Showing posts with label Morgan L Smith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morgan L Smith. Show all posts

Monday, January 27, 2020

Captain Charles Wright Wills: August 31, 1864

Near Jonesboro, August 31, 1864.

We were afraid we would have no battle this month, but our fears were disappointed in a very summary manner this p. m. Hardee, in command of his own and Hood's old corps, attacked the Army of the Tennessee again, the weight of the assault being on our corps. The second division, M. L. Smith's, had the hardest of the fighting. The position our regiment held was unluckily too strong. They did not dare attack us. But we had a splendid view of the fight, both on our right and left.

Six Johnnie lines of battle debouched from the woods on our left, and swept right across our front on open ground, within long musket range, say 600 or 700 yards. This was 2:30 p. m. They were coming over to attack the 16th Corps. A five-gun battery on the right of our regiment and two guns on our left opened on them with spherical case, and threw some canister. They had hardly fired two shots when a Rebel 10-pound Parrott opened on them in front, and a Napoleon battery on our left flank. The Rebels shot admirably and you may imagine our regiment was in a pretty warm position, though our works and traverses made the danger but little.

In ten minutes from the time we first saw the Rebels they struck the 16th Corps, and after a right heavy fight of near an hour they came back flying. Our boys, though not near enough to do much effective shooting, put in 40 or 50 rounds apiece, just to keep our hands in. About the same time they struck Morgan L. they struck our first brigade and the left of our brigade. Our division repulsed them easily and Morgan L. slaughtered them awfully, but he had a hard fight. They charged up close to the left of our regiment, but owing to the direction of our lines not where we could fight them. Our brigade took one colonel, one major, three captains, one lieutenant and 30 men prisoners. The 2d division took several hundred. I can't guess what their loss is, though it is not as heavy as on the 22d or 28th of July, for they did not fight nearly as well. Besides losing a host of men in this campaign, the Rebel Army has lost a large meaure of vim, which counts a good deal in soldiering. Our loss in this fight is comparatively nothing. Say 30 men in our brigade; we have four or five scratched in our regiment, but only one much hurt. A spent 12-pound solid shot rolled on him. Kilpatrick started for the railroad south this morning. He has had a big fight with Cleyburn's division, but don't know much about it. During our fight to-day Schofield and Stanley, 23d and 4th, took the railroad and are destroying it. Hood, with Polk's old corps, are above him and cut off from Hardee.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 294-5

Friday, December 20, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 29, 1864


One and three-quarter miles southwest of Atlanta,
July 29, 1864.

On the evening of the 26th, Adj. Frank Lermond sent me word that the Army of the Tennessee was going to evacuate its position, the movement to commence at 12 p. m. When the lines are so close together the skirmish line is a ticklish place.

The parties can tell by hearing artillery move, etc., nearly what is going on, and in evacuation generally make a dash for the skirmish line or rear guard. At nearly every position Johnston has fortified we caught his skirmish line when he evacuated. Luckily our line got off about 4 a. m. on the 27th though they shelled us right lively.

That day our three corps moved along in the rear of the 23d, 4th, 14th and 20th, the intention being, I think, to extend the line to the right, if possible, to the Montgomery and Atlanta railroad and thus destroy another line of communication. We have thoroughly destroyed 50 miles of the Augusta and Atlanta railroad. The 16th Corps formed its line on the right of the 14th, and the 17th joined on the 16th, and on the morning of the 28th, we moved out to extend the line still further. At 12 m. we had just got into position and thrown a few rails along our line, when Hood's Rebel corps came down on Morgan L's and our divisions like an avalanche. Our two divisions did about all the fighting, and it lasted until 5 p. m.

We whipped them awfully. Their dead they left almost in line of battle along our entire front of two divisions.

It was the toughest fight of the campaign, but not a foot of our line gave way, and our loss is not one-twentieth of theirs. The rails saved us. I am tired of seeing such butchery but if they will charge us that way once a day for a week, this corps will end the war in this section.

Our loss in the regiment was 17 out of 150 we had in the fight, and the brigade loss will not exceed 100. I never saw so many Rebels dead. We are in excellent spirits, and propose to take Atlanta whenever Sherman wants it.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 286-7

Captain Charles Wright Wills: August 1, 1864

August 1, 1864.

Since the glorious battle of the 28th, everything has been quiet in our immediate front, though the heavy artillery firing continues to the left. I think it is between the 14th and 20th Corps and some Rebel forts. Prisoners say that our shells have hurt the city very much. We all think that the last battle is by far the most brilliant of the campaign. Our officials' reports show that we buried 1,000 Rebels in front of our and M. L. Smith's divisions.

In fact, our two divisions and two regiments of Osterhaus' did all the fighting. Our total loss was less than 550, the Rebels 8,000. In the last 12 days they must have lost 25,000 men. Our loss in the same time will not reach 4,500. There is no shadow of gas in this, as you would know if you could see an unsuccessful charge on works.

The enemy is reported as moving to our right in heavy force.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 287

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 17, 1864

June 17, 1864.

After erecting some good works at Roswell (the best we have yet built), capable of holding at least 25,000 men, we were provided with three days’ rations and cartridges “ad libitum,” for another of what an Augusta paper calls “Sherman leap-frog-like advance.” Our corps is the extreme left of the army. We moved out this morning, our brigade in advance of our division, and Osterhaus and Smith's Divisions following on the Decatur road. Did I tell you in my last among the “locals,” that these Roswell factories have been turning out 35,000 yards per day of jeans, etc., for the Confederate Army, that there is the greatest abundance of blackberries and whortleberries here, that one of the 48th Illinois was drowned in the Chattahoochie while bathing, and that of several hundred factory girls I have seen, hardly one who is passably handsome? Some fine fat ones, and a few neat feet, but they are not “clipper built,” and lack “get up” and “figure heads.”

We moved six miles without meeting a Rebel, and then only a squadron of cavalry that lacked a devilish sight of being “chivalry,” for they more than ran without just cause. We only went two miles farther and then bivouacked. Our brigade was thrown half a mile in front and across the road. We put up a rail barricade across the road and a temporary rail-work along our front, and then abandoned ourselves to the longings of our breadbaskets, and desisted not until every man was in himself a miniature blackberry patch. The boys brought me pint after pint of great black fellows they had picked in the shade of dense woods or on a steep bank, and I assure you they disappeared without an exception. This road, the last 10 days, has been filled with refugee citizens running from the Yankees. An old gentleman in whose yard the reserve pickets have stacked their arms, told me that all the men of his acquaintance over 45 years old are, and always have been, Unionists, and are to-day ready and willing to give up slavery for our cause. I have been a deluded believer in the hoax of fine “Georgia plantations,” but I assure you I am now thoroughly convalescent. I haven't seen five farm houses equal to Mrs. James ———, and only one that showed evidences of taste. That was where I saw the Rebel General Iverson dead among the flowers. The country is all hilly, and the soil, where there is any, is only fit for turnips. The timber is all scrub oak and pine, and some more viney bushes peculiar to the climate.

I notice some of the white moss hanging from the trees, like that there was so much of at Black river. The 16th Corps is on our right moving on a parallel road, and the 23d joins them. I don't know whether our other corps have crossed yet or not.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 280-1

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 5, 1864

July 5, 1864.

Can hear no firing this p. m. It seems the Rebels have got across the Chattahoochie. We are about 12 miles from Atlanta. The river will probably trouble us some, but we all think “Pap” will make it before August 1st. Johnston don't dare give us anything like a fair fight. We are all in splendid spirits and the boys have made the woods ring with their Fourth of July cheers, tired as they are. We have lost no men since the charge of the 27th. I have an Atlanta paper, giving an acount of that fight. They say we were all drunk with whisky and fought more like devils than men.

p. m. We have continued our march about four or five miles today. Osterhaus and M. L. Smith are ahead of us, and I think we are on the right of the army again. The 4th Division, 17th Army Corps is engaged one-half mile ahead of us or rather are shooting a little with their big guns. I climbed a tree a half hour ago, and what do you think? — saw Atlanta, and saw it plainly, too. I suppose it is ten miles distant, not more than 12. The country looks about as level as a floor, excepting one-half mountain, to the left of the city, some miles. We seem to be on the last ridge that amounts to anything. We are, I suppose, two and one-half miles from the river at this point, though we hold it farther to the right. Very large columns of smoke were rolling up from different parts of the city. I suppose they were the explosions of foundries, machine shops, etc. Dense clouds of dust can be seen at several points across the river; suppose it means trains or troops moving.

Have seen but few wounded going back to-day. We are laying along some very good rifle pits, occasionally embrasured for artillery, which the 17th Army Corps took this morning. They were not very stoutly defended, though, and the artillery had been moved back. With some pretty lively skirmishing the line has been advanced this evening. Not much loss on our side; saw some one-half dozen ambulance loads only.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 273-4

Monday, April 22, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 28, 1864

June 28, 1864.

The attack was not general; it was made by our brigade and M. L. Smith's Division. We lost nearly one-third of the brigade. Our regiment's loss is 17 killed and 40 wounded. My company had five killed and four wounded. Colonel Wright was shot quite badly in the leg, and Lieutenants Montgomery, Branson and Bailey were killed. In my company Corporals Whittaker, Myers, and Private Sam Mclntyre, Art. Myers, and Jacob Maxwell, were killed Sergeant Breed, Privates Bishop, Frank Breed and James Williamson were wounded. We held all the ground we took (under our fire), but had to leave a few of our dead until dark.

On the p. m. of the 26th Colonel Wright told me that General McPherson and Colonel Walcutt (our brigade commander) had been out through the day examining the ground in front, and that it was in contemplation to carry the southwest spur of the mountain by a charge, and further, that it was not impossible that our brigade would be in as usual. This was kept quiet in the command. About 8 p. m. I was at Colonel Wright's headquarters with several of the officers and we were talking the matter over, when an order came for the colonel to report at brigade headquarters. I believe every one present instantly concluded that we were to fight, and knowing the country before us to be about on a par with Lookout Mountain you can imagine we did not particularly enjoy the prospect. The colonel returned in about an hour. We had all, I believe, fallen asleep. He woke us and said: “Have your men get their breakfasts by daylight; at 6 a. m. the fight will begin on the right, and at 8 a. m. our brigade will, with one from the 1st and 2d divisions, charge a spur of the mountain.” I turned away and after notifying my orderly sergeant to have the men up on time, I turned in. Thought the matter over a little while and after pretty fully concluding “good-bye, vain world,” went to sleep. Before daylight in the morning we were in line, and moving a few hundred yards to the rear of our works, and stacked arms in a grove, which would hide us from the observation of the Rebels on the mountain. You know from where we have been for a few days, we could see them plainly. Cannonading commenced on the right at 6 a. m. and at 7:30 we moved a half or three quarters of a mile along-our lines to the right, after piling our knapsacks and haversacks. A canteen of water was the only extra baggage any one carried. The Rebels caught sight of us as we commenced moving, and opened a battery on us It had the effect to accelerate our movements considerably. Right in front of a Division of the 4th Corps we halted, and rapidly formed our line. While forming the line Corporal Myers of my company was killed by a bullet within six feet of me, and one of Company K's men wounded. I don't know how many more. The ground to be gone over was covered with a dense undergrowth of oak and vines of all kinds binding the dead and live timber and bush together, and making an almost impenetrable abatis. To keep a line in such a place was out of the question. Our skirmishers were sharply engaged from the start, and men commenced falling in the main line; at the same time some 50 of the Rebel skirmish line were captured, and many of them killed. A Rebel lieutenant and five men lay dead, all nearly touching each other.

I understand that they had been summoned to surrender, and were shot either for refusing or before negotiations were completed. Not a man in our regiment knew where the Rebel works were when we started, and I think the most of them found them as I did. I had with my company got within, I think, 60 yards of the Rebel works, and was moving parallel with them. The balls were whistling thick around us, but I could see no enemy ahead.

I did not even think of them being on our flank, until one of the boys said: “Look there, Captain, may I shoot?” I looked to the right, and just across a narrow and deep ravine were the Rebel works, while a confused mass of greybacks were crowding up the ravine. These latter, I suppose, were from their skirmish line, which was very heavy, and trying to escape us. The Rebels in the works were firing vigorously and have no excuse for not annihilating our three left companies K, G and B. The right of the regiment had seen them before and already started for them. I shouted “forward” to my men and we ran down across the ravine, and about one-third the way up the hill on which their works were and then lay down. There was little protection from their fire, though, and if they had done their duty, not a man of us would have got out alive. Our men fired rapidly and kept them well down in their works. It would have been madness to have attempted carrying their works then, for our regiment had not a particle of support, and we were so scattered that we only presented the appearance of a very thin skirmish line. If we had been supported by only one line, I have no doubt but that we would have taken their line of works. Colonel Wright was wounded a few minutes after we got into the hollow, and Frank Lermond came to me and told me I would have to take command of the regiment. I went down to the center and the order was heard to retire. I communicated it to the left and saw nearly all the men out, and then fell back.

I could not find the regiment when I came out, but collected about 30 of our men on the left of the 6th Iowa, and after a while Colonel Wright and Captain Post brought the regiment to where we were, when we formed a brigade line and threw up works within 200 yards of the enemy's, where we remained until 9 p. m., when we returned to the position we occupied in the morning. About 12 of our dead were left in the ravine under the fire of the enemy's guns. But we have as many of their dead as they have of ours. Lieutenant Colonel Barnhill of the 40th Illinois, and Captain Augustine of the 55th Illinois were killed and left on the field. My loss is five killed and four wounded. Two of my dead, Corporal Whittaker and Artemus Myers, were left on the field. Loss in the regiment is 17 killed, 40 wounded. In the brigade 245 killed and wounded. It was a rough affair, but we were not whipped. The prettiest artillery fight I ever saw was over our heads in the evening, about 10 guns on each side.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 268-71

Friday, March 22, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 22, 1864

June 22, 1864.

Our Adjutant Wagstaff is out of the service and the recommendation for Frank Lermond to receive the appointment has gone on to Governor Yates. Frank is well worthy of the place and has earned it. We flatter ourselves that no regiment has less skulkers than ours in battle, and we have through the corps, a name that Fulton need not fear will disgrace her. We have all day been ready at a moment's notice to support the 4th Corps. Saw Chandler yesterday. He is on M. L. Smith's staff. I wish a little party of Cantonians could be here to-night to see the artillery firing. Our view of the Rebel guns is excellent. With glasses we can see them load. The artillerists say our field glasses are not so good. Many are prophesying that the Johnnies will vamoose during the “stilly night.” Much as I want to, can't see it. Looks like too good a thing.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 266-7

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

Captain Charles Wright Wills: May 18, 1864

May 18, 1864.

Our division has had the advance to-day, but no infantry fighting. At noon we get into Adairsville and meet the 4th Army Corps. Saw Generals Howard, Thomas, Sickles and a hundred others. We are camped five miles southwest of town and by the prettiest place I ever saw. The house is excellent, the grounds excel in beauty anything I ever imagined. The occupants have run away. Our cavalry had a sharp fight here this p. m., and on one of the gravel walks in the beautiful garden lies a Rebel colonel, shot in five places. He must have been a noble looking man; looks 50 years old, and has a fine form and features. Think his name is Irwin. I think there must be a hundred varieties of the rose in bloom here and the most splendid specimens of cactus. I do wish you could see it. At Adairsville, night before last, we lost 400 killed and wounded in a skirmish.

Nine a. m. — Rapid artillery firing on our left front. We are waiting for Osterhaus and Morgan L. Smith to get out of the way. Our division has the rear to-day. Our cars got into Adairsville yesterday evening and the last Rebel train left in the morning. Firing on the left very heavy.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 243-4

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Captain Charles Wright Wills: May 3, 1864

Twelve miles east of Bridgeport, May 3, 1864.

Have made about 15 miles to-day. This is the fourth time I have been over the same ground, have ridden over it five times. This is the first time I ever started on a march where real judgment was used in breaking the men in. We always before made from 15 to 25 miles the first day and broke down about one-fourth of our men. This time you see, our first two day's marches were short and the 15 miles to-day seemed to affect no one. I hear from good authority here that Thomas is in Dalton, after some heavy skirmishing. Everything is moving to the front here. A portion of the 12th, or 20th Corps now, is just ahead of us. Morgan L. Smith and Osterhaus are just behind us, but Logan will not be along until relieved by some other troops.

I expect Dodge, with some 6,000 of the 16th Army Corps, is behind us. The 17th Army Corps was coming into Huntsville as we left.

Camp is in an orchard, and apples are as large as hazel nuts and we make sauce of them.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 233

Monday, May 21, 2018

Captain Charles Wright Wills: April 24, 1864

Scottsboro, Ala., April 24, 1864.

Spring is here at last, and summer is almost in sight. The last two days have been fully as warm as I care to see weather in April. There has been a great deal of cold, wet weather here this spring, and vegetable life is unusually backward; but the last few days have effected a great change in the forests. The north side of the mountains still look bare and wintry, the soft maple being the only tree I have noticed “in leaf” on those slopes; but nearly all of the trees and bushes on the southern mountain slopes are in full leaf. In the valleys, the poplars, the beeches, and the black gums are nearly in full spring dress, being far in advance of their comrades — the oaks, chestnuts, hickories and white gum. Of the smaller trees the dogwood leads in assuming a spring costume. Two years ago this date, vegetation was further advanced at the mouth of the Ohio than 'tis here now. Do you remember, I arrived home just about two years ago this time; stayed two and one half days, and then, for Corinth? How easily my three years in the army have made way with themselves. That I have lived something over a thousand days, in a blue uniform seems incredible. Six months sounds much more reasonable. “Black Jack” reviewed our division yesterday. Only eight of the 13 regiments could be present; but 'twas the finest review I ever saw. Logan rode through our camp, and expressed himself much pleased at our way of keeping house. We have a beautiful camp, every part of it cleanly swept every morning. It is also decorated profusely with evergreens from the mountains. I suppose it is unnecessary to tell you what we killed in the deerhunt, I spoke of in my last, as in prospect; but we did have a power of fun. Colonel Young, the citizen who proposed the party to me, is probably some 55 years old; and at heart a Rebel (he is now a member of the Alabama Legislature) but has taken the oath. I noticed a suspicious “auburn” tinge on his nose, and provided myself with a canteen of pure lightning commissary whiskey. The colonel had tasted none of the ardent for a long time, and his thirst was excessive. He became intensely demoralized; and proved the most amusing character of the party. He made us a speech, and committed so many fooleries, that if he had been anything but a Rebel, I would have been ashamed of myself for my part in his fall. Captains Wyckoff and Brown received orders yesterday accepting their tenders of resignation, and have started home. Lieutenant Worley has been detached to the Signal Corps. He is worthy of it. We (the whole corps) received orders this morning to prepare for the field immediately. The order is from McPherson and says: “Not one tent will be taken into the field, only two wagons will be allowed the regiment, one for the officers and one for the cooking utensils of the men.” That is coming down pretty low. Three years ago we had 13 wagons to each regiment. Two years ago eight, one year ago 'twas reduced to six, and now to two. What will it be next? Captain Sid. writes that two divisions of our corps will be left on this line of railroad to guard it this summer. I think ours and Morgan L. Smith's will probably be the two; but 'tis hard to tell. I would for my part much rather march; if we do march, I have no doubt our course will be what I have before told you, Larkin's Landing, Lebanon and Rome, Ga. They have made a change in our artillery. Two batteries now accompany each division, and the rest goes into an artillery reserve, a corps organization. You remember that I told you that the 1,500 horses we foraged in this country would be dead loss to the government. Our authorities fed them all winter, and this last week an order came to give them back to the citizens. Remember they have all been paid for. But they are of no account to the army, and 'tis the best thing that can now be done with them.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 225-7

Friday, March 23, 2018

Captain Charles Wright Wills: November 11, 1863

Winchester, Tenn., November 11, 1863.

We arrived here at 9 this a. m., our brigade making the distance from Salem, 11 miles, in three hours. That, we call fast walking. I wrote you last from Florence., Ala., on the 1st inst. From there we marched to Rodgersville and thence up the right bank of Elk river to Fayetteville, where we crossed there onto this place. Rumor says that we draw 20 days' rations here. It is three-fourths official, too. It is certain that we leave here in the morning, but nobody knows where for. We could certainly march to Chattanooga in six days, but could go much quicker by the railroad from Decherd station, which is only two miles from here. The wagon road from here to Chattanooga is awful. But one brigade has ever marched it. The mountains commence right here and continue to, the Lord knows where. Our brigade is to be mounted immediately. In the last 60 miles marching we have mounted 800 or nearly half. The citizens along the road very kindly furnished all of stock and equipments. My company was mounted four days ago. Company C is to be mounted next. As fast as the men are mounted they are put out as foragers for more horses, etc. The first day my company was mounted we got 30 horses, and would have done better, but confound me if I could take horses from crying women, although I am satisfied that half of their howling is sham, got up for the occasion. My first day's foraging almost used me up. We had fed our horses and I went to unhitch a mule from the fence to give him in charge of one of the men, and the brute scared and jerked the rail from the fence and started like lightning. The end of the rail struck me on the calves of my legs and elevated my boots five feet. The attraction of gravitation brought me down to the globe and I landed with a great deal of vim on a rock about the size of our parlor floor, and as smooth as a peach stone. The only severe injury either the rock or myself sustained was a very badly sprained wrist. I got that. My left hip and left shoulder were hurt some, but the wrist has pained me so confoundedly that I don't count them. It has pained me so for the last two days and is so tender that I could stand neither the jolting of a horse or wagon. I tried to ride my horse this morning; we were in column and had to strike a trot and that beat me. Think I will be all right for the saddle in a few days, though will have a tender wrist for a good while. Well, our division came through in the advance and our brigade has had the lead most of the time. We have had plenty of forage, but light issues of regular rations probably average. Half Morgan L. Smith's and John E. Smith's divisions are close up to us, will be here to-morrow. Osterhaus and Dodge are behind them. We have five divisions all told, probably 25,000 or 30,000 men. We met here the first troops belonging to the Army of the Cumberland.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 200-2

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, January 3, 1863

Headquarters Fourth Brigade, Second Div.,
“MilliKEN's Bend,” Louisiana, January 3, 1863.

I seize a moment to write you a brief letter, for I know how anxious you all must be about me. The papers, who know everything, and more too, will have apprised you long before you receive this letter that we have had a fight, that we have met the enemy and that they are not ours; and you will imagine, of course, that I am captured, wounded and killed, but by the grace of God I’ve come out of the ruins unscathed. I went under fire Saturday evening, about six o'clock, 27th ult.; was in raging battle Sunday and Monday; and Sunday, very early in the action, Gen. Morgan L. Smith was shot pretty badly in the hip and had to go off the field. I think he’ll die. By General Sherman's order, General Stuart assumed command of the division and I of the brigade, but Stuart being unwell I virtually had command of the whole division during the fight of Sunday. After the first part of the affair was over, Gen. A. J. Smith, as ranking officer, took command. I had ten regiments and three batteries of sixteen guns before Smith came. My men behaved splendidly, especially in our own regiment, which, however, suffered a good deal, nineteen killed and wounded; my best captain badly wounded. Our loss is pretty heavy, but the enemy must have suffered terribly. I am now in command of the old brigade, composed of the 54th Ohio, 55th Illinois, 57th Ohio, 83d Indiana, and 127th Illinois, with two fine batteries. The 83d Indiana is a noble regiment, commanded by Colonel Spooner, of Lawrenceburgh; he knows your father well. I led his regiment under their first fire myself and can testify to their gallantry. I suppose the Administration will have too much to do to think of the promotion of so insignificant and humble an individual as me, but it is pretty hard to take the responsibility of commanding brigades without the rank. Yet this is the second big fight in which I've been compelled to it, to say nothing of minor skirmishes. My own little regiment is a brick; she'll follow me to hell at the word go. Never falters, never complains. We lay in that swamp, among the mud-turtles and alligators, a week, and short of rations, and not the first man whimpered. I had a fellow shot through the hand, shattering it and maiming him for life; the ball broke the stock of his rifle, and instead of complaining about his hand, he went hunting about for another gun, cursing the enemy for breaking his; however, all these incidents of battle are very uninteresting to you and it is really wonderful how soon we forget them. There is a party of officers sitting now at my right hand, laughing and talking and playing cards, whose lives, twenty-four hours ago, were not worth a rush, who have been in the imminent and deadly breach, who have lost comrades and soldiers from their companies, and who this moment are entirely oblivious of the fact.

The weather has been generally warm and pleasant for the past ten or twelve days; is now warm enough, but it rains tremendously. I am told, by those who know the climate, that it rains at this season of the year, after it once sets in, for six weeks, then storms for six weeks, and then rains again. I don't know how this may be, but God preserve us from having days of such rain as has been pouring down this.

They all seem to be looking forward to Christmas, with the usual fond anticipations of childhood, and with that they wish I could be with them. My Christmas was far away, sailing on the Mississippi; my dinner, for supplies were very short, a homely dish of codfish and potatoes minced, with a relish of stewed beans. My New Year's Day was passed under the rifle-pits and batteries of the enemy in one of the vast swamps of the Mississippi, beneath huge cottonwood and sweet gum trees overgrown with the long peculiar moss of the country that flaunts in the breeze like funeral weeds. On Saturday night, while I was planting a battery, a huge owl — one of the species that make these swamps their home — flapped his wings right over me, and roosting in the tree above my head gave an unearthly screech and wound up with a laugh and prolonged ha! ha! ha! so much like the utterance of a human being as almost to startle me. I took it for an omen. Where will my next Christmas be, where shall I make my next New Year's call? The last has been an eventful year to me; for the past nine months each day has been filled with thrilling incidents. I should like a little rest. I should like to lie down and be quiet. I should like to have some one soothe my brow, and make me feel as if I were a little child again. That is a beautiful idea in Scripture, where we are taught that all must become as little children, before they can enter into the kingdom of heaven. It is almost heaven to feel like a little child on earth. But now my business is to slay and destroy, to exercise all my intellect in the destruction of human life and property.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 251-3

Monday, May 12, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, September 13, 1862

CAMP ON HERNANDO ROAD, NEAR MEMPHIS,
Sept. 13, 1862.
MY DEAR WIFE:

I have just returned from an expedition into Mississippi made by our brigade, upon forced marches every day. We have had some skirmishing with guerilla bands, have killed ten, wounded a large number, and taken nearly an hundred prisoners, with mules, horses, and other property. I rode many miles for the past four days, have been almost constantly in the saddle, day and night. I find your very affectionate letter of the 3d inst. and the beautiful poem you have written about the battle. I will reply to your letter at length to-morrow; now have just time to acknowledge its receipt and say I am well, for you are doubtless worried at not hearing from me. There is a good deal of excitement about Memphis. We are expecting reinforcements. I have changed my camp some four miles from where my last letter was dated. The locality is a better one.

Do not suppose I am troubled about military matters; your letter goes to show an anxiety about me in that regard. If I cannot have a brigade of my own, I had rather be brigaded under Morgan L. Smith than any other man I know of, though he is a terribly strict disciplinarian. The brigade has a great reputation for drill, marching and fighting qualities, and is really the crack brigade of the Southwestern army.

I have unlimited confidence in Sherman, who is a great man and a great general; therefore I am as well situated as one can hope to be in the volunteer service. It is only in the regular army where officers can hope for comfort or relief from the thousand vexations and annoyances consequent to a lack of thorough discipline.

Your lines are very beautiful; one or two lines not to be excelled. I wish we could collect all you have written. Do you know where a copy can be had of the lines to your grandmother?

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 237

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, August 8, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,
CAMP NEAR MEMPHIS, Aug. 8, 1862.

Your letter of the 1st inst. has just been received. I cannot understand why eight days should be consumed in the transit of mail matter when the individual requires only two to pass over the same ground. The army, however, is always scolding the mails, and perhaps without reason. We ought to be thankful for any intelligence, however tardy.

Our tents are pitched in pleasant places near the city, plenty of shade and pure water. The health of my men would improve if they would practise self-denial in food; but the temptation in the shape of green corn, fresh fruit and vegetables is too much for their frail nature to withstand. If I can get them safely through September, they will be in good training for a fall and winter campaign. My own diarrhoea has never left me — I suppose never will. I have lost flesh and strength, but I do not suffer save from the inconvenience and loss of rest at night. Sometimes it is checked slightly, but I think it is chronic and beyond the power of medicine. No furloughs or leaves of absence are granted from this division of the army, on account of sickness or for any other cause. I have asked furloughs for officers and men who have died, and whose lives, I am assured by the surgeons, might have been saved by change of air and alleviation from the miseries of the camp, but never with any success. I would not ask a furlough for myself, I would not take one if offered; but it would be worse than useless to ask. It will be long before I shall see family or friend. This hard, pitiless war will never come to an end in my lifetime. Last night three of my officers, who were badly wounded at Shiloh, returned. Two of them were shot very severely, one having his kidney, lung, and liver pierced with a Minie-ball; and yet, strange to say, he is here to-day reported for duty, while men who got only flesh wounds died. I thought they would not return to their regiment, but they felt the peculiar fascination that few are able to resist. Their welcome by their old comrades in arms was very affecting. Strong men embraced and wept. Those who had stood shoulder to shoulder during the two terrible days of that bloody battle, were hooped with steel, with bands stronger than steel; and those who might have been discharged, the scars of whose honorable wounds were yet raw, forsook friends and the comforts of home to come to their regiment, to the society of their companions. This is the great impelling feeling, though duty, patriotism, and “death's couriers, Fame and Honor, called them to the field again.” No officer whose honor is dear to him can be away now; absence from post is a burning shame and will be a lasting disgrace.

It is not probable that Sherman will be ordered to Vicksburg for some time, if at all. Meanwhile the drill and the discipline of the troops is rigidly enforced. Brig.-Gen. Morgan L. Smith, under whose command the “54th” is brigaded, is a martinet almost to tyranny.

I do not deem it beyond the range of the probabilities of this war that Cincinnati be attacked. Buell will have his hands full to prevent it. The city would be a tempting prize to soldiers.

You had better have an eye on this matter in the making of your fall arrangements. I don't want to write that which will give you uneasiness. I do not regard it as at all certain that Bragg would push his columns up between Curtis and Buell; but it is certain that there is a good deal of disaffection in Kentucky. If Richmond is evacuated — and disease and want of commissary stores may compel this — then desperate men in large guerilla bands may precipitate themselves upon a city so far as I know undefended. The South is a united people; they have over one million and a half of fighting men, their soldiers are better drilled and better disciplined than ours, they are better armed and fight as well, and above all it is far easier for them to keep their regiments filled up to the maximum number, than it is for us. Every man, who is able to fight, is willing to fight. The women, the children, the old, the feeble, take pride in the army, and cheer those on to glory whom they think are winning it in the defence of their homes, their firesides, and the heritage of their fathers.

I saw a sweet little girl the other day the very image of Bettie and very much like her in manners; of course I courted and petted her, notwithstanding she was a most bitter little “Secesh.” It was most amusing to hear her philippics, but I could not help loving her for Bettie's sake, and the little witch, as evidence that I had won her favor, though a “Yank,” came with her father to my camp. She is the first child I have spoken to for six long months, if I make an exception of the occasional pickaninny, an insect with which this sunny South abounds. It was very amusing on the march to see whole flocks of them, generally nude, by the roadside in the care of some ancient mother of the herd.

Enclosed please find an effusion from the pen of Col. Tom Worthington, a brother of the General, with whom I have become quite intimate; the lines were almost if not quite impromptu, written and handed me just after the battle, though since, I believe, published. The allusion to the azalia is very happy; the whole air was redolent with their perfume on the day of the battle, and more than once I caught a handful of them, while my horse was treading among the dead.

This afternoon I am invited to a grand review of the 8th Missouri, and to meet all the field officers of the division at General Sherman's headquarters. Within two or three days we present General Sherman with a sword, and I am expected to make the presentation speech at a grand dinner, at which I suppose nearly all the officers, certainly all the field and staff, will be present. As I remarked of General Smith, so Sherman is a martinet, but he is a soldier, every inch, and as brave as they make them. I fought by his side all day from seven o'clock in the morning till dark on Monday, sat by him when his horse was shot, and saw his hand grazed by a cannon ball. He's every inch a soldier and a gentleman and a chieftain. Colonel Worthington don't like him, which is strange, for they are both West Pointers, but the fact is the Colonel is a little jealous that he has not a higher command.

My prince of horses, Bellfounder, is in splendid health, his neigh rings out long and loud whenever he sees me. You shall ride him if he ever gets home.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 232-5

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Col. Thomas Kilby Smith to Mrs. Eliza Walter Smith, April 24, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,
CAMP NO. 8 BEFORE CORINTH, May 24, 1862.
MY DEAR MOTHER:

In the midst of "battle and murder and sudden death," your letter of the 12th inst. is handed me. I snatch a hasty moment to reply. I have waited for many days for the time to come when I might sit down to write you as I would wish, but the hurry of the march, the incessant labor at the breastworks, the din of the skirmish leave no opportunity for writing. I have slept in my clothes with bridle in hand for the past ten days and nights. We are close upon Corinth. Our pickets within sight of the enemy's entrenchments. My troops stack arms behind our own breastworks, and there I bivouac. You must, judging from the slips you sent me, have very meagre accounts of the movements of Sherman's Division. I have asked wife to forward the newspaper intelligence, which is partly reliable, and with which the Cincinnati papers have been filled. Pretty full accounts, I am told, have also been published in the New York Herald, a correspondent of which is with the division, and there also will be found Sherman's and Stuart's reports. Sherman's report is decidedly the best account of the battles of the 6th and 7th, and Stuart's will locate the position of our brigade in the field those days. Many papers published in St. Louis and Chicago and local country papers in Ohio have been sent me in which my name is prominently mentioned, and they have been pleased to compliment me. I am only conscious of having tried to do my duty. Acts of heroism were rife those days, and thousands of brave hearts ceased to beat. I rode many a weary mile over the dead and dying. Some of these days, if we live to meet, I will tell you some of the horrors of that battle. Strange how soon one becomes blunted to horror. How little one thinks of human suffering and death and despair. I could tell you of trenches dug and filled with bodies, packed to lie close ; of gentlemen of the South, whose delicate hands, ringed fingers, and fine linen gave evidence of high birth and position. Twenty, thirty together in one hole; men thrown in head downward or upward, clotted, mutilated, bloody, sometimes a man and horse together, and in the midst of these graves and trenches and the carrion of hundreds of dead horses, I camped for twenty-two days, right on that part of the battlefield which was the very charnel, and right where I halted my brigade on Monday night. From thence our course has been forward; every inch of the ground stubbornly contested by the enemy. We have crossed the State line from Tennessee, and now in Mississippi by regular parallels approach the stronghold of the enemy; for every commanding ridge or hill there is a fight, a skirmish we call it here, and think but little of forty or fifty killed and one or two hundred wounded. . . . It is a terrible war in all its phases. God grant that our beloved country be once again blessed with peace. How little did we appreciate the blessing! how priceless now would be its restoration! You ask for incidents interesting to me. I wish, dear mother, I could gratify you. If I only had memory and a graphic pen I could give you a startling history, something in comparison to which the scenes in Scott and James would seem tame, but my aversion to writing amounts to a mania. I shrink from pen and paper as a mad dog does from water, and save to you and wife, I write ne'er a line to man or woman. I wish I had never learned to write, and could set my seal like the knights of old instead of affixing the signature which has also become distasteful to me. I ought to tell you of some of my night marches when I have been ordered out in rain and utter darkness with my own regiment, unsupported, and with no one to divide the responsibility, and none but a doubtful resident as a guide. How, at the head of my men, with the guide's bridle in one hand and a pistol in the other to shoot him should he prove recreant, I have marched for miles through the pathless and almost impenetrable swamp, my men toiling after me with their cartridge-boxes slung at bayonet point to keep the powder dry. How with clothes wringing wet they have lain in ambuscade till day-dawn right under the enemy's guns without fire or food, word or whisper, till gray dawn, and then making reconnoissance, steal silently back. I could tell you of my charge when my color-guard were all killed, and my standard-bearer swept away by a falling tree, a tree cut sheer off by the solid shot from a cannon; how my gallant horse pressed right through rank after rank and enabled me to rescue my flag; or I could tell how the same gallant stallion (and I thank God he stands now unscathed right near me munching his oats) by three successive leaps bore me right up, not down, a precipice of rock almost perpendicular, and when one could hardly have found foot-hold for an antelope. For the first time in my life on horseback I closed my eyes in fear. Jagged rocks were behind me, a sheer perpendicular wall in front; here and there a fissure where the wild vine caught root. I thought he must have fallen backwards and that I must die ingloriously mangled under him, but with unequalled power and activity he bore me to the top, and there amidst a perfect rain of balls he tossed his head and flung his neigh like a clear ringing trumpet. These things should be for others to tell; it is not mine after I have fought my battle to tell my own story, but alas! there are so many stories to tell that it is hard to find a historian; and one's comrade, in scenes such as these transpiring, has enough to do to take care of himself instead of taking care of another's fame and notes to give it wing. Speaking of fame, I may as well give up the hope of it. This name of Smith, in these latter days, attaches to too many good men and true, to say nothing of the damned rascals who also inherit it. There are four colonels, one a Kirby Smith from Ohio. There is your friend, E. Kirby Smith of Southern notoriety, and now, to cap the climax, I have been brigaded with Morgan L. Smith, the hero of Fort Donaldson. He is a dashing, fighting man, and we have an eminently fighting brigade, the left flank of which I still retain; but a man by the name of Smith might as well attempt to pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon as to win fame. If I figure in the ball, the scribblers attach the feat to Morgan; if he performs some dauntless deed of heroism, I get the glory. But as I have said and written, this is not the war or the field in which to gather laurels; it is unholy, unnatural fratricide. As well might he who has buried his knife in his brother's heart rush forth and exultingly brandish the dripping blade as evidence of good deed done, as he, the executioner of the law (for we are nothing else than executioners sent forth by Government to see the law enforced), offer his trophies, the wrung heart of the widow and fatherless, the ruined plantation, the devastated field, the destruction of the fond hopes of the loving, the ruined patrimony of the unborn, claiming fame, glory, and renown. In sadness and sorrow we draw the sword, the true soldier and patriot sheathes it in the body of the rebel in the same spirit as the patriarch of old offered his son.

But, my dear mother, I must write you of yourself. I received two letters from wife, one acquainting me with your illness, one of your convalescence; but I am grieved and shocked that you should have been so ill. You have been worried about me, and your anxiety has affected your head and brought on those dreadful hemorrhages. I know how prone you are to borrow trouble and always fear the worst; but don't fear for me, dear mother; the same God to whom you nightly pray for me will hear your prayers and the prayers of my wife and children. I have firm reliance upon Him, that He will uphold, sustain, and strengthen me, and bring me out of the conflict unharmed. If it should be my lot to go under — if I should fall, believe me, dear mother, I shall fall with my face to the foe, and then, in the language of the poet who has written the beautiful lines you have sent me, "Yield him 'neath the chastening rod, to His Country and his God."

But banish all apprehensions from your mind. A few years, perhaps a few short months, will intervene when you and I together will join those who have gone before us, when we shall solve the great problem, fathom the great gulf, and relying on the Holy Word of God walk with the loved ones in the paths of Paradise. A little, only a little while, and the battle of life for both of us, dear mother, will have been fought, and, with God's help, the victory won.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 205-9

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Colonel Thomas Kilby Smith to Elizabeth Budd Smith, May 15, 1862

HEADQUARTERS 54TH REGT. O. V. INF.,
CAMP NO. 6 IN THE FIELD,
MISSISSIPPI, May 15, 1862.

We are still advancing, counter-skirmishing, and the din of cannonading is by day and night. We are close to Corinth. A great and decisive battle must soon be fought. We have been brigaded a second time. My regiment is now under command of Brigadier-General Morgan L. Smith, and consists of four regiments, the 55th Illinois, Colonel Stuart; the 57th Ohio, under Lieutenant-Colonel Rice, the Colonel being absent on sick leave; the 8th Missouri, and the 54th Ohio. I still preserve my position on the left flank, which gives me my position on the extreme left of the brigade, and as we march by the left flank, the advance of the army, which is a post of honor. The integrity and courage of my command is undoubted, and therefore the responsible trust. My address will now be 54th Regiment, Ohio Volunteers, First Brigade, Fifth Division, Major-General Sherman commanding.

SOURCE: Walter George Smith, Life and letters of Thomas Kilby Smith, p. 204

Friday, October 11, 2013

Major General William T. Sherman to Ellen Ewing Sherman, January 4, 1863

ON BOARD Forest Queen,
MILLIKEN'S BEND, January 4, 1863.

Well, we have been to Vicksburg and it was too much for us, and we have backed out. I suppose the attack on Holly Springs and the railroad compelled Grant to fall behind the Tallahatchie, and consequently the Confederates were enabled to reinforce Vicksburg. Besides, its natural strength had been improved by a vast amount of labor, so that it was impossible for me to capture or even to penetrate to the road from which alone I could expect to take it. For five days we were thundering away, and when my main assault failed, and Admiral Porter deemed another requiring the cooperation of the gunboats “too hazardous,” I saw no alternative but to regain my steamboats and the main river, which I did unopposed and unmolested. To re-embark a large command in the face of an enterprising and successful enemy is no easy task, but I accomplished it. McClernand has arrived to supersede me by order of the President himself.1 Of course I submit gracefully. The President is charged with maintaining the government and has a perfect right to choose his agents. My command is to be an army corps composed of Morgan L. Smith's old command (poor Morgan now lies wounded badly in the hip on board the Chancellor, and his division is commanded by Stuart), and the troops I got at Helena commanded by Fred Steele whom I know well. These are all new and strange to me but such is life and luck. Before I withdrew from the Yazoo I saw McClernand and told him that we had failed to carry the enemy's line of works before Vicksburg, but I could hold my ground at Yazoo — but it would be useless. He promptly confirmed my judgment that it was best to come out into the main river at Milliken's Bend. We did so day before yesterday, and it has rained hard two days and I am satisfied that we got out of the Swamp at Chickasaw Bayou in time, for now water and mud must be forty feet deep there. . . .  Regulars did well, of course, but they or no human beings could have crossed the bayou and live. People at a distance will ridicule our being unable to pass a narrow bayou, but nobody who was there will. Instead of lying idle I proposed we should come to the Arkansas and attack the Post of Arkansas, fifty miles up that river, from which the enemy has attacked the river capturing one of our boats, towing two barges of navy coal and capturing a mail, so I have no doubt some curious lieutenant has read your letters to me. We must make the river safe behind us before we push too far down. We are now on our way to the Post of Arkansas. McClernand assumed command to-day, so I will not be care-worn again by the duty of looking to supplies, plans, etc. . . .  It will in the end cost us at least ten thousand lives to take Vicksburg. I would have pushed the attack to the bitter end, but even had we reached the city unassisted we could not have held it if they are at liberty to reinforce from the interior. . . .
__________

1 On January 2, Sherman had learned that McClernand had “orders from the War Department to command the expeditionary force on the Mississippi River” (Memoirs, I, 322). On January 24, Sherman wrote to his wife: “It was simply absurd to supersede me by McClernand, but Mr. Lincoln knows I am not anxious to command, and he knows McClernand is, and must gratify him. He will get his fill before he is done.”

SOURCES: M. A. DeWolfe Howe, Editor, Home Letters of General Sherman, p. 235-7.  A full copy of this letter can be found in the William T Sherman Family papers (SHR), University of Notre Dame Archives (UNDA), Notre Dame, IN 46556, Folder CSHR 1/150.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Major General William T. Sherman to Senator John Sherman, December 14, 1862

MEMPHIS, Dec. 14, 1862.

Dear Brother:

I am back in Memphis, having been charged by Gen. Grant to organize the forces here and such as may be assigned from Helena, and to proceed to Vicksburg and reduce that place and co-operate with Grant, whom I left at Oxford, Miss. He expected I would have 40,000 but I cannot count on more than 30,000, but expect if steamers arrive according to the design, by the 18th to embark for that destination. The move is one of vast importance and if successful will remove the obstacles to the navigation of the Mississippi, although it will as long as war lasts be a source of contention. I take it that now Vicksburg is fortified by land and water, and that it is a difficult task, but it must be undertaken. Things are not exactly right. Grant commands on this side, Curtis on the west and Admiral Porter on the River. All ought to be under one head, but thus far I meet the heartiest co-operation and I feel certain that we will all act in concert. Our move on the Tallahatchee was well planned and well executed. Though we had no battles yet the enemy had made every preparation for a determined resistance at the Tallahatchee, but were completely disconcerted by the move on their flank and rear from Helena, which was entirely unexpected. The country between the Yazoo and Mississippi is all alluvial and a few hours’ rain renders the roads impassable to artillery, but fortunately the weather was good and all our forces reached their appointed places on time and the result accomplished the object without battle. The retreat of the Confederate army was rapid and confused and the effect was equal to a victory. Grant now has a well appointed army at Oxford, Miss., with which he will move south as soon as I am in position at Vicksburg. It is very difficult to keep up communications, as his railroad reaches the Mississippi at Columbus, Ky., and the river is lower than it was ever known at this season, so that navigation is very difficult. The country is full of guerilla bands so that couriers cannot be relied on across the country 75 miles. I will try and reach Vicksburg by a certain date, and will have Grant advised so that though far apart our movements will be in concert. . . .

These surrenders of Harper's Ferry, Mumfordsville, and Hartsville illustrate the danger of detachments. It is idle to talk about blaming the officers. These were the very loudest in boasting of their prowess, and their destruction don't cure the facts. All the orders won't stop it. Our people are taught insubordination and independence, and when confused and disordered their commanders are helpless. . . .

I will only have one of my old Divisions, Morgan L. Smith’s, but will rely much on the enthusiasm attached to this peculiar expedition. . . .

W. T. S.

SOURCE: Rachel Sherman Thorndike, Editor, The Sherman letters: correspondence between General and Senator Sherman from 1837 to 1891, p. 174-6