Near Griswoldville, November 22, 1864.
Has been a gay day
for our brigade. The other two brigades of our division went to work on the
railroad this morning, and we on a reconnoisance toward Macon. Found Rebel
cavalry at once. My Companies A and B, were thrown out as skirmishers. Forty of
us drove at least 400 Rebel cavalry at least four miles, and kept them a mile
ahead of the brigade. I think we killed and wounded at least 20 of them. We
finally charged them out of a rail barricade and thoroughly stampeded them. It
was the richest thing I ever saw. We got highly complimented on the way we
drove them. Griswoldville was the point we started for, and having reached it
we lay there an hour or so, and were then ordered back to the brigade. We found
it in line along an open field, building a rail barricade along the front. We
had a nice open field without even a fence on it, full 600 yards wide in our
front. We were getting dinner, not dreaming of a fight, when lively musketry
opened on the picket line, and in a minute more our pickets came in flying. A
fine line of Johnnies pushed out of the woods after them, and then started for
us. We commenced throwing up logs in our front and did not fire a shot until
they were within 250 yards of us, by which time our works would protect us from
musketry. We all felt that we had a sure thing, and had there been but one line
of Rebels, we would have let them come up close to us. But, by the time the
first line had got within 250 yards of us, three other lines had emerged from
the woods, and they had run two batteries out on the field further to our right
which opened on us. Our artillery returned the fire, but was silenced almost
immediately. We then let loose on them with our muskets, and if we did not
interest them, it is queer. One after another their lines crumbled to pieces,
and they took the run to save themselves. There was a ravine 50 yards in front
of us, and as the Rebels did not dare to run back over that field, they broke
for the ravine. It was awful the way we slaughtered those men. Once in the
ravine most of them escaped by following it up, the willows and canes screening
them. We let a skirmish line into the ravine, which gobbled some 50 prisoners,
a number of Africans among them. It was a most complete repulse, and when the
numbers alone are considered, a glorious thing for us. Only our little brigade
of say 1,100 muskets were engaged on our side and no support was nearer than
four miles (and then but one brigade), while the Rebels had four brigades and
two regiments, about 6,000 men. But the four brigades were “Militia.” We
estimate their loss at 1,000, and I do not think it an overestimate. Ours is 14
killed and 42 wounded in the whole brigade; four killed and seven wounded in
the regiment; two in my company; 25 out of 30 Rebel bullets went 20 feet over
our heads. Not one of ours went higher than their heads. Gen. C. C. Wolcutt [sic] was wounded much as Colonel Wright
was, but more severely. No officers in our regiment were wounded. Two Rebel
generals were either killed or wounded—General George, who formerly commanded
in north Mississippi, and General Hall or Call. I was never so affected at the
sight of wounded and dead before.
Old grey-haired and
weakly-looking men and little boys, not over 15 years old, lay dead or writhing
in pain. I did pity those boys, they almost all who could talk, said the Rebel
cavalry gathered them up and forced them in.
We took all inside
our skirmish line that could bear moving, to our hospital, and covered the rest
with the blankets of the dead. I hope we will never have to shoot at such men
again. They knew nothing at all about fighting, and I think their officers knew
as little, or else, certainly knew nothing about our being there. About dark we
moved back to this place, two miles from the battle field. The Johnnies drew off
before we did, I think.
SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army
Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 322-4
