{Correspondence Cincinnati Commercial}
EXTRACTS.
Four miles from Savannah, we halted to allow Nelson to get out of the way, as we were at the rear of his trains. At 6 P.M., having distributed two days’ rations of the necessaries of life to the soldiers, (that is, hard crackers,) we were taking arms preparatory to start, when in rode Col. Smith, the commander of our brigade, accompanied by a mounted Orderly only, after a ride of nearly sixty miles, accomplished in ten hours. He had reached us at the critical moment, and we already felt his presence more than the addition of five hundred men; and then sequel will show that the enthusiasm manifested on the occasion was the result of an earnest conviction that, in this instance, the right man was in the right place.
(I will state in parenthesis that for several weeks previous Col. Smith had been separated from his command, engaged in superintending the repairs of the railroad leading from Nashville.)
His reception, as I have intimated already, was of the warmest and most cordial description. He made a few brief remarks, and off we started, arriving in Savannah about 8 o’clock in the evening. The scene here was indicative of the days struggle.
The final capture of the famous Washington battery, of New Orleans, which did so much damage to us at Bull Run, will send a thrill of pleasure through the heart of the Nation, and Ohio must feel proud of the brave men whose strong arms and stout hearts contributed so much to the achievement. Gen. Buell rode fearlessly along the lines throughout the day and [watched] with a keen eye our advance and capture of the battery. Gen Crittenden proved worthy of the confidence [reposed] in him, and our men desire no other to lead this division to battle. Acting Brigadier Gen. W. S. Smith commanding our brigade, the 14th, was the hero of this fight, however within the scope of my eye, and you must bear in mind that I am only describing this part of the great battle. Other and abler hands will doubtless attempt the whole. Believe me, however, that I make no invidious distinction in claiming this title for our brave commander. The officers and men of the 11th and 26th Kentucky Regiments, which, with the 13th Ohio, compose our brigade, all concede him this honor.
Seizing our beloved flag from the color bearer, he waved it over his head and with a few words of a kind to kindle the enthusiasm of the men he led the charge himself; mounted, and exposed to the terrible fire of the infuriated rebels, and with sword in hand, was the first to dash upon the battery and knock out the brains of one if not more, of the gunners with his sword. It is [in] scenes of this kind that we fully realize the force of individual character, in infusing multitudes with a spirit of daring that inspires each man to deeds of valor. Confident of success, they never stop to count the cost till the victory is won. Ours has not been cheaply bought; Major Runkel fell severely wounded, sword in hand, in the very front of the battle. Capts. Gardner and Henderson and Lieut. Lindenberg were also wounded while leading their men to victory. I will mention here for the comfort of the families and friends of the above named officers that their wounds, though sever and painful, are not dangerous.
Where all did so well it does not become me to speak of individual daring, but the conduct of our color-sergeant, Stone, deserves the highest praise, and this particular position, as the bear of our flag, enables me to speak his praise without even indirectly reflecting upon others, which the mention of officers of the same rank does, unless you praise them all.
Our loss is not more than two thirds of that of the enemy, and ours, in the two days, in killed alone, is estimated at three thousand.
We now hold a position three miles in advance of that occupied by us on Monday morning. But we do not regard the victory as decisive, although we believe the back-bone of their grand army to be broken.
Respectfully, T. B. G.
– Published in The Athens Messenger, Athens, Ohio, Thursday, April 24, 1862
Showing posts with label Nelson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nelson. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
General W. S. Smith
Friday, January 30, 2009
Statement Of Major McDonald, Of The 8th Missouri, Who Was In The Battle
Statement of Major McDonald, Of the 8th Missouri, Who Was In the Battle
Major John McDonald, of the Eighth Missouri, arrived here on yesterday afternoon, direct from Pittsburgh Landing, having left the battle field on Wednesday evening.
He says the Eighth was in the fight on Monday, only lost six or eight killed, and about twenty-five wounded, none of the officers being hurt. He confirms the Killing of Gen. A. S. Johnson [sic], as was told by one of the prisoners, a confederate Lieutenant, that Gen. Bushrod Johnson, who escaped from Donelson, was also killed. All reports about the wounding of Gen. Beauregard, he thinks are unreliable. An officer of the New Orleans Creole Battalion who was taken prisoner, says that Beauregard, who was then commander, made them a speech on Saturday, before the battle, in which he told them that the result was a sure thing, they could not fail, they would capture Grant and his army, then whip Buell, and by this means hold all their railroads. If they lost the day he told them they might as well lay down their arms and go home.
Lieut. Co. J. F. St. James, of the 13th Missouri, was killed; also Lieut. Col. Gerber of the Twenty-fourth Missouri; also Lieut. Col. or Major Kilpatrick, of one of the Illinois regiments. The Ninth Illinois suffered very severely.
The story of the escape of Gen. Prentiss is not true. He and the greater part of his brigade, probable, 3,500 men, were taken prisoners early in the fight on Sunday.
Gen. Grant was at Savannah on Sunday morning and hearing the firing made his way to Pittsburg in all haste, and got on the field about 11 o’clock A. M. In the action on Monday he was considerably hurt in one of his legs by being crushed against a tree.
The gunboats did fine work and probably saved our army from total disaster on Sunday. – They were placed up the stream where they could have full sweep of the rebel lines, and did a great deal of disconcert and keep back the enemy. All Sunday night they kept up a slow fire which harassed the rebels very much.
The beginning of the fight on Sunday morning was a complete surprise, many of our officers and soldiers being over taken in their tents and either slaughtered or taken prisoners. Some of the companies scattered into the ravines and hallows, and could not be got out, either by expostulations or threats. When the line was at length formed to resist the attack, it was done without much regard to company or regiment. By night the rebels had driven our army entirely out of its camps, and was in full possession of tents, equipage and everything.
So well satisfied were they of their days work, and so confident of the morrow, that they destroyed nothing. They got six of our batteries, all of which were recaptured the following day, and about forty of their cannon taken. Our lines on Sunday night were drawn around the landing in a semi circular shape, protected on all sides by our cannon; [but], if they had been hard pressed after dark by the rebels they would have been penetrated, and our entire army overcome.
The arrival of the reinforcements was very cheering; the rear landing and drawing up in good order and proceeding at once to the front, where they were fresh “cocked and primed” for the fight on Monday. The reinforcing divisions were Generals Nelson’s, Crittenden’s and McCook’s. On Tuesday Generals Wood’s and Thomas’s divisions also of Buell’s army came up.
The Fist Missouri artillery, Major Cavender, did splendidly losing no officers or guns.
Major Gen. C. F. Smith was not in the fight at all, but lying sick at Savannah, and not able to get out of his bed.
Our forces at Pittsburg on Sunday morning, were not over thirty-five thousand men. The enemy’s could not have been less than 90,000 men. One of the rebel prisoners, a quarter master, told Major McDonald that not less than ninety thousand rations were issued before they left Corinth.
Bowen’s brigade was heard from. Two or three of the prisoners belonged to it, but the Major, though he tried to see them was unsuccessful.
The second day’s fighting was not half so desperate as the first. The rebels soon gave way before our fresh troops, and were pursued with great slaughter. The pursuit was not continued far. A few miles beyond our lines, towards Corinth, there was a large creek very much swollen by the rains; the bridges of which the fugitives destroyed after them.
It rained very hard during Sunday Monday and Tuesday nights.
Major McDonald thinks Beauregard is not prepared to make a stand at Corinth and if pushed will retreat south as far as Jackson, Mississippi.
About four hundred of the wounded came down with Major McDonald on the steamer Commodore Perry to Paducah, and the others went up to Evansville. The Minnehaha would soon be down with the wounded.
– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 19, 1862
Major John McDonald, of the Eighth Missouri, arrived here on yesterday afternoon, direct from Pittsburgh Landing, having left the battle field on Wednesday evening.
He says the Eighth was in the fight on Monday, only lost six or eight killed, and about twenty-five wounded, none of the officers being hurt. He confirms the Killing of Gen. A. S. Johnson [sic], as was told by one of the prisoners, a confederate Lieutenant, that Gen. Bushrod Johnson, who escaped from Donelson, was also killed. All reports about the wounding of Gen. Beauregard, he thinks are unreliable. An officer of the New Orleans Creole Battalion who was taken prisoner, says that Beauregard, who was then commander, made them a speech on Saturday, before the battle, in which he told them that the result was a sure thing, they could not fail, they would capture Grant and his army, then whip Buell, and by this means hold all their railroads. If they lost the day he told them they might as well lay down their arms and go home.
Lieut. Co. J. F. St. James, of the 13th Missouri, was killed; also Lieut. Col. Gerber of the Twenty-fourth Missouri; also Lieut. Col. or Major Kilpatrick, of one of the Illinois regiments. The Ninth Illinois suffered very severely.
The story of the escape of Gen. Prentiss is not true. He and the greater part of his brigade, probable, 3,500 men, were taken prisoners early in the fight on Sunday.
Gen. Grant was at Savannah on Sunday morning and hearing the firing made his way to Pittsburg in all haste, and got on the field about 11 o’clock A. M. In the action on Monday he was considerably hurt in one of his legs by being crushed against a tree.
The gunboats did fine work and probably saved our army from total disaster on Sunday. – They were placed up the stream where they could have full sweep of the rebel lines, and did a great deal of disconcert and keep back the enemy. All Sunday night they kept up a slow fire which harassed the rebels very much.
The beginning of the fight on Sunday morning was a complete surprise, many of our officers and soldiers being over taken in their tents and either slaughtered or taken prisoners. Some of the companies scattered into the ravines and hallows, and could not be got out, either by expostulations or threats. When the line was at length formed to resist the attack, it was done without much regard to company or regiment. By night the rebels had driven our army entirely out of its camps, and was in full possession of tents, equipage and everything.
So well satisfied were they of their days work, and so confident of the morrow, that they destroyed nothing. They got six of our batteries, all of which were recaptured the following day, and about forty of their cannon taken. Our lines on Sunday night were drawn around the landing in a semi circular shape, protected on all sides by our cannon; [but], if they had been hard pressed after dark by the rebels they would have been penetrated, and our entire army overcome.
The arrival of the reinforcements was very cheering; the rear landing and drawing up in good order and proceeding at once to the front, where they were fresh “cocked and primed” for the fight on Monday. The reinforcing divisions were Generals Nelson’s, Crittenden’s and McCook’s. On Tuesday Generals Wood’s and Thomas’s divisions also of Buell’s army came up.
The Fist Missouri artillery, Major Cavender, did splendidly losing no officers or guns.
Major Gen. C. F. Smith was not in the fight at all, but lying sick at Savannah, and not able to get out of his bed.
Our forces at Pittsburg on Sunday morning, were not over thirty-five thousand men. The enemy’s could not have been less than 90,000 men. One of the rebel prisoners, a quarter master, told Major McDonald that not less than ninety thousand rations were issued before they left Corinth.
Bowen’s brigade was heard from. Two or three of the prisoners belonged to it, but the Major, though he tried to see them was unsuccessful.
The second day’s fighting was not half so desperate as the first. The rebels soon gave way before our fresh troops, and were pursued with great slaughter. The pursuit was not continued far. A few miles beyond our lines, towards Corinth, there was a large creek very much swollen by the rains; the bridges of which the fugitives destroyed after them.
It rained very hard during Sunday Monday and Tuesday nights.
Major McDonald thinks Beauregard is not prepared to make a stand at Corinth and if pushed will retreat south as far as Jackson, Mississippi.
About four hundred of the wounded came down with Major McDonald on the steamer Commodore Perry to Paducah, and the others went up to Evansville. The Minnehaha would soon be down with the wounded.
– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 19, 1862
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
BATTLE AT PITTSBURG
Special Cor. Missouri Democrat
PITTSBURG, ON BOARD THE WHITE CLOUD,
MONDAY EVENING, April 7, 1862
Let me now give you a chapter from my own experiences. And I am aware that I shall fail to give you anything like an adequate idea either of the sights I witnessed, or the impressions they produced. Language could convey no conception of the ghastly horrors of a great battle-field, much less of its sickening effect upon one unused to such spectacles. The descriptions of scenes like these, most of your readers will be happy enough never to realize.
It is a fact which I can hardily account for on principles of acoustics, that when we were forty miles from our destination, confused and vague reports came to us of the cannonading heard all day Sunday. These stories although frequently repeated, served only to amuse me at first. As we came within ten miles of Savannah, and twenty miles from Pittsburg, the dull boom of cannon became distinctly audible, and grew sharper and louder as we advanced. The effect of the sound, now repeated at slow intervals, now increasing almost into volleys, when combined with our knowledge of the vast forces probably engaged, brought to mind the tones of Waterloo, heard in the halls of Brussels. It was half the pean of victory, and half the knell of untold dead.
When we reached Savannah the most incoherent and conflicting stories were hurled at us from deck and shore. The cry was, “Hurry on with your batteries immediately; they want them.” How slowly the craft seemed to toil against the stream. Perhaps our little six pound howitzer might change the fortunes of the day. At last Pittsburg landing, with its line of smoke stacks and steep bluffs came into sight. Its sides for a mile were swarming with blue coats, artillery horses struggling up the bank, cavalry, infantry, army stores, litters bearing the wounded and dying, mingled in chaotic confusion. What could this mean? Could it be another Bull Run? When the boat landed we learned that we had been repulsed on Sunday, but hat retrieved our fortunes the next day; that the enemy were retreating, and that the battle was pretty much ended. I rushed ashore, hoping to find some place to deposit my baggage in safety, but for a half hour the attempt seemed hopeless. Meantime the quivering report of monster guns behind the bluff told plainly enough that the contest was not ended. At last I found an hospital steward who relieved me of my burden, and I got fairly under way, floundering along through the mud among the snake train of ambulances and artillery wagons. For half a mile I pressed on through the forest, which covered the entire surrounding country without finding any evidences of an engagement, except here and there the scar of an occasional shot high up on the trees. I was told that the hard fighting was a mile beyond. At last broken muskets, cartridge boxes, haversacks, a horse here and there stretched out in his blood began to appear. Before long I found a poor fellow mangled and rotting, who had doubtless fallen the day before. I picked up a letter lying upon him, but reflected that it might identify the body and replaced it. These were the first drops in the tempest of human blood. At some little distance beyond, through the encampment of the Third Ohio, the scene baffled description. Muskets by the hundreds had been thrown away and abandoned. Bodies were lying at intervals of a rod in all directions. Mangled trunks of horses were scattered about. The fighting here must have been well contested and desperate. To detail all of the hideous aspects of the dead in this field of carnage, if it were possible, would be simply revolting. I was drawn by a sort of fascination to one corpse after another. The expressions of mortal agony in the faces of many was fresh as Parhasius could have wished to paint. Some were distorted and defiant. Others were boyish, and wore almost the repose of sleep. One smooth-faced lad seemed to smile. I fancied that in the dying moment he saw his mother. God pity such mothers! Most of the hands were clenched; the glazed eye still glaring as it glared upon the enemy in the moment of death.
In a ravine further on, the corpses of the enemy lay thickest. Here there had been a cannonade of grape-shot and balls. Trees a foot in diameter had been cut in two. Nothing seemed to be unscathed. Two rebels lay disemboweled and brained by a large ball, which had apparently slain a horse beyond. Here lay a poor wretch, in the clamminess and pallor of apparent decomposition. I supposed he had died Sunday; but conceive of my horror when I saw that his chest heaved, “as in his breast the wave of life kept heaving to and fro.” A cannon shot had brained him, but life still worked in a spasm upon his features. Behind me came a strange agonizing cry; it was that of a wounded man bore by on a litter. – A Kentucky captain was exceedingly anxious that I should superintend the burial of an old friend, and recent enemy – a white-headed gentleman of the manner born, and I made him some vain pledges. He said that it would break his wife’s heart if she knew that he was rotting there. How many hearts will be broken – how many homes made desolate by the last few hours! One soldier told me that he was trying to find the body of his brother who might be dead on the field.
Such is war. I would have lingered much longer, but the night was coming on, and the landing was three miles distant and he had fearful evidence that the enemy could not be far distant. Surfeited with horrors I fell in with the returning soldiers and ambulances, “the weary to sleep and the wounded to die.”
Reports, which seem to be confirmed, are afloat that Gen. Prentiss is dying, (he is known to have been captured;) that A. S. Johnson [sic] is killed, (which lacks confirmation,) and that Gen. Beauregard has lost an arm.
LATER.
Tuesday Morning. – On the bluff to the south of the Landing I stumbled upon forty –seven bodies of the wounded who had since died. Among them was a Lieutenant Colonel and Major. Gen. Grant is known to have said that our loss will about to 10,000 wounded, and that of the enemy very much heavier. Gen. Bragg is reported killed, but this is not reliable.
LATER. To day (Tuesday) a strong reconnaissance was made, and the enemy found to be distant at least fifteen miles. An advance will doubtless be made to-morrow. The impression is general that the enemy is completely broken.
ONE DAY LATER.
Tuesday Evening. – I have spent a good portion of the day in traveling over the field of the engagement, but have seen only a small portion of the field. The hardest fighting has been upon the extreme left under Gen. Nelson. The enemy’s batteries fronting them were taken and lost, and after a desperate fighting a charge was made upon the rebels, which drive them finally from the field.
The fighting took place in the effort to drive the enemy from behind a rail fence. Here was a struggle almost hand to hand, and carried on upon both sides with the greatest obstinacy. – The loss was very severe. Bodies lay in some places almost in heaps; many of them were burned almost to cinder by the shell. To the south of our extreme left also, the carnage was very great, particularly through an open orchard. As far as I went the dead were to be seen in all directions. Most of them were secessionists, and many Tennesseans, who had been pressed into the service. Log cabins had been turned into hospitals, wherever found, and were filled with the wounded. The dead were being buried as fast as possible, but under the influence of a hot sun, the air is already impregnated with foul odors. The indications are that to-morrow a general forward movement will be made, and the enemy compelled to fight or fall back upon Corinth.
– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 19, 1862
PITTSBURG, ON BOARD THE WHITE CLOUD,
MONDAY EVENING, April 7, 1862
Let me now give you a chapter from my own experiences. And I am aware that I shall fail to give you anything like an adequate idea either of the sights I witnessed, or the impressions they produced. Language could convey no conception of the ghastly horrors of a great battle-field, much less of its sickening effect upon one unused to such spectacles. The descriptions of scenes like these, most of your readers will be happy enough never to realize.
It is a fact which I can hardily account for on principles of acoustics, that when we were forty miles from our destination, confused and vague reports came to us of the cannonading heard all day Sunday. These stories although frequently repeated, served only to amuse me at first. As we came within ten miles of Savannah, and twenty miles from Pittsburg, the dull boom of cannon became distinctly audible, and grew sharper and louder as we advanced. The effect of the sound, now repeated at slow intervals, now increasing almost into volleys, when combined with our knowledge of the vast forces probably engaged, brought to mind the tones of Waterloo, heard in the halls of Brussels. It was half the pean of victory, and half the knell of untold dead.
When we reached Savannah the most incoherent and conflicting stories were hurled at us from deck and shore. The cry was, “Hurry on with your batteries immediately; they want them.” How slowly the craft seemed to toil against the stream. Perhaps our little six pound howitzer might change the fortunes of the day. At last Pittsburg landing, with its line of smoke stacks and steep bluffs came into sight. Its sides for a mile were swarming with blue coats, artillery horses struggling up the bank, cavalry, infantry, army stores, litters bearing the wounded and dying, mingled in chaotic confusion. What could this mean? Could it be another Bull Run? When the boat landed we learned that we had been repulsed on Sunday, but hat retrieved our fortunes the next day; that the enemy were retreating, and that the battle was pretty much ended. I rushed ashore, hoping to find some place to deposit my baggage in safety, but for a half hour the attempt seemed hopeless. Meantime the quivering report of monster guns behind the bluff told plainly enough that the contest was not ended. At last I found an hospital steward who relieved me of my burden, and I got fairly under way, floundering along through the mud among the snake train of ambulances and artillery wagons. For half a mile I pressed on through the forest, which covered the entire surrounding country without finding any evidences of an engagement, except here and there the scar of an occasional shot high up on the trees. I was told that the hard fighting was a mile beyond. At last broken muskets, cartridge boxes, haversacks, a horse here and there stretched out in his blood began to appear. Before long I found a poor fellow mangled and rotting, who had doubtless fallen the day before. I picked up a letter lying upon him, but reflected that it might identify the body and replaced it. These were the first drops in the tempest of human blood. At some little distance beyond, through the encampment of the Third Ohio, the scene baffled description. Muskets by the hundreds had been thrown away and abandoned. Bodies were lying at intervals of a rod in all directions. Mangled trunks of horses were scattered about. The fighting here must have been well contested and desperate. To detail all of the hideous aspects of the dead in this field of carnage, if it were possible, would be simply revolting. I was drawn by a sort of fascination to one corpse after another. The expressions of mortal agony in the faces of many was fresh as Parhasius could have wished to paint. Some were distorted and defiant. Others were boyish, and wore almost the repose of sleep. One smooth-faced lad seemed to smile. I fancied that in the dying moment he saw his mother. God pity such mothers! Most of the hands were clenched; the glazed eye still glaring as it glared upon the enemy in the moment of death.
In a ravine further on, the corpses of the enemy lay thickest. Here there had been a cannonade of grape-shot and balls. Trees a foot in diameter had been cut in two. Nothing seemed to be unscathed. Two rebels lay disemboweled and brained by a large ball, which had apparently slain a horse beyond. Here lay a poor wretch, in the clamminess and pallor of apparent decomposition. I supposed he had died Sunday; but conceive of my horror when I saw that his chest heaved, “as in his breast the wave of life kept heaving to and fro.” A cannon shot had brained him, but life still worked in a spasm upon his features. Behind me came a strange agonizing cry; it was that of a wounded man bore by on a litter. – A Kentucky captain was exceedingly anxious that I should superintend the burial of an old friend, and recent enemy – a white-headed gentleman of the manner born, and I made him some vain pledges. He said that it would break his wife’s heart if she knew that he was rotting there. How many hearts will be broken – how many homes made desolate by the last few hours! One soldier told me that he was trying to find the body of his brother who might be dead on the field.
Such is war. I would have lingered much longer, but the night was coming on, and the landing was three miles distant and he had fearful evidence that the enemy could not be far distant. Surfeited with horrors I fell in with the returning soldiers and ambulances, “the weary to sleep and the wounded to die.”
Reports, which seem to be confirmed, are afloat that Gen. Prentiss is dying, (he is known to have been captured;) that A. S. Johnson [sic] is killed, (which lacks confirmation,) and that Gen. Beauregard has lost an arm.
LATER.
Tuesday Morning. – On the bluff to the south of the Landing I stumbled upon forty –seven bodies of the wounded who had since died. Among them was a Lieutenant Colonel and Major. Gen. Grant is known to have said that our loss will about to 10,000 wounded, and that of the enemy very much heavier. Gen. Bragg is reported killed, but this is not reliable.
LATER. To day (Tuesday) a strong reconnaissance was made, and the enemy found to be distant at least fifteen miles. An advance will doubtless be made to-morrow. The impression is general that the enemy is completely broken.
ONE DAY LATER.
Tuesday Evening. – I have spent a good portion of the day in traveling over the field of the engagement, but have seen only a small portion of the field. The hardest fighting has been upon the extreme left under Gen. Nelson. The enemy’s batteries fronting them were taken and lost, and after a desperate fighting a charge was made upon the rebels, which drive them finally from the field.
The fighting took place in the effort to drive the enemy from behind a rail fence. Here was a struggle almost hand to hand, and carried on upon both sides with the greatest obstinacy. – The loss was very severe. Bodies lay in some places almost in heaps; many of them were burned almost to cinder by the shell. To the south of our extreme left also, the carnage was very great, particularly through an open orchard. As far as I went the dead were to be seen in all directions. Most of them were secessionists, and many Tennesseans, who had been pressed into the service. Log cabins had been turned into hospitals, wherever found, and were filled with the wounded. The dead were being buried as fast as possible, but under the influence of a hot sun, the air is already impregnated with foul odors. The indications are that to-morrow a general forward movement will be made, and the enemy compelled to fight or fall back upon Corinth.
– Published in the Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, April 19, 1862
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
The True Hero!
The Question is already agitating the public mind as to who was the hero of the great battle at Corinth. It is asserted by some that General Grant was the man. Others say it was General Buell. Some are inclined to think it was General Halleck, while others stoutly contend that it was General Wallace. But we have the unspeakable pleasure to state, on the authority of a private telegram received by ye Local at this office, that no one of the Generals above designated was the true hero of the battle. They were all heroes in a subordinate sense.
The victory was positively one by “Old Strategy!” He alone did it, and no one participated with him in the glory of the transaction. While quietly snoozing in his pavilion on the banks of the Pottymack, and while his servitors were fanning the musketoes from his lordly brow, his faithful nose smelled afar off the coming battle at Corinth!
He started from his deep sleep, and called for his boots! His voice as like the rushing of many waters in a Des Moines river flood!
Said he, - “Bring the clothes-line here and establish a Telegraph office immeditly [sic] at the side of this bead-post!” The order was obeyed. The operating instruments were brought in, and the machine was put in motion. All right! Old Strategy had engineered the battle at Fort Donelson by Telegraph, when there was a chasm of 100 miles for the lightning to leap over without the aid of wires! Lightning could do it, and “Old Strategy” did it!
Click! click! went the instrument, making the clothes-line vibrate with thrilling commands.
“There!” said “old Strategy,” wiping his benign visage, and ejecting a dark colored fluid from his mouth, “General Prentiss by my orders has attacked ‘em at Pittsburgh Landing. He is giving ‘em fits!”
Click! click! General McClernand was ordered to reinforce General Prentiss!
Click! click! General Hurlburt’s [sic] Division was thrown forward to support the centre!
Click! click! Major Taylor’s Battery from Chicago was ordered by “Old Strategy” to mow down the luxuriant rebels, and the Battery went to mowing!
Click! click! General Grant was directed to ride among the raining bullets for diversion, with his hat off, and he rid!
Click! click! The federal gun-boats Lexington & Tyler were directed to rain shell on the rebels and they rained for an indefinite period.
At this point the Tennessee terminus of the Telegraph went poking into the ribs of General Wallace, informing him that his services were needed in the battle, and that he was lost in the woods! This was a grand stroke of “Old strategy” which was highly appreciated by General Wallace, although his ribs gave evidence of painful abrasion!
Click! click! General Nelson with new reinforcements was advised that it was his duty to go in on his muscle, and he went in with his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned!
Click! click! It was ordered that the Iowa Regiments should be restrained as long as practicable, because if they were to let loose on the rebels, they had a dangerous disposition to hurt “our dear Southern Brethren!” This order from “Old Strategy” was the only one which was fully disregarded. The Iowa Regiments waded into the battle with the unconquerable devotion for which they are distinguished, and a part of their war-cry was – “Old Strategy be cussed!”
At nightfall Sunday, “Old Strategy” looked fatigued. He retired early to his couch, and slept with the profound quietude which is characteristic of the classic Pottymack! He arose early, threw back his locks from his massive brow, and called for lunch. – Lunch came, and then came the ubiquitous Telegraph.
Click! click! Generals Wood and Thompson were ordered to reinforce. The reinforcements came.
Finding that he possessed such magnetic and irresistible power over the masses, “old Strategy,” taking a good ready about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, gave a thrilling order to the rebels to “skedaddle” with much haste to Corinth! This was sufficient! No sooner did the words electric reach the rebel hosts, than Beauregard’s arm and army went off simultaneously, and the grand army of the Confederacy, gallantly turning their backs on the enemy, made a Bull Run advance on Corinth with the Federal cavalry in full pursuit. Who, then is the hero of the Corinth battle? “Old Strategy,” of course.
– Published in the Daily State Register, Des Moines, Iowa, Saturday, April 12, 1862
The victory was positively one by “Old Strategy!” He alone did it, and no one participated with him in the glory of the transaction. While quietly snoozing in his pavilion on the banks of the Pottymack, and while his servitors were fanning the musketoes from his lordly brow, his faithful nose smelled afar off the coming battle at Corinth!
He started from his deep sleep, and called for his boots! His voice as like the rushing of many waters in a Des Moines river flood!
Said he, - “Bring the clothes-line here and establish a Telegraph office immeditly [sic] at the side of this bead-post!” The order was obeyed. The operating instruments were brought in, and the machine was put in motion. All right! Old Strategy had engineered the battle at Fort Donelson by Telegraph, when there was a chasm of 100 miles for the lightning to leap over without the aid of wires! Lightning could do it, and “Old Strategy” did it!
Click! click! went the instrument, making the clothes-line vibrate with thrilling commands.
“There!” said “old Strategy,” wiping his benign visage, and ejecting a dark colored fluid from his mouth, “General Prentiss by my orders has attacked ‘em at Pittsburgh Landing. He is giving ‘em fits!”
Click! click! General McClernand was ordered to reinforce General Prentiss!
Click! click! General Hurlburt’s [sic] Division was thrown forward to support the centre!
Click! click! Major Taylor’s Battery from Chicago was ordered by “Old Strategy” to mow down the luxuriant rebels, and the Battery went to mowing!
Click! click! General Grant was directed to ride among the raining bullets for diversion, with his hat off, and he rid!
Click! click! The federal gun-boats Lexington & Tyler were directed to rain shell on the rebels and they rained for an indefinite period.
At this point the Tennessee terminus of the Telegraph went poking into the ribs of General Wallace, informing him that his services were needed in the battle, and that he was lost in the woods! This was a grand stroke of “Old strategy” which was highly appreciated by General Wallace, although his ribs gave evidence of painful abrasion!
Click! click! General Nelson with new reinforcements was advised that it was his duty to go in on his muscle, and he went in with his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned!
Click! click! It was ordered that the Iowa Regiments should be restrained as long as practicable, because if they were to let loose on the rebels, they had a dangerous disposition to hurt “our dear Southern Brethren!” This order from “Old Strategy” was the only one which was fully disregarded. The Iowa Regiments waded into the battle with the unconquerable devotion for which they are distinguished, and a part of their war-cry was – “Old Strategy be cussed!”
At nightfall Sunday, “Old Strategy” looked fatigued. He retired early to his couch, and slept with the profound quietude which is characteristic of the classic Pottymack! He arose early, threw back his locks from his massive brow, and called for lunch. – Lunch came, and then came the ubiquitous Telegraph.
Click! click! Generals Wood and Thompson were ordered to reinforce. The reinforcements came.
Finding that he possessed such magnetic and irresistible power over the masses, “old Strategy,” taking a good ready about 3 o’clock in the afternoon, gave a thrilling order to the rebels to “skedaddle” with much haste to Corinth! This was sufficient! No sooner did the words electric reach the rebel hosts, than Beauregard’s arm and army went off simultaneously, and the grand army of the Confederacy, gallantly turning their backs on the enemy, made a Bull Run advance on Corinth with the Federal cavalry in full pursuit. Who, then is the hero of the Corinth battle? “Old Strategy,” of course.
– Published in the Daily State Register, Des Moines, Iowa, Saturday, April 12, 1862
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