that the regular brigade had made an assault on the enemy's position and had been repulsed; but we were also informed that General Mitchell's brigade had renewed the assault, drove the rebels from their works, captured a six gun battery and two thousand prisoners.

On the second day of September, 1864, we moved out early, marched through Jonesborough, and found the enemy in position about three miles south of town on the railroad. We formed in line of battle, and made an attack on both his flanks, but failed, for some reason, to pass beyond them. Here we learned that Atlanta had fallen and was in our possession, and the rejoicing along our line was immense. The news was soon confirmed by a circular from division headquarters, stating that the rebels had blown up two of their trains of ammunition and seven siege guns. This accounted for the noise, that sounded more like an explosion than a battle, that we had heard the night before. For some reason entirely unknown to your humble servant, General Sherman did not desire to pursue Corporal Hood any further south, and our line of battle was withdrawn. So Atlanta had fallen after a campaign of one hundred and twenty-two days. The distance from Chattanooga to Atlanta by the railroad is one hundred and thirty-eight miles, but we had marched, undoubtedly, more than that distance by a great many miles, in the flank movements we had made.

On the eighth day of September, 1864, we marched into and through the "gate city of the south." We put on all the style of which our dirty and ragged condition would permit, forming our regiments in column by company, with our bands playing and colors flying. We marched down Marietta street, and the few citizens we saw did not lay themselves out to give us a cordial welcome. This street was the nearest _ruins_ of anything west of the Atlantic. We saw one large sign that I suppose the visitor could hardly find in the new Atlanta. It extended the entire front of a block and read: "Slaves At Auction." We marched three miles east of town and went into camp, and the Atlanta campaign was ended.

I have tried to give you, though very imperfectly, my recollections of this, the greatest campaign ever made on the western continent. To the general hearer it would have been more interesting, without doubt, to have given the outlines of the campaign, omitting the details of each day's movements with their dates; but as many of that old fighting regiment (of which I had the honor of being a member) are still alive, I thought it my duty to place upon record a detailed account of their sufferings and triumphs. General Sherman had, indeed, broken the shell of the confederacy; but I must say (and I think my comrades will agree with me) it was, by all odds, the _toughest shell_ we ever helped to crack.

For more than one hundred days, of the one hundred and twenty-two days of the Atlanta campaign, we had been under fire. The graves of our dear dead comrades are scattered thickly from Dalton to Jonesborough.

The red earth of our intrenchments marks the hillsides and beautiful mountains of northern and central Georgia.

The campaign was the severest blow the rebellion had received up to that time, and from Atlanta, General Sherman commenced his grand march to the sea.

FROM ATLANTA TO NASHVILLE.

The campaign of Atlanta practically closed with the abandonment of the city by the rebels, September 2d, 1864. The confederate forces still occupied a position near Jonesborough, about thirty miles south of Atlanta. The campaign had ended by the federal forces arriving at a certain geographical point. The confederate forces, although somewhat shattered and reduced by the battles dating from Peach Tree creek forward, were still intact. The rebel forces were still in command of Hood; and with him were some able fighting officers, in the persons of Cleburne, Hill, Hardee, Adams and others.

On our arrival at Atlanta, General Sherman immediately commenced preparations for the grand march to the sea. It was at once evident that he intended to abandon his line of communications, for he commenced to build a fort large enough for the garrison he intended to leave at Atlanta. This fort he built substantially in the heart of the city, and destroyed the balance because in the way of the fort. So when General Sherman took up his world-renowned march for the seaboard, but very little of the "gate city of the south" remained standing. While these preparations were going forward the 124th regiment was in camp about three miles southeast of Atlanta, busy in cleaning up, drawing new clothing, and recuperating from the effects of the arduous campaign just closed. We had not been in camp many days before we were astonished by the news that the Sanitary Commission, a patriotic organization of the loyal citizens of the north (whose ramifications penetrated to every city, village, hamlet and farm of the loyal states), had sent us a train load of Irish potatoes. This may seem a small matter to take note of after so many years and read to you, who in all your lives have never know the want of anything to eat your appetites might crave, but what do you say of a lot of men that from January 1st, 1863, to September, 1864, had not feasted, even their eyes, on a potato? If you could, at your home, surrounded with all the delicacies of the culinary art, be deprived of the common potato for eighteen months, you could then appreciate our situation. The cheers and shouting that went up, mid- afternoon, when the commissary department sent word to the regiments it had potatoes to issue, were enough to make one think the news of some great victory had been communicated to us. And when the stream of potatoes began to be diverted and divided to the companies and messes, it was too comical for anything, those great bronzed and weather-beaten soldiers, running around with their hands full of potatoes, and to see the fires lighted at that time of day, and the little kettles, or pails rather, filled and put on brimming full of potatoes; then when cooled to see the feasting—potatoes served with salt. I suppose you would demand nice Jersey butter, but salt was good enough for us. And this is not all I have to say of that commission organized from the loyal citizens of the north. It brought us by the car load, pickled cabbage and onions; and how refreshing they were to us that had not tasted vegetable food for eighteen long months. I do not believe there is an old veteran alive to-day that does not bless from the bottom of his heart, that greatest and most magnificent of charities ever organized—the Sanitary Commission.

We had stayed in camp, as I said, while General Sherman was preparing for his march to the sea; busy each day with drilling, foraging for corn, and all the many things necessary to keep companies and regiments in good shape, as per the army regulations. We had hoped, as had each regiment of the Army of the Cumberland, that it would be our good fortune to go with Sherman on his march south, and it was with not a little chagrin and heartburning that we were not called, neither chosen, to go on that march, that has been the wonder and admiration of the military critics of all nations.

It had been determined by General Sherman that our corps (the 4th), commanded by General Stanley, and the 23d Corps, commanded by General Schofield—these two corps, and all other organizations of troops between Atlanta and Nashville, to be in command of General George H. Thomas. Howard was placed in command of the army of the Tennessee, whereby we lost the services of General Hooker. The remainder of the army (save the brigade of regulars, that were sent back to the top of Lookout mountain where they would be out of danger) was chosen by General Sherman to make the march to the sea. But you must not suppose that this choice was made by reason of any superiority of that portion of the army that went with him. It had turned out that Corporal Hood had made up his mind that if Sherman could cut away from his base of supplies, and march south into the enemy's country, he (Hood) ought to be able to march north, among his dearly beloved friends; and if Sherman struck a heavy blow south, he would get in his counter up north. And with the 23d and 4th Corps only, left by Sherman, Hood had two men to Thomas' one.

But before passing to the details of the campaign upon which we were about to enter, suffer me to remark that the same painstaking preparation by General Sherman that I referred to in the "Atlanta Campaign," was going forward. The most rigid surgical examination was had in every company of every man whose health was suspected, or where there could be anything found that incapacitated him from performing the supposed arduous duties to be imposed upon him. All that could not stand this rigid test were sent north. Would you not suppose that many would have taken advantage of this examination to have gotten rid of a campaign that seemed fraught with dangers, and so difficult of execution? On the contrary, I am informed by high authority that those that were rejected felt themselves grossly insulted and degraded as soldiers. Neither was this crucial examination confined to the men—the animals were carefully inspected, and all those not perfectly sound were sent to the rear, or disposed of in some other way. The same of arms and accouterments; so that when General Sherman turned his face toward the salt sea breezes of the Atlantic, he had under his command as hardy, as healthy, as determined, and as brave an army of veterans as ever caused the earth to tremble under their tread.

It now seemed that Hood wanted a little more of the smell of our powder before he took his little excursion to the mountains of Tennessee, for we heard he was in force north of Marietta, and was threatening one of our fortified positions at Altoona Pass, that Sherman had used as a sub- base of supplies during the Atlanta campaign. So October 3d, 1864, we broke up camp and marched to within five miles of Marietta, and camped in the rebel works that had been constructed by them, first, after leaving their position at Kennesaw mountain. This was good marching, having started from our camp, three miles east of Atlanta, at four o'clock p. m.

The fourth, we struck tents at noon and marched through Marietta to the front of Kennesaw, and again found the rebel works convenient. Plenty of rebels reported at Big Shanty, a short distance north. This two days' marching shows how much easier to retrograde than to advance, in the face of the enemy. It had taken us to go from Kennesaw mountain to Atlanta, from July 22d to September 2d, and we had returned in a part of two days. The fifth we moved out of our camp and marched north to Piny Knob, and formed in line of battle along the base of the mountain. Sherman had a signal corps or station on the top of this mountain. Some of us went up to the station, and we could distinctly see Altoona Pass, and see the smoke of the battle in progress there, as well as watch the advancing columns General Sherman was sending forward for the relief of General Corse, who was gallantly defending the works there, against overpowering numbers of the enemy. It was here, from this mountain top, that General Sherman signaled to General Corse "Hold the fort for I am coming," that some one has immortalized in sacred song. Several of the old 124th stood not twenty feet from the old general, when this famous dispatch was being signaled from the top of Piny Knob to the gallant Corse, who at that time was suffering from a dangerous wound he received while in the defense he was making. But Hood, evidently, did not care to fight on equal terms, and withdrew in the direction of Lost mountain, and afterwards moved in the direction of Rome, Ga.; and Sherman, leaving Old Pap Thomas to look after and care for Corporal Hood, turned his face toward the south, and that was the last day of the war we ever saw our beloved Uncle Billy. It was with a feeling of sadness that we saw him depart, for we had learned to love and trust in him as we had no other commander. We marched north through Altoona Pass, which still showed evidences of the sanguinary conflict that had taken place there. We marched all night after we went through the Pass, sleeping fifteen minutes each hour. It was perfectly surprising to see how quickly the regiment would go to sleep when the halt was sounded. When the assembly call came it was some trouble to wake the tired soldiers, but usually we were soon all in line, and marching on for another hour. The next day we marched all day long, after halting, making coffee, and taking breakfast near the Etowah river. On this march I first discovered the fact that it was possible for one to march and be sound asleep, for on waking up I discovered that no portion of the landscape had a familiar look, showing that one had been asleep long enough for the landscape to entirely change by our moving forward. This marching back on the railroad track was very hard, as the road was not in very good shape, and we were in danger of falling through trestles; and during the night, every now and then, some sleepy soldier would get off his guard, and his head would go down on the rail, making everything jingle. All the sympathy such unfortunates received would be the shouts and jeers of his comrades to which he often replied in language _just bordering on the profane_. This marching did not differ much from day to day, and on the fifteenth day of October we crossed the Rocky Face mountains. We went out over the Chickamauga battlefield and saw very many of the bones of our unknown comrades still unburied, that had fallen there more than a year before.

What strange feelings come over one as he passes over the field where he fought, and his loved comrades fell. It seems as though they were with him again in all of their manly beauty; he can see their stern looks of defiance; can hear the rattle of the musketry, the thunder of the artillery, the shouts of victory, the thud of the fatal minie, the dying groan, the last good-bye; and the specter battle seems as real as when engaged in the deadly conflict of the year before. The timber was badly torn down by the shot and shells on that portion of the field over which we passed. I remember the last day our Colonel Payne was with us. The regiment was marching left in front that day, and of course that brought my company next to the colonel and his staff. We made a halt near Rossville, and laid down on the grass to rest. It was a beautiful Indian summer evening; and while in conversation with the colonel he informed me he intended to leave the regiment at Chattanooga; "thought he had done his part," which was true, having nearly lost his life from a wound he received at Chickamauga. I was surprised to learn of his intention to leave us, as this was the first intimation that I had of his intention to resign; but what surprised me most was the despairing view he seemed to take of the war. He said to me, "We never can conquer the south, and if we do children yet unborn will fight in this war." I replied: "They would have to muster them in pretty young, if they did, and I expect to see the end of the rebellion the next year." I think it must have been the depressing effect of our retrograde movement that had taken such a hold on our brave young colonel, for it did seem to many that all our arduous campaign to Atlanta had been for naught.

Many thought it presumptuous in General Sherman to leave a large rebel army to be opposed by an army of about half its numbers. But General Sherman knew him that was in command of the rebel army, and knew very well the grand old Virginian he had intrusted with the taking care of him. We went into camp around Chattanooga, the place that had been the scene of so much of sorrow and rejoicing the year before. We soon heard that Hood was marching for the Tennessee river about Decatur, and we were put into and on freight cars, and started in the night for that point.

A large part of my company was on the top of the cars, and many of them went to sleep in that dangerous situation and caused me very much anxiety. Many a time during that night of peril I found a comrade just on the edge of the car, liable to fall off with any little jolt. I never remember passing a more perilous night. The next day we "came off the roof" of the cars, and soon commenced the march northward for Pulaski.

When we came to the Duck river, that we had crossed the year before at Manchester, there a mere mountain stream, we found a considerable river, and so swollen with rains that it gave us considerable difficulty in crossing. We soon arrived at Pulaski, a beautiful little village in middle Tennessee. This is the best portion of the state, and so much has nature done for it, that had it not been for the blighting influence of slavery, might have truthfully been denominated the garden spot of the United States. We had not been in Pulaski many days before Forrest's cavalry appeared on our flanks, and we heard that Hood had crossed the Tennessee river. We now took the pike again and moved up as far as the village of Columbia, the home of several distinguished officers of the confederate army. Here we went into camp, and did considerable intrenching, our flanks resting on the Elk river. We arrived at Columbia the twenty-fourth of October, and remained there until the night of the twenty-ninth. During the day of the twenty-ninth our regiment was sent up the river to watch a ford, and we watched it nicely, seeing the rebel infantry crossing all day; but we had no orders to do anything but watch. That afternoon we heard heavy firing in the direction of Spring Hill, and we afterwards learned that our first division had been sharply engaged with Cheatham's division, and had most handsomely checked the rebel advance. At dark we were called in, and commenced the march northward again. I should say it was about midnight when Adjutant Hammer came riding back directing the company commandants to have the men so adjust their canteens and bayonet scabbards that as little noise be made as possible, that we were in the immediate presence of the enemy. This we could hardly believe. Were it possible that the rebels had gotten a position cutting our army in twain? We believed nothing of the kind, but, nevertheless, obeyed the order like the true veteran soldiers that we were. Soon we saw two lines of fires running away to the northeast, and the left end of the line nearest us was so near the pike one could have cast a stone into it without much effort. Were it possible these two lines of bivouac fires represented the two lines of blue and gray that had been fighting there the afternoon before? It was true. Such were the facts. And yet our division, the 3d, and a wagon train twelve miles long, passed along that pike, with all the noise incident to the moving of a wagon train and artillery attached to our division, without hindrance or molestation from the enemy.

Not a shot was fired, not a rebel picket nor skirmish line encountered, as we passed the left flank of the enemy's line. Yet, they knew we were there, for several of our men wandered from the column and went over to the fires to warm, and were captured. Was there treason to the confederacy? The fighting the next day fully answers that question in the negative. Hood claims, I am told, that his officers were drunk and failed to attack as he had ordered, and thereby let our division pass him at Spring Hill. This may be true, for middle Tennessee makes a kind of whiskey that will take the W. C. T. U. a long time to eradicate. A single skirmish line across the pike that night would have so delayed us, incumbered with the train, as we were (the train could not have been moved off the pike), that it hardly seems possible that General Stanley could have reunited the divisions of his corps. Thus was the golden opportunity of Hood lost. We soon left the rebel fires behind us, and with our train well ahead, and our divisions united, we had little to fear from an army commanded by such a general as Hood. I have read somewhere a confederate account of this transaction, and the writer, though claiming to have been on the spot, fails to give anything like a rational reason for the confederate forces letting us pass them October 30th, at Spring Hill.

The next morning we halted and made coffee beside the pike. While breakfasting, a squad of rebel cavalry dashed up to the train, fired a few shots, and were away like the wind. As we neared Franklin we came up with some new regiments that General Thomas had hurried on from Nashville, to meet and assist us in case we were forced to a battle before we reached Nashville. These poor fellows that had been as far south as Spring Hill, and were returning that morning, were mostly completely played out, and filled the fence corners all along the pike. I am sorry to say the hardy veterans that swung along after marching all night treated them to expressions of which the following are samples: "Fresh fish." "Fresh fish." "There lies $1000 and a cow." "How much did you get?" "Say Jimmy, who owns you?" "Millions in it." These poor fellows, with knapsacks larger than a mule should be required to carry, received these taunts and jeers with silent disgust; and quite likely the most of them at this time are drawing pensions for disabilities received in the service and in the line of duty, while the old veteran of scores of battles and skirmishes, of hundreds of miles of marches, though broken in health, and prematurely old by reason of his hard service, _has no hospital record_, and suffers great difficulties in establishing his claim for a pension. Something wrong, somewhere, sure.

We arrived at Franklin about noon, and found the 23d Corps in position and throwing up works from the Harpeth river above the village to the river below. With this place we were very familiar. We first came here in February, 1863. This was our camp of instruction. We assisted in building the fort, with its large magazine on the north side of the river and to the left of the village facing south. We that had worked out many a weary detail asking, "What is all this worth?" "What is this for, miles—miles from the enemy and the front," had the opportunity, this thirtieth day of October, 1864, of seeing our labor richly rewarded. We use to do picket duty north of the river and town, and knew every foot of that country; and our Lieutenant Colonel Pickands and Adjutant Hammer enjoyed the reputation of knowing some of the rebel girls, with which the village swarmed. I remembered one Sally Atkinson, who lived near our picket line, in fact the line ran through her father's dooryard, who was a fine player on the piano, and something of a singer. She, like all the southern women, was a bitter rebel, and used to entertain the boys with "The bonny blue flag," and other rebel songs. She often boasted of having two brothers in the rebel service. But more of this anon.

Our wagon train was on the north side of the river, pulling out for Nashville to the full extent of its mule power. Those not familiar may be interested in a brief description of the field where the battle of Franklin was fought. The Harpeth river makes quite a sharp bend to the north, and the formerly very rich village, built very compactly, occupies the most of the room in the bend. Here, before the war, was the home of many rich cotton planters, for as you all will remember, this is the heart of the cotton growing belt of Tennessee. The turnpike running from the southern part of the state, through Pulaski, Columbia, and on to Nashville, ran through about the center of Franklin. The Harpeth river is a small stream, made largely of springs, but running through a limestone region, lay in deep pools much of its way, that only rendered it fordable above and below the town. To the left of the pike going south from town there was a large cotton field, stretching to the left, nearly to the river, and extending to the south, I should say, from half to three-quarters of a mile to a line of hills, that rise quite abruptly and constitute a picturesque landscape. Across this cotton field, from east to west, ran our works, as I have said, from river above to river below. At and near the pike, and to the left of the same, was planted all of the field artillery that we possessed. It was the fortune of our regiment to be detailed to cross the river, go down below the pike bridge, intrench the south bank and guard the ford; and while we witnessed the battle we were not called into it, and did not have occasion to fire a shot at the point where we were stationed. Our line, as you will understand from this brief description, was of necessity short, and in some places was supported by a reserve line. General Hood came up with his forces and formed his charging columns under the cover of the hills at the south. He visited each division and brigade, to which he stated that all the confederate soldiers had to do was to take the rude works in front of Franklin, Thomas' army would be captured, and Nashville with all of its vast military stores of clothing, provisions and ammunition would fall into their hands. That Hood was a good man to fight, about a division, I think is conceded; but I take it, if Thomas had been consulted, and could have had the directing of Hood, he would not have had him done any different from what he did. Hood had in all arms, about forty-five thousand men when he came before Franklin. He had about six thousand cavalry, under General Forrest, that instead of using on our flanks and rear, he sent off to Murfreesborough to take the fort that was garrisoned by a few regiments of recent enlistment. The fort was easily defended against Forrest and would have been had his force been double what it was. Forrest was a raider, but in no sense a fighter. Schofield had not more than twenty thousand men, all told, some of which were on duty with the train. But twenty thousand old veterans, as my old soldier friends will bear me witness here to-day, are hard to go out and get, especially, if you come straight up to the front door, and this Corporal Hood, in a very gentlemanly manner, did.

Hood formed his charging column in three lines, extending across the old cotton field from east to west; his right reaching the river, his left resting on the pike. About three o'clock he made his first assault. His lines came on in fine style. The heavy guns in the fort commenced shelling unmercifully as soon as the assaulting column emerged from behind the hills, and when it reached a point near enough the field artillery opened with shrapnel and canister, making fearful havoc in the ranks of gray. But nothing daunted those charging lines, led by that best of fighting generals, Pat Cleburne, came on until they reached a point within two hundred yards of our works, when our infantry opened such a murderous fire over that level field that no valor could stand before its destructive torrent. The assaulting column broke, and the personal presence of Hood and his daring lieutenant could not rally them until they were behind the sheltering protection of the hills where they were first formed. The assault was repeated time after time, until nine o'clock that night. In one of these assaults the rebels charged to our works and drove our first line out of them for a short distance; but Colonel Opdyke's brigade, lying close in the rear, at once charged, restoring the line and capturing over a thousand prisoners. The rebels were taken entirely unawares by the charge made by Opdyke's brigade. When they captured that portion of the line they seemed to think our forces had left, for Opdyke found them sitting down on the top of the works; some of them, having laid their guns aside and lighted their pipes, were enjoying the _solace of the soldier_.

Our field artillery did most magnificent work, but suffered heavily. One battery of the Ohio regiment of artillery lost all the men it had at one gun, save a sergeant, and he loaded and gave the charging column one dose of canister after his left arm had been blown off.

This battle of Franklin was one of the most sanguinary, and to the rebel army one of the most disastrous, of the war. Hood lost four general officers, among them was the celebrated Pat Cleburne, that our division had been opposed to so many times on the Atlanta campaign. He fell in one of the many charges that afternoon, his horse's fore legs resting on our works. As soon as it was certain that the enemy did not intend to renew the conflict that night, our troops began to retire to the south side of the river. The bridge across the stream was covered with blankets to a depth of six or eight inches, and the artillery was moved across without noise; and by two o'clock a. m. of the thirty-first of October the last regiment was on the south side of the river and on the march for Nashville. Our wounded were left in the village, those that could not be moved, and surgeons to take care of them.