Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, January 14, 1863

Headquarters Second Brigade,
Second Division, Fifteenth Army Corps,
January 14, 1863.

My Dear Wife:

You have heard of our last battle, and this will give you the assurance of my safety. My brigade behaved splendidly. I had ninety-three officers and men killed and wounded; among them, Captain Yeoman, senior captain and in command of my old 54th, had his right arm shattered, since amputated. The 54th has lost pretty heavily in both the last engagements. She's a gallant little regiment, the men true as steel. Indeed, my command is most emphatically a fighting brigade. The day was beautiful after we had got fairly on the ground, and the spectacle was splendidly imposing as my forces made the charge. You must understand, that this post, heretofore called “Post Arkansas,” but christened by the rebels “Fort Hyndman,” is situated upon the Arkansas River about sixty miles above the mouth. The country about where the Arkansas empties into the Mississippi is flat and intersected with bayous and cutoffs; one of these leads into White River, and our fleet having rendezvoused at the mouth of White River, we sailed up that stream to one of these cutoffs, and through that to the Arkansas and up the Arkansas to a point three miles below the fort. Here we threw troops across the river to intercept reinforcements to the enemy, but the main army debarked on the side on which the fort is situated, and immediately commenced the line of march; directly as we were en route, the enemy began to throw their shell among us, which were returned by our gunboats, while the infantry steadily pursued their way. About a mile from the point of debarkation, we came upon their rifle-pits from which they had recently fled, and where we found their fires still burning and cornbread still warm. The term rifle-pit means a long ditch or trench, sometimes extending for many miles, with a barricade of logs or rails or sometimes willows or canes, to hold the earth in position, which ought to be in embankment at least four feet broad at the top. Behind this embankment, troops stand sheltered and in line firing at advancing forces. I make this explanation because many suppose rifle-pits to be holes in the ground.

Well as we advanced, the enemy abandoned their defences and after some slight skirmishing, retreated to the fort, from which was now commenced terrific cannonading. A little before sundown, other troops having marched around to the other side, and rear of the fort, it became my duty to advance my brigade to a point immediately in front of one of their batteries, and having put the troops in line of battle, I was ordered to advance them and draw the enemy's fire; this I did with such effect as to cost me fourteen men, among whom was Captain Yeoman. Under their fire we lay until nightfall, and indeed all night. The next morning, at the break of day, we were ordered to the right and to a point nearly in front of their main fortifications, and here we lay again, under shell, until one o'clock, when I was ordered to storm the works; I wish I could fully explain to you the position of the ground, and must make some faint attempt at it, so you can appreciate the movements of my troops. The original fort is an hundred years old, and was erected as a defence against the Indians; considered one of the strongest forts in the U. S. Being upon a bluff it was supposed to command the bend of the river with three immense cannon, throwing respectively 110-, 100-, and 85-pound shot and shell; besides these, were fifteen pivot guns, having range at any given point. These are in the fort itself, a most scientifically constructed work, capable of holding, crowded, fifteen hundred men. From one side of this fort, and running westwardly, was a line of breastwork extending to the river-side somewhat thus:



Now you will imagine my forces lying in the woods to the eastward, say half a mile, at the time of my receiving the order to storm, and you will imagine all of this ground north of the fort and breastworks, a beautiful level plain, a little ascending to the fort and spacious enough to admit of three regiments in line, and the day to be as bright and beautiful as ever gladdened the heart of man, and then imagine, if you can, my brigade deploying from the woods just in the rear of General Sherman, and firing exactly as you see in the diagram, with ten brave banners fluttering in the breeze and gilded by the sun. Recollect, each regiment has a banner and a regimental flag, such a banner as you saw for the 54th, and the U. S. flag, the stars and stripes. As a military display, I never saw it equalled. The troops were formed under a perfect hurricane of shot and shell, the breastworks and rifle-pits were lined thick with the enemy. We formed, advanced, and the official reports will give you the rest. Their white flag went up, and I leaped, or got my horse over somehow or other. I don't know exactly how, for it was a wicked-looking place when I surveyed it the next morning, and by order of the commanding general caused four thousand men, prisoners of war, to ground arms by my order. I marshalled them behind the breastworks, while my troops stood on the ramparts. The enemy fought most gallantly, with a most unparalleled obstinacy. The ground inside the fortif1cations was piled with corpses and strewn thick with mangled limbs. The fort was torn all to pieces. The muzzle of the 110-pound gun was shot off. A shell of ours must have entered the very muzzle. These descriptions you will get from the professional writers, and in this instance all their word painting will hardly be an exaggeration of the truth.

I have reason to thank God; for a little while this, to me, was the hardest-fought battle I have been in, and the whistle of bullets and shrieking of shells are sounds familiar in my ears as household words. This, however, is my first real action at the point of the bayonet and the muzzle of the gun. The feeling is very thrilling; nobody but the victor on the battlefield can appreciate the very madness of joy. I made speeches to my new regiments; the enthusiasm was tremendous. My old veterans are seasoned and take things quietly, but my 83d Indiana and 127th Illinois were carried up to the seventh heaven.

I suppose it is small and mean, but there is a flattery, an adulation, a praise coming from the mouths of these soldiers that is very dear to me, and not from them alone. I must confess I want it from my country.

“If we are marked to die, we are enough
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men the greater share of honor.
God’s will! I pray thee wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It grieves me not if men my garments wear.
Such outward things dwell not in my desires;
But if it be a sin to covet honor,
I am the most offending soul alive.”

I must hope for justice to my name, for my dear children's sake. If it is tardy in coming, or wholly withheld, I still have a satisfaction in the possession of the affection of these troops. Ohio in all her counties is well represented. Illinois and Indiana fairly. Many a family throughout a vast breadth will learn who led their brother, or husband, or son, at Chickasas [sic], and Vicksburg, or Post Arkansas.

The conduct of my command was under the immediate eye of the generals. My own official report is therefore very brief. I would amplify more to you now if I did not suppose I should be duplicating what you will probably have read in the newspapers, before this letter comes to hand.
The incidents of our life, thrilling enough in the start, soon become an old story; at least, we think nothing of them and suppose they have lost interest to our friends. I might tell how, leaving the boat in the expectation of an immediate fight, and, therefore, taking nothing with me in the way of nourishment or extra clothing, I stood by the head of, or sat on, my horse all the night long, the first night out, the shells coursing their fiery flight through the darkness and bursting over my head; how eagerly I watched for the streaks of dawn ; how all the day I fainted for a drop of water ; how the wounded and the dead lay all around me; of the captures I made in the way of prisoners and horses (individually, I mean), of the ludicrous scenes in the field — for strange as it may seem to you, there is always something to laugh at even on the battlefield — but this has been told over and over again; I cannot paint pain and anguish, and disappointment and dismay and death. They must be seen as I have seen them to be understood; they can never be described.

We occupied the fort for two days and then re-embarked, and, after a little, shall sail down the Arkansas to the mouth, where we expect to rendezvous with other troops from Grant's army. From thence, I suppose, to Vicksburg, to try them again with a much larger force. There’ll be many a bloody fight before Vicksburg surrenders, in my judgment; her natural position is immensely strong, and she is thoroughly fortified, well provisioned, and well manned. We have vague news from Rosecrans; nothing, however, reliable; if one half of what we hear be true, and his success as great as represented, that, joined to our late victory here, may have a demoralizing effect upon the Southern army, and cause them to capitulate at Vicksburg. Many of the soldiers we found here claimed that their time was up, and that they would have left in a few days. However that may be, one thing is certain, they will dispute every inch of ground as long as there is a man among them capable of bearing arms. It’s no rebellion, it’s revolution, and a more united people you never heard of or read of. Recollect what I used to say before the first gun in this war was fired, and for many months afterwards, how I used to talk to my friends, when they would prate about the South and its resources — a matter of which they had not the slightest conception. I propose to fight the fight out, at least as long as I have a right hand to draw the sabre.

I notice in reading my letter over, that I have not explained there were two sets of works or rifle-pits, the first about a mile and a half beyond the line of fortifications. I mean the outside lines, and the first we encountered. They were on the north and east.

The four thousand prisoners surrendered to me, of whom I speak, were only a portion of those within the fortifications; the residue being inside the fort and at other points. We took seven thousand prisoners and eight thousand stand of arms.

I speak of the representation in my brigade. I suppose there is scarcely a county in Ohio from which some men have not been recruited for the old 54th; the 57th is made up from the Hooppole region and the northwest. The 55th and 127th Illinois were both picked regiments, and came from all over the State. The 83d Indiana was recruited near Lawrenceburg and the tier of counties bordering Ohio. So you see I have gone over good space for infantry. My batteries are from Chicago and my cavalry from Illinois.

My boat is under way; she, of course, is the flagship of my fleet of six. It used to be quite a thing when I was a boy to command a steamboat. I have the sublime honor of commanding six, some of them very heavy, fine boats. Just before leaving, I went to pay my wounded a visit. Poor fellows, I found them in all stages of suffering, but all cheery, game to the last. My poor Captain Yeoman sat holding up his poor stump of an arm. I could hardly keep the tears back. The boat was crowded and they were bringing stretchers in all the time I was there. I hope the poor fellows will get good attention when they arrive at home. The Sanitary Commissioners have done nothing for us. The living for the wounded and the weak is the hardest that can be imagined — no wine, no brandy, no nourishing food. The fresh beef from starved sick cattle that have been brought upon the steamboat, the bacon, potatoes, bad; nothing fit to eat but beans, and I’ve lived on beans till I loathe the sight of them. What our poor wounded are to do, God only knows. I gave them all the money I had, and all I could borrow, but a good many of them will see hell before they die.

As I write, the weather, which was beautiful and warm, changes to rain and then cold, and now as we sail down the river, we are in a violent snowstorm. The river is wide, and winding, and beautiful, lined with the canebrake and cotton tree and now and then a fine plantation. The water is not fit to drink, being impregnated with soda and salts, that causes it to operate badly. Population is sparse upon its banks so far as we have gone.

I received two copies of your little poem, and wish you would send me some more. It was very much admired. I showed it to Stuart one day in the field before Vicksburg. We were waiting breakfast early in the morning. He insisted on reading it through, and cried like a baby as he read it. You must send me some more copies.

We are nearing the mouth of the river and soon shall be again on the broad Mississippi.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 258-64

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