My Days and Nights on the Battle-Field Part 15

The woods rang with the exultant shouts of the Rebels, as Prentiss and his men were marched towards Corinth. They had possession of the camps of all the divisions except Wallace's. Beauregard had redeemed his promise. They could sleep in the enemy's camps.

SUNDAY EVENING.

Look at the situation of General Grant's army. It is crowded back almost to the Landing. It is not more than a mile from the river to the extreme right, where Sherman and McClernand are trying to rally their disorganized divisions. All is confusion. Half of the artillery is lost.

Many of the guns remaining are disabled. Some that are good are deserted by the artillerymen. There is a stream of fugitives to the Landing, who are thinking only how to escape. There are thousands on the river-bank, crowding upon the transports. They have woeful stories. Instead of being in their places, and standing their ground like men, they have deserted their brave comrades, and left them to be overwhelmed by the superior force of the enemy.

As you look at the position of the army and the condition of the troops at this hour, just before sunset, there is not much to hope for. But there are some men who have not lost heart. "We shall hold them yet,"

says General Grant.

An officer with gold-lace bands upon his coat-sleeve, and a gold band on his cap, walks up-hill from the Landing. It is an officer of the gunboat Tyler, commanded by Captain Gwin, who thinks he can be of some service.

Shot and sh.e.l.ls from the Rebel batteries have been falling in the river, and he would like to toss some into the woods.

"Tell Captain Gwin to use his own discretion and judgment," is the reply.

The officer hastens back to the Tyler. The Lexington is by her side. The men spring to the guns, and the sh.e.l.ls go tearing up the ravine, exploding in the Rebel ranks, now ma.s.sed for the last grand a.s.sault. All day long the men of the gunboats have heard the roar of the conflict coming nearer and nearer, and have had no opportunity to take a part, but now their time has come. The vessels sit gracefully upon the placid river. They cover themselves with white clouds, and the deep-mouthed cannon bellow their loudest thunders, which roll miles away along the winding stream. It is sweet music to those disheartened men forming to resist the last advance of the Rebels, now almost within reach of the coveted prize.

Colonel Webster, General Grant's chief of staff, an engineer and artillerist, with a quick eye, has selected a line of defence. There is a deep ravine just above Pittsburg Landing, which extends northwest half a mile. There are five heavy siege-guns, three thirty-two-pounders, and two eight-inch howitzers on the top of the bluff by the Landing. They have been standing there a week, but there are no artillerists to man them. Volunteers are called for. Dr. Cornyn, Surgeon of the First Missouri Artillery, offers his services. Artillerists who have lost their guns are collected. Round shot and sh.e.l.l are carried up from the boats. Fugitives who have lost their regiments are put to work.

Pork-barrels are rolled up and placed in a line. Men go to work with spades, and throw up a rude embankment. The heavy guns are wheeled into position to sweep the ravine and all the ground beyond. Everything is done quickly. There is no time for delay. Men work as never before.

Unless they can check the enemy, all is lost. Energy, activity, determination, endurance, and bravery must be concentrated into this last effort.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIGHT AT THE RAVINE.

1 Union batteries.

2 Rebel batteries.

3 Ravine.

4 Gunboats.

5 Transports.]

Commencing nearest the river, on the ridge of the ravine, you see two of McAllister's twenty-four-pounders, next four of Captain Stone's ten pounders, then Captain Walker with one twenty-pounder, then Captain Silversparre with four twenty-pounder Parrott guns, which throw rifled projectiles, then two twenty-pound howitzers, which throw grape and canister. Then you come to the road which leads up to Shiloh church.

There you see six bra.s.s field-pieces; then Captain Richardson's battery of four twenty-pounder Parrott guns; then a six-pounder and two twelve-pound howitzers of Captain Powell's battery; then the siege-guns, under Surgeon Cornyn and Captain Madison; then two ten-pounders, under Lieutenant Edwards, and two more under Lieutenant Timony. There are more guns beyond,--Taylor's, Willard's, and what is left of Schwartz's battery, and Mann's, Dresser's, and Ross's,--about sixty guns in all.

The broken regiments are standing or lying down. The line, instead of being four miles long, as it was in the morning, is not more than a mile in length now. The regiments are all mixed up. There are men from a dozen in one, but they can fight notwithstanding that.

The Rebel commanders concentrate all their forces near the river, to charge through the ravine, scale the other side, rush down the road and capture the steamboats. They plant their batteries along the bank, bringing up all their guns, to cut their way by shot and sh.e.l.l. If they can but gain a foothold on the other side, the day is theirs. The Union army will be annihilated, Tennessee redeemed. Buell will be captured or pushed back to the Ohio River. The failing fortunes of the Confederacy will revive. Recognition by foreign nations will be secured. How momentous the hour!

Beauregard's troops were badly cut to pieces, and very much disorganized. The Second Texas, which had advanced through the peach-orchard, was all gone, and was not reorganized during the fight.

Colonel Moore, commanding a brigade, says: "So unexpected was the shock, that the whole line gave way from right to left in utter confusion. The regiments became so scattered and mixed that all efforts to reform them became fruitless."[14]

[Footnote 14: Colonel Moore's Report.]

Chalmers's brigade was on the extreme right. What was left of Jackson's came next. Breckenridge, with his shattered brigades, was behind Chalmers. Trabue, commanding a brigade of Kentuckians, was comparatively fresh. Withers's, Cheatham's, and Ruggles's divisions were at the head of the ravine. Gibson, who had been almost annihilated, was there.

Stewart, Anderson, Stephens, and Pond were on the ground from which Wallace had been driven. As the brigades filed past Beauregard, he said to them, "Forward, boys, and drive them into the Tennessee."[15]

[Footnote 15: Ruggles's Report.]

The Rebel cannon open. A sulphurous cloud borders the bank. The wild uproar begins again. Opposite, another cloud rolls upward. There are weird shriekings across the chasm, fierce howlings from things unseen.

Great oaks are torn asunder, broken, shattered, splintered. Cannon are overturned by invisible bolts. There are explosions in the earth and in the air. Men, horses, wagons, are lifted up, thrown down, torn to pieces, dashed against the trees. Commands are cut short; for while the words are on the lips the tongue ceases to articulate, the muscles relax, and the heart stops its beating,--all the springs of life broken in an instant.

Wilder, deeper, louder the uproar. Great sh.e.l.ls from the gunboats fly up the ravine. The gunners aim at the cloud along the southern bank. They rake the Rebel lines, while the artillery ma.s.sed in front cuts them through and through.

Bragg orders an advance. The brigades enter the ravine, sheltered in front by the tall trees above and the tangled undergrowth beneath. They push towards the northern slope.

"Grape and canister now!"

"Give them double charges!"

"Lower your guns!"

"Quick! Fire!"

The words run along the line. Moments are ages now. Seconds are years.

How fast men live when everything is at stake! Ah! but how fast they die down in that ravine! Up, down, across, through, over it, drive the withering blasts, cutting, tearing, sweeping through the column, which shakes, wavers, totters, crumbles, disappears.

General Chalmers says: "We received orders from General Bragg to drive the enemy into the river. My brigade, together with General Jackson's brigade, filed to the right, formed facing the river, and endeavored to press forward to the water's edge; but in attempting to mount the last ridge, we were met by a fire from a whole line of batteries, protected by infantry and a.s.sisted by sh.e.l.ls from the gunboats. Our men struggled vainly to ascend the hill, which was very steep, making charge after charge without success; but continued the fight till night closed hostilities."[16]

[Footnote 16: Chalmers's Report.]

Says Colonel f.a.gan, of the First Arkansas, of Gibson's brigade:--

"Three different times did we go into that 'Valley of Death,' and as often were forced back by overwhelming numbers, intrenched in a strong position. That all was done that could possibly be done, the heaps of killed and wounded left there give ample evidence."[17]

[Footnote 17: Colonel f.a.gan's Report.]

Colonel Allen, of the Fourth Louisiana, says:--

"A murderous fire was poured into us from the masked batteries of grape and canister, and also from the rifle-pits. The regiment retired, formed again, and again charged. There fell many of my bravest and best men, in the thick brushwood, without ever seeing the enemy."[18]

[Footnote 18: Colonel Allen's Report.]

It is sunset. The day has gone. It has been a wild, fierce, disastrous conflict. Beauregard has pushed steadily on towards the Landing. He is within musket-shot of the steamers, of the prize he so much covets. He has possession of all but one of the division camps. He can keep his promise made to his soldiers; they can sleep in the camps of the Union army. This is his first serious check. He has lost many men. His commander-in-chief is killed, but he is confident he can finish in the morning the work which has gone on so auspiciously, for Buell has not arrived.

He has done a good day's work. His men have fought well, but they are exhausted. Tomorrow morning he will finish General Grant. Thus he reasons.[19]

[Footnote 19: Beauregard's Report.]

General Grant was right in his calculations. The Rebels have been checked at last. At sunset they who stand upon the hill by the Landing discover on the opposite bank men running up the road, panting for breath. Above them waves the Stars and Stripes. There is a buzz, a commotion, among the thousands by the river-side.

"It is Buell's advance!"

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!"

The shouts ring through the forest. The wounded lift their weary heads, behold the advancing line, and weep tears of joy. The steamers cast off their fastenings. The great wheels plash the gurgling water. They move to the other side. The panting soldiers of the army of the Ohio rush on board. The steamer settles to the guards with her precious cargo of human life; recrosses the river in safety. The line of blue winds up the bank. It is Nelson's division. McCook's and Crittenden's divisions are at Savannah. Lewis Wallace's division from Crump's Landing is filing in upon the right, in front of Sherman and McClernand. There will be four fresh divisions on Monday morning. The army is safe. Buell will not be pushed back to the Ohio. Recognition will not come from France and England in consequence of the great Rebel victory at Shiloh.

Through the night the sh.e.l.ls from the gunboats crashed along the Rebel lines. So destructive was the fire, that Beauregard was obliged to fall back from the position he had won by such a sacrifice of life. There was activity at the Landing. The steamers went to Savannah, took on board McCook's and Crittenden's divisions of Buell's army, and transported them to Pittsburg. Few words were spoken as they marched up the hill in the darkness, with the thousands of wounded on either hand, but there were many silent thanksgivings that they had come. The wearied soldiers lay down in battle line to broken sleep, with their loaded guns beside them. The sentinels stood, like statues, in silence on the borders of that valley of death, watching and waiting for the morning.

The battle-cloud hung like a pall above the forest. The gloom and darkness deepened. The stars, which had looked calmly down from the depths of heaven, withdrew from the scene. A horrible scene! for the exploding sh.e.l.ls had set the forest on fire. The flames consumed the withered leaves and twigs of the thickets, and crept up to the helpless wounded, to friend and foe alike. There was no hand but G.o.d's to save them. He heard their cries and groans. The rain came, extinguishing the flames. It drenched the men in arms, waiting for daybreak to come to renew the strife, but there were hundreds of wounded, parched with fever, restless with pain, who thanked G.o.d for the rain.