About sundown
the shelling ceased, and nearly all of us returned to camp to endeavor to
sleep, as we had been up all the night preceding unloading a corn boat. We had
all got comfortably settled for the enjoyment of that sweet restorer of tired
nature, when the whole fleet of mortar boats, ships-of-the-line, and I do not
know how many gun-boats, turned loose their storm of iron hail into our midst
without giving any warning. The effect on soldiers suddenly aroused from sleep
can be imagined. We sprang to our feet, and hardly taking time to draw on our
coats, took to our heels in search of shelter. Indeed it was enough to make the
stoutest heart quake to hear the shells hurtling over our heads and the
fragments crashing through the timber or ploughing up the earth at our feet. I
started to the trenches to get with my company, which had been left on picket,
but as I had to go through the thickest of the fire to get there, I backed out
after going several hundred yards, and made for the shelter of a large tree in
a swamp near by; but found five men crouched down behind it; tried another with
a like result, and another and another, and found all "full;"
concluded that the front seats were all taken or reserved for the officers. Saw
a wagoner driving his team through the thickest of the shells and observed that
the mules took it quite easy; concluded that a soldier was as good as a mule
and emulating their unconcern, I made for the river bank, where I got a good
position high and dry, and watched closely the progress of the fight. I enjoyed
the grandeur of the scene to the fullest extent.
Simultaneously
with the opening of the mortar boats, the men-of-war and gun-boats attempted to
run past our batteries, which one of them, a large steamship, succeeded in
doing notwithstanding the terrible fire which was poured into her. It is said
that she would have surrendered if our men had ceased firing upon her. Two
others attempted to follow in her wake, but one of them was forced to retire
badly crippled, and the other was set on fire by a hot shot from one of our
guns, when her crew abandoned her, and she burned to the water's edge. She
drifted down with the current, and a tremendous explosion a few hours later
told that she had blown up. Others of their craft are supposed to have suffered
considerably. After a hot engagement of two hours and a half, the firing ceased
and the enemy withdrew. Our loss in the whole bombardment, is, so far as I can
learn, five killed and wounded, while the enemy's loss must have amounted to
hundreds, as nearly every shot from our guns took effect. From some of the crew
of the burnt vessel who were picked up this morning, we learn that nearly all
of her men, over three hundred in number, were either killed, burnt or drowned;
only a few swam to the shore. Our batteries sustained no damage whatever. Taken
altogether we came off well, and if they are not satisfied that they can't take
this place, let them come again. The vessel which passed last night was lying
in plain view this morning, and firing signal-guns as though she would like to
get back to her consorts below, which are also in view today.
The train from
Clinton, La., came in this morning at an unusual hour, bringing the sick from
the hospital, and reported that the Federal cavalry were near that place in
strong force. If this is true, and we can't get the Yankee ship from above, our
supplies are cut off, as we have but limited stores of subsistence here. So that
if the siege is prolonged for some time, we may expect to undergo all the pangs
of hunger; we are now, and have been for weeks, living on half rations of meal
and pork. We now calculate on living on half an ear of corn per man, before
this place is given up. To-day we have been allowed to live in peace up to the
present hour, 2 P.M. We are cooking rations, expecting to be sent to the
ditches again to-night.
SOURCE: Edwin
L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western
History, Vol. 1, p. 125-7
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