By Author [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Title [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Language
all Classics books content using ISYS

Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month
fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

Title: The Civil War Through the Camera
Author: Elson, Henry W. (Henry William)
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Civil War Through the Camera" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

Internet Archive/American Libraries (http://archive.org/details/americana)

      file which includes the original 452 illustrations.
      Images of the original pages are available through
      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See



_Painted by E. Jahn._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


Hundreds of Vivid Photographs
Actually Taken in Civil War Times

Sixteen Reproductions in Color of Famous War Paintings

The New Text History



Professor of History, Ohio University

A Complete Illustrated History of the Civil War

New York
McKinlay, Stone & Mackenzie

Copyright, 1912
Patriot Publishing Co., Springfield, Mass.



This Federal major of artillery was summoned on April 11, 1861, to
surrender Fort Sumter and the property of the government whose uniform he
wore. At half-past four the following morning the boom of the first gun
from Fort Johnson in Charleston Harbor notified the breathless, waiting
world that war was on. The flag had been fired on, and hundreds of
thousands of lives were to be sacrificed ere the echoes of the great guns
died away at the end of four years into the sobs of a nation whose best
and bravest, North and South, had strewn the many battlefields. No wonder
that the attention of the civilized world was focussed on the man who
provoked the first blow in the greatest conflict the world has ever known.
He was the man who handled the situation at the breaking point. To him the
North looked to preserve the Federal property in Charleston Harbor, and
the honor of the National flag. The action of the South depended upon his
decision. He played the part of a true soldier, and two days after the
first shot was fired he led his little garrison of the First United States
Artillery out of Sumter with the honors of war.



The upper photograph shows Confederates on Monday the fifteenth of April,
1861--one day after the momentous event which Holmes dimly prophesied in
"Brother Jonathan" (page 44). The picture below, with the two following,
were made on the 16th. As April wore on, North and South alike had been
reluctant to strike first. When Major Robert Anderson, on December 26,
1860, removed to Fort Sumter, on an island at the entrance to Charleston
Harbor, he placed himself in a position to withstand long attack. But he
needed supplies. The Confederates would allow none to be landed. When at
length rumors of a powerful naval force to relieve the fort reached
Charleston, the Confederates demanded the surrender of the garrison.
Anderson promised to evacuate by April 15th if he received no additional
supplies. His terms were rejected. At half-past four on the morning of
April 12th a shell from Fort Johnson "rose high in air, and curving in its
course, burst almost directly over the fort." The mighty war had begun.




Wade Hampton (the tallest figure) and other leading South Carolinians
inspecting the effects of the cannonading that had forced Major Anderson
to evacuate, and had precipitated the mightiest conflict of modern
times--two days before.

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, PATRIOT PUB. CO.]


By MARCUS J. WRIGHT, Brigadier-General, C. S. A.

_Agent of the United States War Department for the Collection of Military

The war which was carried on in the United States in 1861-5, called "The
War of the Rebellion," "The Civil War," "The War of Secession," and "The
War Between the States," was one of the greatest conflicts of ancient or
modern times. Official reports show that 2,865,028 men were mustered into
the service of the United States. The report of Provost-Marshal General
Fry shows that of these 61,362 were killed in battle, 34,773 died of
wounds, 183,287 died of disease, 306 were accidentally killed, and 267
were executed by sentence. The Adjutant-General made a report February 7,
1869, showing the total number of deaths to be 303,504.

The Confederate forces are estimated from 600,000 to 1,000,000 men, and
ever since the conclusion of the war there has been no little controversy
as to the total number of troops involved. The losses in the Confederate
army have never been officially reported, but the United States War
Department, which has been assiduously engaged in the collection of all
records of both armies, has many Confederate muster-rolls on which the
casualties are recorded. The tabulation of these rolls shows that 52,954
Confederate soldiers were killed in action, 21,570 died of wounds, and
59,297 died of disease. This does not include the missing muster-rolls, so
that to these figures a substantial percentage must be added. Differences
in methods of reporting the strength of commands, the absence of adequate
field-records and the destruction of those actually made are responsible
for considerable lack of information as to the strength and losses of the
Confederate army. Therefore, the matter is involved in considerable
controversy and never will be settled satisfactorily; for there is no
probability that further data on this subject will be forthcoming.

The immensity and extent of our great Civil War are shown by the fact that
there were fought 2,261 battles and engagements, which took place in the
following named States: In New York, 1; Pennsylvania, 9; Maryland, 30;
District of Columbia, 1; West Virginia, 80; Virginia, 519; North Carolina,
85; South Carolina, 60; Georgia, 108; Florida, 32; Alabama, 78;
Mississippi, 186; Louisiana, 118; Texas, 14; Arkansas, 167; Tennessee,
298; Kentucky, 138; Ohio, 3; Indiana, 4; Illinois, 1; Missouri, 244;
Minnesota, 6; California, 6; Kansas, 7; Oregon, 4; Nevada, 2; Washington
Territory, 1; Utah, 1; New Mexico, 19; Nebraska, 2; Colorado, 4; Indian
Territory, 17; Dakota, 11; Arizona, 4; and Idaho, 1.

It soon became evident that the official record of the War of 1861-5 must
be compiled for the purposes of Government administration, as well as in
the interest of history, and this work was projected near the close of the
first administration of President Lincoln. It has continued during the
tenure of succeeding Presidents, under the direction of the Secretaries of
War, from Edwin M. Stanton, under whom it began, to Secretary Elihu Root,
under whose direction it was completed. As a successor to and complement
of this Government publication, nothing could be more useful or
interesting than the present publication. The text does not aim at a
statistical record, but is an impartial narrative supplementing the
pictures. Nothing gives so clear a conception of a person or an event as a
picture. The more intelligent people of the country, North and South,
desire the truth put on record, and all bitter feeling eliminated. This
work, with its text and pictures, it is believed, will add greatly to that

APRIL 20, 1861


Knots of citizens still linger around the stands where Anderson, who had
abandoned Sumter only six days before, had just roused the multitude to
wild enthusiasm. Of this gathering in support of the Government the _New
York Herald_ said at the time: "Such a mighty uprising of the people has
never before been witnessed in New York, nor throughout the whole length
and breadth of the Union. Five stands were erected, from which some of the
most able speakers of the city and state addressed the multitude on the
necessity of rallying around the flag of the Republic in this hour of its
danger. A series of resolutions was proposed and unanimously adopted,
pledging the meeting to use every means to preserve the Union intact and
inviolate. Great unanimity prevailed throughout the whole proceedings;
party politics were ignored, and the entire meeting--speakers and
listeners--were a unit in maintaining the national honor unsullied. Major
Anderson, the hero of Fort Sumter, was present, and showed himself at the
various stands, at each of which he was most enthusiastically received. An
impressive feature of the occasion was the flag of Sumter, hoisted on the
stump of the staff that had been shot away, placed in the hand of the
equestrian statue of Washington."

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, PATRIOT PUB. CO.]


Looking north on Broadway from "The Park" (later City Hall Park) in war
time, one sees the Stars and Stripes waving above the recruiting station,
past which the soldiers stroll. There is a convenient booth with liquid
refreshments. To the right of the picture the rear end of a street car is
visible, but passenger travel on Broadway itself is by stage. On the left
is the Astor House, then one of the foremost hostelries of the city. In
the lower photograph the view is from the balcony of the Metropolitan
looking north on Broadway. The twin towers on the left are those of St.
Thomas's Church. The lumbering stages, with the deafening noise of their
rattling windows as they drive over the cobblestones, are here in force.
More hoop-skirts are retreating in the distance, and a gentleman in the
tall hat of the period is on his way down town. Few of the buildings seen
here remained half a century later. The time is summer, as the awnings



[Illustration: EDWIN M. STANTON Secretary of War.]

[Illustration: MONTGOMERY BLAIR Postmaster-General.]

[Illustration: GIDEON WELLES Secretary of the Navy.]

[Illustration: SALMON P. CHASE Secretary of the Treasury.]

[Illustration: HANNIBAL HAMLIN Vice-President.]

[Illustration: WILLIAM H. SEWARD Secretary of State.]

[Illustration: CALEB B. SMITH Secretary of the Interior.]

[Illustration: EDWARD BATES Attorney-General.]

Other members were: War, Simon Cameron (1861); Treasury, W. P. Fessenden,
July 1, 1864, and Hugh McCulloch, March 4, 1865; Interior, John P. Usher,
January 8, 1863; Attorney-General, James Speed, December 2, 1864;
Postmaster-General, William Dennison, September 24, 1864.


[Illustration: JAMES A. SEDDON Secretary of War.]

[Illustration: CHRISTOPHER G. MEMMINGER Secretary of the Treasury.]

[Illustration: STEPHEN R. MALLORY Secretary of the Navy.]

[Illustration: JOHN H. REAGAN Postmaster-General.]

[Illustration: ALEXANDER H. STEPHENS Vice-President.]

[Illustration: JUDAH P. BENJAMIN Secretary of State.]

[Illustration: GEORGE DAVIS Attorney-General.]

The members of the Cabinet were chosen not from intimate friends of the
President, but from the men preferred by the States they represented.
There was no Secretary of the Interior in the Confederate Cabinet.


Judah P. Benjamin, Secretary of State, has been called the brain of the
Confederacy. President Davis wished to appoint the Honorable Robert
Barnwell, Secretary of State, but Mr. Barnwell declined the honor.


There had been strife, a bloodless, political strife, for forty years
between the two great sections of the American nation. No efforts to
reconcile the estranged brethren of the same household had been
successful. The ties that bound the great sections of the country had
severed one by one; their contention had grown stronger through all these
years, until at last there was nothing left but a final appeal to the
arbitrament of the sword--then came the great war, the greatest civil war
in the annals of mankind.

"Hostilities" began with the secession of South Carolina from the Union,
December 20, 1860. On January 9, 1861, the _Star of the West_ was fired
upon in Charleston Harbor.

For the first time in the nation's history the newly-elected President had
entered the capital city by night and in secret, in the fear of the
assassin's plots. For the first time he had been inaugurated under a
military guard. Then came the opening shots, and the ruined walls of the
noble fort in Charleston harbor told the story of the beginnings of the
fratricidal war. The fall of Sumter, on April 14, 1861, had aroused the
North to the imminence of the crisis, revealing the danger that threatened
the Union and calling forth a determination to preserve it. The same event
had unified the South; four additional States cast their lot with the
seven which had already seceded from the Union. Virginia, the Old
Dominion, the first born of the sisterhood of States, swung into the
secession column but three days after the fall of Sumter; the next day,
April 18th, she seized the arsenal at Harper's Ferry and on the 20th the
great navy-yard at Norfolk.

Two governments, each representing a different economic and political
idea, now stood where there had been but one--the North, with its powerful
industrial organization and wealth; the South, with its rich agricultural
empire. Both were calling upon the valor of their sons.

At the nation's capital all was confusion and disorder. The tramp of
infantry and the galloping of horsemen through the streets could be heard
day and night. Throughout the country anxiety and uncertainty reigned on
all sides. Would the South return to its allegiance, would the Union be
divided, or would there be war? The religious world called unto the
heavens in earnest prayer for peace; but the rushing torrent of events
swept on toward war, to dreadful internecine war.

The first call of the President for troops, for seventy-five thousand men,
was answered with surprising alacrity. Citizens left their farms, their
workshops, their counting rooms, and hurried to the nation's capital to
take up arms in defense of the Union. A similar call by the Southern
President was answered with equal eagerness. Each side believed itself in
the right. Both were profoundly sincere and deeply in earnest. Both have
won the respect of history.

After the fall of Fort Sumter, the two sides spent the spring months
marshaling their forces for the fierce conflict that was to follow.
President Lincoln had called for three-months' volunteers; at the
beginning of July some thirty thousand of these men were encamped along
the Potomac about the heights of Arlington. As the weeks passed, the great
Northern public grew impatient at the inaction and demanded that Sumter be
avenged, that a blow be struck for the Union.

The "call to arms" rang through the nation and aroused the people. No less
earnest was the feeling of the South, and soon two formidable armies were
arrayed against each other, only a hundred miles apart--at Washington and
at Richmond.

The commander of the United States Army was Lieut.-General Winfield Scott,
whose military career had begun before most of the men of '61 had been
born. Aged and infirm, he remained in Washington. The immediate command
of the army was entrusted to Brigadier-General Irvin McDowell.

Another Union army, twenty thousand strong, lay at Martinsburg, Virginia,
under the command of Major-General Patterson, who, like General Scott, was
a veteran of the War of 1812 and of the Mexican War.

Opposite McDowell, at Manassas Junction, about thirty miles from
Washington, lay a Confederate army under Brigadier-General Beauregard who,
three months before, had won the homage of the South by reducing Fort
Sumter. Opposed to Patterson in the Shenandoah valley was Joseph E.
Johnston with a force of nine thousand men. The plans of the President and
General Scott were to send McDowell against Beauregard, while Patterson
was to detain Johnston in the Valley and prevent him from joining
Beauregard. It was confidently believed that, if the two Confederate
forces could be kept apart, the "Grand Army" could win a signal victory
over the force at Manassas; and on July 16th, with waving banners and
lively hopes of victory, amid the cheers of the multitude, it moved out
from the banks of the Potomac toward the interior of Virginia. It was a
motley crowd, dressed in the varied uniforms of the different State
militias. The best disciplined troops were those of the regular army,
represented by infantry, cavalry, and artillery. Even the navy was drawn
upon and a battalion of marines was included in the Union forces. In
addition to the regulars were volunteers from all the New England States,
from New York and Pennsylvania and from Ohio, Michigan, and Minnesota,
organizations which, in answer to the President's call for troops, had
volunteered for three months' service. Many were boys in their teens with
the fresh glow of youth on their cheeks, wholly ignorant of the
exhilaration, the fear, the horrors of the battle-field. Onward through
the Virginia plains and uplands they marched to the strains of martial
music. Unused to the rigid discipline of war, many of the men would drop
out of line to gather berries or tempting fruits along the roadside, or
to refill their canteens at every fresh stream of water, and frequent
halts were necessary to allow the stragglers to regain their lines.

After a two days' march, with "On to Richmond" as their battle-cry, the
army halted at the quiet hamlet of Centreville, twenty-seven miles from
Washington and seven miles from Manassas Junction where lay the waiting
Confederate army of similar composition--untrained men and boys. Men from
Virginia, from North and South Carolina, from the mountains of Tennessee,
from Alabama, Mississippi, and Georgia, even from distant Arkansas, had
gathered on the soil of the Old Dominion State to do battle for the
Southern cause. Between the two armies flowed the stream of Bull Run,
destined to give its name to the first great battle of the impending
conflict. The opposing commanders, McDowell and Beauregard, had been
long-time friends; twenty-three years before, they had been graduated in
the same class at West Point.

Beauregard knew of the coming of the Federal army. The news had been
conveyed to him by a young man, a former government clerk at Washington,
whose sympathies, however, lay with the cause of the South. He won the
confidence of Beauregard. The latter sent him to the capital city bearing
a paper with two words in cipher, "Trust Bearer." With this he was to call
at a certain house, present it to the lady within, and wait a reply.
Traveling all night, he crossed the Potomac below Alexandria, and reached
the city at dawn, when the newsboys were calling out in the empty streets
the latest intelligence of the army. The messenger rang the doorbell at a
house within a stone's throw of the White House and delivered the scrap of
paper to the only one in the city to whom it was intelligible. She
hurriedly gave the youth his breakfast, wrote in cipher the words, "Order
issued for McDowell to march upon Manassas to-night," and giving him the
scrap of paper, sent him on his way. That night the momentous bit of news
was in the hands of General Beauregard. He instantly wired President
Davis at Richmond and asked that he be reënforced by Johnston's army.

As we have seen, General Scott had arranged that Patterson detain Johnston
in the Valley. He had even advised McDowell that "if Johnston joins
Beauregard he shall have Patterson on his heels." But the aged Patterson
was unequal to the task before him. Believing false reports, he was
convinced that Johnston had an army of thirty-five thousand men, and
instead of marching upon Johnston at Winchester he led his army to
Charlestown, twenty miles in the opposite direction. Johnston thereupon
was free to join Beauregard at Manassas, and he promptly proceeded to do

McDowell's eager troops had rested at Centreville for two days. The time
for them to test their mettle in a general engagement was at hand. Sunday,
July 21st, was selected as the day on which to offer battle. At half-past
two in the morning the sleeping men were roused for the coming conflict.
Their dream of an easy victory had already received a rude shock, for on
the day after their arrival a skirmish between two minor divisions of the
opposing armies had resulted in the retreat of the Union forces after
nineteen of their number lay dead upon the plain. The Confederates, too,
had suffered and fifteen of their army were killed. But patriotic
enthusiasm was too ardent to be quenched by such an incident, and eagerly,
in the early dawn of the sultry July morning, they marched toward the
banks of the stream on which they were to offer their lives in the cause
of their country.

The army moved out in three divisions commanded by Generals Daniel Tyler,
David Hunter, and S. P. Heintzelman. Among the subordinate officers was
Ambrose E. Burnside, who, a year and five months later, was to figure in a
far greater and far more disastrous battle, not many miles from this same
spot; and William T. Sherman, who was to achieve a greater renown in the
coming war.

On the Southern side we find equally striking characters. General Joseph
E. Johnston was not held by Patterson in the Valley and with a portion of
his army had reached Manassas on the afternoon of the 20th. In the Indian
wars of Jackson's time Johnston had served his country; like McDowell and
Beauregard, he had battled at the gates of Mexico; and like the latter he
chose to cast his lot with the fortunes of the South. There, too, was
Longstreet, who after the war was over, was to spend many years in the
service of the country he was now seeking to divide. Most striking of all
was "Stonewall" Jackson, whose brilliant military career was to astonish
the world.

The Union plan for this fateful July day was that Tyler should lead his
division westward by way of the Warrenton turnpike to a stone bridge that
crossed Bull Run, about four miles from Centreville. At the same time the
main army under Hunter and Heintzelman was to make a detour of several
miles northward through a dense forest to a ford of Bull Run, known as
Sudley's Ford. Here they were to cross the stream, march down its right
bank and, while Tyler guarded the Stone Bridge, engage the foe on the west
side of Bull Run. The plan of the battle was admirably drawn, but the
march around to Sudley's Ford was slower than had been expected, and it
was ten o'clock before the main army reached the point west of the Stone
Bridge. While the Federals were making their plans to attack the
Confederate left wing, Generals Beauregard and Johnston were planning an
aggressive movement against the left wing of the Federal army. They were
to cross Bull Run by fords several miles below the Stone Bridge and attack
the Northern troops on the weaker wing of the Union force in an effort to
rout them before relief could be sent from the Federal right. The
Confederate attack was planned to take place a few hours later than
McDowell had decided to move. The Southern troops were preparing to cross
the stream when the boom of cannon at the Stone Bridge told that the
Federals had taken the aggressive and that the weak Confederate left was
in danger of being overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the Union right
wing. Orders countermanding the command to attack were quickly sent to the
Southerners at the lower fords, and preparations were hurriedly made to
repulse the attack of the Northern force.

Tyler reached the Stone Bridge before six in the morning and opened fire
on a Confederate force under Colonel Evans on the other side of the run.
For some time this was kept up, and Evans was much puzzled that the
Federals did not attempt to cross the bridge; they merely kept up a
desultory fire. The failure of the Union troops to advance led Evans to
believe that Tyler's attack was only a feint and that the real attacking
force would approach from some other direction. This belief was confirmed
when he descried a lengthening line of dust above the tree-tops far in the
distance, north of the Warrenton turnpike. Evans was now convinced (and he
was right) that the main Union army was marching to Sudley's Ford, three
miles above the Stone Bridge, and would reach the field from that
direction. Quickly then he turned about with six companies of brave South
Carolinians and a battalion of "Louisiana Tigers" and posted them on a
plateau overlooking the valley of Young's Branch, a small tributary of
Bull Run. Here, not far from the Matthews and Carter houses, he awaited
the coming of the Federals.

His force was stationed overlooking the Sudley and Newmarket road and an
open field through which the Federal troops would be forced to pass to
reach the higher ground held by the Confederates. Two 6-pound howitzers
were placed to sweep the field of approach, one at each end of Evans' line
of defense.

With guns loaded, and howitzers ready to pour their charges into an
advancing force, the Southerners stood and watched the line of dust that
arose above the trees. It moved slowly to the westward. Then, where the
Sudley road turns to the southward to cross the Sudley Ford, it followed
the trend of the highway. It reached the crossing of Bull Run, and the
line of dust faded as the Federals spread into battle-line behind the
expanse of woodland that hid each column from the other's view.

It was nearing ten o'clock. The rays of the summer sun were beating in
sweltering heat upon the waiting troops. Those who could find shelter
beneath the trees moved from their places into the shade. Heavy banks of
storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, giving promise of relief from
oppressive warmth. A silence settled over the ranks of the Confederates as
they watched the edge of the woodland for the first appearance of the
approaching troops.

Suddenly there was a glimmer of the sunlight reflected from burnished
steel among the trees. Then, in open battle array, the Federal advance
guard, under the command of Colonel Burnside, emerged from the wood on a
neighboring hill, and for the first time in the nation's history two
hostile American armies faced each other in battle array. At Fort Sumter
only the stone walls had suffered; not a drop of human blood was shed. But
here was to be a gigantic conflict, and thousands of people believed that
here on this field on this day would be decided the fate of the Union and
the fate of the Confederacy. The whole country awaited in breathless
expectancy the news of this initial conflict, to become known as the
battle of Bull Run.

With little delay the battle opened. The Federals had a clear advantage in
numbers as their outlying forces came up; but they met with a brave
resistance. General Bee, of South Carolina, with two brigades, crossed a
valley to the south of Evans in the face of a heavy artillery fire to a
point within one hundred yards of the Federal lines. At this short range
thousands of shots were fired and many brave men and boys were stretched
upon the green. The outcome at this point was uncertain until the Union
forces were joined by Heintzelman with heavy reënforcements and by Sherman
with a portion of Tyler's division. Bee could now do nothing but
withdraw, and in doing so his men fell into great disorder. Cheer after
cheer arose from the ranks of the Union army.

Meanwhile, Generals Beauregard and Johnston had remained at the right of
their line, near Manassas, nearly four miles from the scene of action,
still determined to press their attack on the Federal left if the
opportunity was offered. As the morning passed and the sounds of conflict
became louder and extended further to the westward, it became evident to
the Confederate leaders that the Federals were massing all their strength
in an effort to crush the left of the Southern army. Plans for an
aggressive movement were then abandoned, the commanders withdrawing all
their reserve forces from the positions where they had been held to follow
up the Confederate attack, and sending them to the support of the small
force that was holding back the Federals. After dispatching troops to
threaten the Union left, Johnston and Beauregard galloped at full speed to
the scene of the battle. They arrived about noon--at the moment when Bee's
brigade was fleeing across the valley from the hail of Federal bullets. As
the frightened men were running in the utmost disorder, General Bee,
seeing Thomas J. Jackson's brigade calmly waiting the onset, exclaimed to
his men, "Look at Jackson; there he stands like a stone wall!" The
expression spread to the army and to the world, and that invincible
soldier has since been known as "Stonewall" Jackson.

Beauregard and Johnston found it a herculean task to rally the fleeing men
and re-form the lines, but they succeeded at length; the battle was
renewed, and from noon till nearly three o'clock it raged with greater
fury than before. The fight was chiefly for the possession of the plateau
called the Henry hill. Up and down the slopes the two armies surged in the
broiling sun. Beauregard, like McDowell on the other side, led his men in
the thickest of the fight. A bursting shell killed his horse under him and
tore the heel from his boot; he mounted another horse and continued the
battle. At half-past two the Confederates had been entirely driven from
the plateau, had been pressed back for a mile and a half, and for the
second time within three or four hours the Union troops raised the shout
of victory.

At three o'clock, while McDowell and his men were congratulating
themselves on having won the battle, a faint cheering was heard from a
Confederate army far across the hills. It grew louder and nearer, and
presently the gray lines were seen marching gallantly back toward the
scene of the battle from which they had been driven. The thrilling cry
then passed through the Union ranks, "Johnston has come, Johnston has
come!" and there was terror in the cry. They did not know that Johnston,
with two-thirds of his army, had arrived the day before; but it was true
that the remaining third, twenty-three hundred fresh troops, had reached
Manassas at noon by rail, and after a forced march of three hours, under
the command of Kirby Smith, had just united with the army of Beauregard.
It was this that caused the cheering and determined Beauregard to make
another attack on the Henry plateau.

The Union men had fought valiantly in this, their first battle, untrained
and unused to warfare as they were; they had braved the hail of lead and
of bursting shells; they had witnessed their comrades, their friends, and
neighbors fall at their feet to rise no more. They nevertheless rejoiced
in their success. But with the long march and the five hours' fighting in
the scorching July sun they were weary to exhaustion, and when they saw
the Confederates again approaching, reënforced with fresh troops, their
courage failed and they began to retreat down the hill. With waving colors
the Confederates pressed on, opening a volley of musketry on the
retreating Federals, and following it with another and another.

In vain McDowell and his officers attempted to rally his panic-stricken
men and re-form his lines. Only the regulars, about sixteen hundred in
number, were subject to the orders of their superiors, and they made a
brave stand against the oncoming foe while they covered the retreat of the
disorganized mass. On the Henry hill were the two powerful batteries of
Griffin and Ricketts. They had done most valiant service while the tide of
battle ebbed and flowed. But at last their hour had come. A Confederate
regiment, dashing from a neighboring hill, poured in a deadly volley, cut
down the cannoneers almost to a man, killed their horses, and captured the
guns. A few minutes later General Beauregard rode up to the spot and
noticed Captain Ricketts lying on the ground, desperately wounded. The two
men had been friends in the years gone by. Beauregard, recognizing his old
friend, asked him if he could be of any service. He then sent his own
surgeons to care for the wounded captain and detailed one of his staff to
make him comfortable when he was carried to Richmond as a prisoner of war.

There is little more to relate of the battle of Bull Run. In his report
McDowell stated that after providing for the protection of the retreat
from the battlefield by Porter's and Blenker's volunteer brigades, he took
command in person of the force previously stationed for holding the road
back to Centreville and made such disposition "as would best serve to
check the enemy," at the Centreville ridge. Some hundreds of civilians,
members of Congress and others, had come out from Washington to witness a
victory for the Grand Army, and they saw that army scattered in wild
flight to escape an imaginary pursuer. The Confederates made no serious
effort to follow after them, for the routed Federals had destroyed the
Stone Bridge as they passed it in their retreat, and had obstructed the
other avenues of pursuit. As darkness settled over the field the
Confederates returned to their camps.

McDowell made a desperate effort to check and reorganize his army at
Centreville, but he was powerless. The troops refused to listen to any
commands; they rushed on and great numbers of them traveled all night,
reaching Washington in the morning.

These raw troops had now received their first baptism of blood and fire.
Nearly five hundred of their number were left dead on the field of battle,
and fourteen hundred were wounded. The captured and missing brought the
Federal loss to nearly three thousand men. The Confederate loss in killed,
wounded, and missing was less than two thousand. The Federal forces
engaged were nearly nineteen thousand, while the Confederates had more
than eighteen thousand men on the field.

The Confederate victory at Bull Run did the South great injury in that it
led vast numbers to believe the war was over and that the South had won.
Many soldiers went home in this belief, and for months thereafter it was
not easy to recruit the Southern armies. The North, on the other hand, was
taught a needed lesson--was awakened to a sense of the magnitude of the
task before it.

The first great battle of the American Civil War brought joy to the
Confederacy and grief to the States of the North. As the Federal troops
marched into Washington through a drenching downpour of rain, on July 22d,
the North was shrouded in gloom. But the defeated army had not lost its
courage. The remnants of the shattered forces were gathered, and from the
fragments a mightier host was to be rallied under the Stars and Stripes to
meet the now victorious foe on future battle-grounds.


The man who planned the battle of Bull Run for the Northern Army was
Brigadier-General Irvin McDowell, then in command of the forces before
Washington. When assured that Patterson would hold Johnston in the
Shenandoah, he undertook to advance with his raw and unorganized troops on
Beauregard at Manassas. The plan for the battle which he adopted on the
night of July 18th was, according to General Sherman, one of the best
formed during the entire war. But it failed because, even before he began
his attack, Johnston with a good part of his troops had already joined
Beauregard at Manassas. After the defeat McDowell was placed in charge of
the defenses of Washington on the Virginia side of the Potomac. This
picture was taken the next year at General Robert E. Lee's former home in

[Illustration: G. T. Beauregard

_Copyright by Review of Reviews Co._]


Born in New Orleans on May 28, 1818, the Southern leader upon whom at
first all eyes were turned, Pierre Gustave Toutant Beauregard, was
graduated from the U. S. Military Academy in 1838. Gallant and dashing, he
won the brevets of Captain and Major in the war with Mexico and was
wounded at Chapultepec. Early in '61 he resigned from the army, and joined
the Confederacy, being in command of the Confederate forces in the firing
on Fort Sumter in April. Owing to his forceful personality, he became a
popular and noted leader in the Confederacy. After the Union defeat at
Manassas, he was looked upon as the coming Napoleon. He was confirmed as
Major-General in the Confederate army on July 30, 1861, but he had held
the provisional rank of Brigadier-General since February 20th, before a
shot was fired. After his promotion to Major-General, he commanded the
Army of the Mississippi under General A. S. Johnston, whom he succeeded at
Shiloh. He defended Charleston, S. C., in 1862-3 and afterward commanded
the Department of North Carolina and Southeastern Virginia. He died at New
Orleans in 1893.


The First Minnesota, a regiment that fought in the flanking column at Bull
Run. On April 14, 1861, the day after Sumter's surrender, the Federal
Government received an offer of a volunteer regiment from Minnesota, and
on April 29, the First Minnesota was mustered into service by Lieutenant
W. W. Sanders, U. S. A. Under Colonel William O. Gorman the regiment
proceeded to Washington in June and, attached to Franklin's Brigade,
Heintzelman's Division of McDowell's Army, at Bull Run gave an excellent
account of itself, finally retiring from the field in good order. A record
for conspicuous bravery was sustained by the First Minnesota throughout
the war, notably its famous charge on the field of Gettysburg, July 2,

The photograph was taken just before the regiment left Fort Snelling in
1861. In the front line the first from the left is Lieut. Colonel Stephen
Miller, the next is Colonel Gorman. On his left hand is Major Dyke and
next to him is Adjutant W. B. Leach. Between the last two and behind them
is Captain William Colvill, while at the left hand of Adjutant Leach is
Captain Mark Downie. At the extreme right of the picture stands General J.
B. Sanborn with Lieutenant Sanders (mustering officer) on his right hand,
and on Sanders' right is the Honorable Morton S. Wilkinson. Colvill, as
Colonel, led the regiment in its Gettysburg charge.



Mrs. Rose O'Neal Greenhow, a zealous and trusted friend of the
Confederacy, lived in Washington at the opening of the war. It was she
who, on July 16, 1861, sent the famous cipher message to Beauregard,
"Order issued for McDowell to move on Manassas to-night." Acting on this,
Beauregard promptly arranged his army for the expected attack, while
Johnston and "Stonewall" Jackson hastened from the Valley to aid in
repelling the Federal advance. Mrs. Greenhow's secret-service work was cut
short on August 26th, when Allan Pinkerton, the Federal detective,
arrested her and put her under military guard at her home, 398 Sixteenth
Street. Afterward she was transferred to the Old Capitol Prison. She
remained there until April, 1862. On June 2nd, after pledging her word not
to come north of the Potomac until the war was over, Mrs. Greenhow was
escorted beyond the lines of the Union army and set at liberty. It was
later discovered that she had, even while in prison, corresponded
extensively with Colonel Thomas Jordan, of General Beauregard's staff.


When Lincoln issued his call for volunteers on the evacuation of Sumter,
Rhode Island was one of the first to respond. We here see Company "D" of
the First Regiment (organized April, 1861), as it looked during its
encampment at Camp Sprague, Washington, from April 24th to July 16th,
1861. The care-free faces of the men lack all the gravity of veterans. In
the famous first battle of the war, the regiment was in Burnside's Brigade
of Hunter's Division, which marched some miles to the north, crossed Bull
Run at Sudley Ford, met the Confederates north of Young's Branch, and
drove them south across the stream to the Henry house plateau. Later it
yielded to the panic which seized upon the Union army. On August 2, 1861,
Company "D" closed its brief career in the conflict that was to fill four
years with continuous combat.




The faces of these untried soldiers from New Jersey and Vermont show the
enthusiasm with which men flocked from every state to form an army for the
Union. Nor was that enthusiasm chilled by the long tedious unfamiliar
beating into shape that McClellan was giving them in '61. War's tedious
rudiments had to be learned, but when the time came for fighting, fighting
qualities were not lacking and our citizen soldiers gave an account of
themselves that startled the world. The Green Mountain Boys that first
came to Washington were among the troops that made the first warlike move
from the city to extend the Federal lines into Virginia. It was on these
advanced defences of the Capital that a Green Mountain Boy was found one
night asleep on post. His life was forfeit, but the great heart of Father
Abraham interposed. Lincoln knew the stuff of which these country lads
were made, and this one a few months later on the battlefield nobly laid
down the life he owed to his Commander-in-Chief. Vermont was lavish of her
sons and sent 35,262, nearly 60 per cent. of her male population between
the ages of 18 and 45, to the nation's aid. The State of New Jersey sent
76,814 men, 61.2 per cent. of her military population. The first raw New
Jersey soldiers in Washington were among the troops that occupied
Arlington Heights, one of the advance positions in the defences. About
one-eighth of New Jersey's troops laid down their lives for their country,
while nearly one-fourth of the Vermonters that went to the War never



[Illustration: EVE OF THE CONFLICT.]

Stone Church, Centreville, Virginia.--Past this little stone church on the
night of July 20, 1861, and long into the morning of the twenty-first
marched lines of hurrying troops. Their blue uniforms were new, their
muskets bright and polished, and though some faces were pale their spirits
were elated, for after their short training they were going to take part,
for the first time, in the great game of war. It was the first move of the
citizen soldier of the North toward actual conflict. Not one knew exactly
what lay before him. The men were mostly from New England and the Middle
States. They had left desk and shop and farm and forge, and with the
thought in their minds that the war would last for three months the
majority had been mustered in. Only the very wise and farseeing had
prophesied the immensity of the struggle, and these were regarded as
extremists. Their ideas were laughed at. So on they went in long lines
down the road in the darkness of the night, chattering, laughing and
talking carelessly, hardly realizing in the contagion of their patriotic
ardor the grim meaning of real war. The battle had been well planned, but
who had had the experience, even among the leaders, to be sure of the
details and the absolute carrying out of orders? With the exception of the
veterans of the Mexican War, who were regulars, there was not one who had
ever maneuvered a thousand men in the field. A lesson lay before them and
it was soon to come. The surprising battle that opened early in the
morning, and whose results spread such consternation through the North,
was really the result of popular clamor. The press and the politicians
demanded action, and throughout the South the same confident and reckless
spirit prevailed, the same urging to see something done.


Robinson House, Bull Run.--"Stonewall" Jackson won his name near this
house early in the afternoon of July 21st. Meeting General Bee's troops
retreating in increasing disorder, he advanced with a battery to the ridge
behind the Robinson House and held the position until Bee's troops had
rallied in his rear. "Look at Jackson standing there like a stone wall,"
was the sentence that gave birth to his historic nickname. It was General
Bee who uttered these words, just before he fell, adding, "Rally on the


Center of Battle of Morning--July 21, 1861.--North of this house, about a
mile, the Confederate Colonel Evans met the columns of Burnside and Porter
in their advance south from Sudley Ford. Though reinforced by General Bee,
he was driven back at noon to this house in the valley near Young's
Branch. Here a vigorous Union charge swept the whole battle to the hill
south of the stream. General Bee sent for reinforcements, saying that
unless he could be supported "all was lost."


Inside Castle Pinckney, Charleston Harbor, August, 1861.--In these
hitherto unpublished Confederate photographs we see one of the earliest
volunteer military organizations of South Carolina and some of the first
Federal prisoners taken in the war. The Charleston Zouave Cadets were
organized in the summer of 1860, and were recruited from among the
patriotic young men of Charleston. We see in the picture how very young
they were. The company first went into active service on Morris Island,
January 1, 1861, and was there on the 9th when the guns of the battery
turned back the _Star of the West_ arriving with reinforcements for
Sumter. The company was also stationed on Sullivan's Island during the
bombardment of Sumter, April 12-13, 1861. After the first fateful clash at
Bull Run, July 21, 1861, had taught the North that the war was on in
earnest, a number of Federal prisoners were brought to Charleston and
placed for safe-keeping in Castle Pinckney, then garrisoned by the
Charleston Zouave Cadets. To break the monotony of guard duty Captain
Chichester, some time in August, engaged a photographer to take some
pictures about the fort showing his men. Gray uniforms with red stripes,
red fatigue caps, and white cross belts were a novelty. The casemates of
the fort had been fitted up with bunks and doors as sleeping quarters for
the prisoners. Casemate No. 1 was occupied by prisoners from the 11th New
York Zouaves, who had been recruited almost entirely from the New York
Fire Department. The smaller picture is a nearer view of their quarters,
over which they have placed the sign "Hotel de Zouave." We see them still
wearing the uniform of the battlefield: wide dark-blue trousers with socks
covering the bottoms, red flannel shirts with the silver badge of the New
York Fire Department, blue jackets elaborately trimmed with braid, red fez
caps with blue tassels, and a blue sash around the waist. Their regiment,
the famous "Ellsworth's Zouaves," was posted at Bull Run as a support for
Pickett's and Griffin's Batteries during the fierce fighting of the
afternoon on the Henry House hill. They gave way before the charge of the
Confederates, leaving 48 dead and 75 wounded on the field. About 65 of
them were taken prisoners, some of whom we see here a month after the
battle. The following October the prisoners were exchanged. At the
beginning of the war the possession of prisoners did not mean as much to
the South as it did later in the struggle, when exchanges became almost
the last resource for recruiting the dwindling ranks. Almost every
Southerner capable of bearing arms had already joined the colors.




There is nothing to suggest military brilliancy about this squad.
Attitudes are as prosaic as uniforms are unpicturesque. The only man
standing with military correctness is the officer at the left-hand end.
But this was the material out of which was developed the soldier who could
average sixteen miles a day for weeks on end, and do, on occasion, his
thirty miles through Virginia mud and his forty miles over a hard
Pennsylvania highway. Sixteen miles a day does not seem far to a single
pedestrian, but marching with a regiment bears but little relation to a
solitary stroll along a sunny road. It is a far different matter to trudge
along carrying a heavy burden, choked by the dust kicked up by hundreds of
men tramping along in front, and sweltering in the sun--or trudge still
more drearily along in a pelting rain which added pounds to a soaked and
clinging uniform, and caused the soldiers to slip and stagger in the mud.




Along this sloping hillside, well suited for a camp, we see a Federal
regiment at its full strength, before bullets and sickness had lowered its
numbers to a mere skeleton of its former self. The band is out in front,
the men are standing at "shoulder arms;" the Colonel and his Major and
Adjutant, mounted on their sleek, well-fed horses, are grouped at one
side, conscious that the eye of the camera is upon them. There is an old
adage among military men that "a straight shot takes the best." When a
freshly joined regiment, recruited to its full strength, reached the army
corps to which it had been assigned and which had been for a long time
actively engaged, it caused comment that well may be understood. "Hello,
here comes a new brigade!" cried a veteran of the Potomac who had seen
eight months' continuous service, calling the attention of a companion to
a new regiment just marching into camp. "Brigade!" exclaimed the other,
"I'll bet my hat it's a division!" There are instances in plenty where a
company commander found himself at the head of less than a score of men;
where regiments that had started a 1,000 strong could muster but some 200
odd, and where, in a single action, the loss in killed, wounded and
missing was over sixty per cent. of those engaged. We begin to understand
what war is when we stop to think of this.

[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF SHILOH.

_Painted by Paul Wilhelmi._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    By this brilliant and important victory Grant's fame sprang suddenly
    into full and universal recognition. President Lincoln nominated him
    major-general of volunteers, and the Senate at once confirmed the
    appointment. The whole military service felt the inspiriting
    event.--_Nicolay and Hay, in "Life of Lincoln."_

The grasp of a great section of western Kentucky and Tennessee by the
Northern armies, the capture of a stronghold that was thought impregnable,
the forced surrender of a great army, and the bringing into public notice
of a new commander who was destined to outshine all his fellows--these
were the achievements of the short, vigorous campaign of Fort Donelson.

There were two great battle-grounds of the Civil War, nearly a thousand
miles apart--Virginia and the valley of the great river that divides the
continent--and the two definite objects of the Northern armies during the
first half of the war period were to capture Richmond and to open the
Mississippi. All other movements and engagements were subordinate to the
dramas of these two great theaters, incidental and contributory. The
South, on the other hand, except for the early threatening of Washington,
the Gettysburg campaign, the raid of Morgan in Ohio, and the expeditions
of Bragg and Hood into Kentucky and Tennessee, was on the defensive from
the beginning of the war to the end.

In the East after the initial engagement at Bull Run "all was quiet along
the Potomac" for some months. McClellan had loomed large as the rising
hero of the war; but McClellan did not move with the celerity that was
expected of him; the North became impatient and demanded that something
be done. But while the public was still waiting there were two occurrences
in the West that riveted the attention of the nation, sending a thrill of
gladness through the North and a wave of depression over the Southland.
These were the fall of Fort Henry and of Fort Donelson.

After Missouri had been saved to the Union in spite of the disaster at
Wilson's Creek in August, 1861, a Union army slowly gathered in southern
Illinois. Its purpose was to dispute with the Confederates their hold on
Kentucky, which had not seceded, and to regain control of the Mississippi.
To secure the latter end a flank movement was decided upon--to open the
mighty river by moving up the Cumberland and Tennessee--the greatest
flanking movement in the history of warfare. It began at Fort Henry and
ended at Vicksburg, covered a year and five months, and cost tens of
thousands of human lives and millions of dollars' worth of property--but
it was successful.

Eastern Kentucky, in the early days of 1862, was also in considerable
ferment. Colonel James A. Garfield had driven the Confederate commander,
General Humphrey Marshall, and a superior force into the Cumberland
Mountains, after a series of slight encounters, terminating at Paintsville
on the Big Sandy River, on January 10th. But one later event gave great
encouragement to the North. It was the first substantial victory for the
Union arms. General Zollicoffer held the extreme Confederate right at
Cumberland Gap and he now joined General George B. Crittenden near Mill
Springs in central Kentucky. General Buell, in charge of the Army of the
Ohio, had placed General George H. Thomas at Lebanon, and the latter
promptly moved against this threatening Confederate force. A sharp
engagement took place at Logan's Cross Roads near Mill Springs on January
19th. The Confederate army was utterly routed and Zollicoffer was killed.
The Union loss was about two hundred and sixty, and the Confederate over
twice that number. It was not a great battle, but its effect on the North
was most stimulating, and the people first learned to appreciate the
abilities of their great general, George H. Thomas.

It was now February, 1862. General U. S. Grant was in command of the Union
forces in western Kentucky and Tennessee. The opposing commander was
Albert Sidney Johnston, then reputed the ablest general of the South. At
Bowling Green, Kentucky, he had thirty thousand men. Believing, perhaps,
that he could not hold Kentucky, he determined to save Tennessee for the
South and took his stand at Nashville.

On February 2d, 1862, General Grant left Cairo with his army of seventeen
thousand men and on transports moved up the Ohio and the Tennessee to
attack Fort Henry. Accompanying him was Flag-Officer Foote with his fleet
of seven gunboats, four of them ironclads.

Fort Henry was garrisoned by an army of about three thousand men under the
command of General Lloyd Tilghman, a brave officer who was destined to
give his life for the Confederate cause, the following year, near
Vicksburg. It covered about three acres and mounted seventeen heavy guns.
Grant's plan of attack was to land his army four miles below the fort, to
move across the country and seize the road leading to Fort Donelson, while
Foote should move up the river with his fleet and turn his guns on the
Confederate batteries.

On February 6th, Foote formed his vessels into two lines, the
ironclads--the _Cincinnati_, the _Carondelet_, the _Essex_, and the _St.
Louis_--forming a front rank. Slowly and cautiously he approached the
fort, firing as he went, the guns on the parapet answering those of the
fleet. Several of the Confederate guns were disabled. The fleet was yet
unhurt when the first hour had passed. Then a 24-pound shot struck the
_Essex_, crashed through her side and penetrated her boiler, instantly
killing both her pilots and flooding the vessel from stem to stern with
scalding steam. The _Essex_, wholly disabled, drifted down stream, while
her companion ships continued their advance and increased their fire.

Presently, a sound exceeding the roar of cannon was heard above the
tumult. A great gun in the fort had exploded, killing or disabling every
man who served it. A great 10-inch columbiad was also destroyed. Tilghman,
seeing that he had no hope of holding the fort, decided to save his army
by sending it to Fort Donelson, on the Cumberland River. This he did,
reserving fewer than a hundred men to work the guns. He then raised the
white flag and surrendered the seventy-eight that remained. Grant had
failed to reach the road to Fort Donelson until the Confederates had
escaped. The Southerners hastened across the country and added their
numbers to the defenders of Donelson--and by so doing they deferred
surrender for ten days.

Fort Donelson was a fortified enclosure of a hundred acres that crowned a
plateau on the Cumberland River. It was just south of the boundary between
Kentucky and Tennessee and close by the little village of Dover,
consisting of a court-house, a two-story tavern, and a few houses
scattered about. Beneath the bluff and on the river bank were two powerful
batteries commanding the approach to the river. Outside the fort and
stretching far along the ridges that enclosed it were rifle-pits, lines of
logs covered with yellow clay. Farther beyond, the hillsides were covered
with felled trees whose interlacing branches were supposed to render the
approach of the foe impossible under fire.

At this moment Donelson was held by eighteen thousand men under the
command of General John B. Floyd, late Secretary of War in the cabinet of
Buchanan. Next to him were Gideon J. Pillow and Simon B. Buckner. The
Union army under Grant was divided into three parts under the respective
commands of Charles F. Smith, a veteran of the regular army; John A.
McClernand, an Illinois lawyer and member of Congress, and Lew Wallace,
the future author of "Ben Hur."

With waving banners the divisions of Smith and McClernand marched across
country on February 12th, arriving at noon and encircling the doomed fort
ere nightfall. Smith was stationed on the left and McClernand on the
extreme right, near the village of Dover. This left an open space in the
center, to be filled by Lew Wallace, who arrived with his division the
next day. On the 13th there was a continuous bombardment from morning till
night, punctuated by the sharp crack of the sharpshooter's rifle.

The chief action of the day that involved the infantry was an attempt to
capture a battery on a hill, near the center of the Confederate line of
battle, known as Maney's Battery, commanded by Captain Maney, of
Tennessee. This battery had annoyed McClernand greatly, and he delegated
his third brigade to capture it. The charge was led by Colonel Morrison of
Illinois, and a braver one never was made throughout the whole period of
the war. The men who made it were chiefly youths from the farms and
workshops of Illinois. With no apparent thought of danger they sallied
forth, determined at all hazards to capture the battery on the hill, which
stood out in relief against the sky. As they ran up the hill, firing as
they went, their numbers were rapidly thinned by the terrific cross-fire
from this battery and two others on adjoining hills. Still the survivors
pushed on and their deadly fire thinned the ranks of the men at the
battery. At length when they came within forty yards of the goal a long
line of Confederate musketry beside the battery suddenly burst into flame
and a storm of bullets cut down the brave boys of Illinois, with fearful
slaughter. Even then they stood for fifteen minutes, returning volley for
volley, before retreating. Reaching the foot of the hill, they rallied
under the Stars and Stripes, and returned to the assault. Even a third
time they charged, but the dry leaves on the ground now caught fire, the
smoke stifled them, and they had to retreat. As they returned down the
hill, Lew Wallace tells us, "their ears and souls were riven with the
shrieks of their wounded comrades, upon whom the flames crept and
smothered and charred where they lay."

Thus ended the 13th of February. That night the river gunboats, six in
number, four of them ironclads, under the command of Andrew H. Foote,
arrived. Grant had sent them down the Tennessee to the Ohio and up the
Cumberland, to support his army at Fort Donelson. On the 14th, about three
in the afternoon, Foote steamed with his four ironclads to a point in the
river within four hundred yards of the two powerful batteries on the river
bank under the fort and opened fire with his cannon while continuing to
advance. The reply from the Confederate batteries was terrific and many of
their shots struck home. In a short time the decks of the vessels were
slippery with human blood. Foote himself was severely wounded. At length a
solid shot struck the pilot house of the flagship and tore away the pilot
wheel. At almost the same moment another gunboat was disabled. The two
vessels, one of which had been struck fifty-nine times, could no longer be
managed; they turned about with the eddies of the river and floated down
with the current. The others followed.

The Confederates raised a wild shout of joy at this, their second victory
since the coming of the Union army. But what will be the story of the
morrow? With the reënforcements brought by Foote, Lew Wallace's division,
Grant's army was now swelled to twenty-seven thousand, and in spite of the
initial repulse the Federals felt confident of ultimate victory. But a
dreary night was before them. The springlike weather had changed. All that
fearful night of February 14th there was a fierce, pitiless wind with
driving sleet and snow. Thousands of the men, weary of the burden of their
overcoats and blankets during the warm preceding days, had thrown them
away. Now they spent the night lying behind logs or in ditches or wherever
they could find a little protection from the wintry blasts. General Floyd,
knowing that Grant's army was much stronger than his own, decided, after
consulting with Pillow and Buckner, to attack the Union right at dawn on
the 15th.

The night was spent in preparing for this, and in the morning Pillow with
ten thousand men fell upon McClernand, and Buckner soon joined him with an
additional force. Toward noon many of McClernand's men ran short of powder
and he was forced to recede from his position. Pillow seems then to have
lost his head. He felt that the whole Union army was defeated, and though
the road to Nashville was open, the Confederates made no attempt to
escape. Just then General Grant rode upon the scene. He had been absent
all morning down the river consulting Foote, not knowing that the
Confederates had planned an escape. This moment, says Lew Wallace, was the
crisis in the life of Grant.

Hearing the disastrous news, his face flushed for a moment; he crushed
some papers in his hand. Next instant he was calm, and said in his
ordinary tone, to McClernand and Wallace, "Gentlemen, the position on the
right must be retaken." Then he galloped away to General Smith. In a short
time the Union lines were in motion. General Smith made a grand assault on
the Confederate outworks and rifle-pits. When his lines hesitated Smith
waved his cap on the point of his sword and rode in front, up the hill, in
the hottest fire of the foe, toward the rifle-pits--and they were carried.
At the same moment Lew Wallace was leading his division up another slope
with equal gallantry. Here again the Confederates retired, and the road to
Nashville was no longer open. Furthermore, Smith held a position from
which he could shell the fort on the inside, and nothing was left to the
inmates but surrender or slaughter on the morrow.

A council was held by Floyd, Pillow, and Buckner. Buckner, who was a
master in the art of warfare, declared that he could not hold his position
for half an hour in the morning. The situation was hopeless. Floyd was
under indictment at Washington for maladministration in the Buchanan
cabinet. He declared that he must not be taken, and that with his
Virginia troops he would escape on two little boats that were to arrive
from Nashville in the morning. He passed the command to Pillow, and
Pillow, declaring that he too would escape, passed it on to Buckner. Floyd
and Pillow with their men made good their escape; so did Colonel Forrest,
the cavalry leader, and his mounted force.

In the early morning Buckner sent a note to Grant offering to capitulate.
The answer is well known. Grant demanded "unconditional surrender," and
added, "I propose to move immediately on your works." Buckner was too good
a soldier to sacrifice his men in needless slaughter. His men were so worn
with eighty-four hours of fighting and watching that many of them had
fallen asleep while standing in battle-line and under fire. He accepted
the "ungenerous and unchivalrous terms," as he pronounced them, and
surrendered Fort Donelson and the army, consisting of at least fourteen
thousand men, with all its stores of ammunition. The Union loss was over
twenty-eight hundred men. The Confederate loss, killed and wounded, was
about two thousand.

The capture of Fort Donelson did three things. First, it opened up the way
for the Federal army to penetrate the heart of the western South and gave
it control of Kentucky and of western Tennessee. Second, it electrified
the North with confident hopes of ultimate success. It was the first great
victory for the North in the war. Bull Run had been a moral victory to the
South, but the vanquished were weakened scarcely more than the victors. At
Donelson, the victors gained control of an extensive territory and
captured a noble army which could ill be spared by the South and which
could not be replaced. Third, the capture of Donelson forced before the
nation a new man--Ulysses S. Grant.

[Illustration: CAPTAIN CLARK B. LAGOW.]

[Illustration: DR. JAMES SIMONS.]


Few will recognize in this early and unusual photograph the man who at
Appomattox, wore plain fatigue dress in striking contrast with the fully
uniformed Lee. Here Grant appears in his full-dress Brigadier-General's
uniform as he came to Cairo to assume command of a military district
including southern Illinois, September 4, 1861. Grasping at once the
problems of his new post he began the work of reorganization, assisted by
a well-chosen staff. Without waiting for permission from Frémont, his
immediate superior, Commander of the Department of the West, Grant pushed
forward a force and occupied Paducah, Kentucky, before the Confederates,
approaching with the same purpose, could arrive. Grant was impatient to
drive back the Confederate lines in Kentucky and Tennessee and began early
to importune Washington to be allowed to carry out maneuvers. His keen
judgment convinced him that these must quickly be made in order to secure
the advantage in this outlying arena of the war. Captain Rawlins was made
Assistant Adjutant-General by Grant, and lifted from his shoulders much of
the routine of the post. Captain Lagow and Captain Hillyer were two of the
General's aides-de-camp. Dr. James Simons was Medical Director of the



[Illustration: CAPTAIN JOHN A. RAWLINS.]


With his hands thrust in his pockets stands General Grant, next to General
McClernand, who is directly in front of the pillar of the Cairo
post-office. The future military leader had yet his great name to make,
for the photograph of this gathering was taken in September, 1861, and
when, later, the whole world was ringing with his praises the citizens who
chanced to be in the group must have recalled that day with pride. Young
Al Sloo, the postmaster's son, leans against the doorway on Grant's right,
and next to him is Bob Jennings; then comes Dr. Taggart, then Thomas, the
mason, and Jaques, the butcher. On the extreme right, facing the camera,
is young Bill Thomas. Up in the windows sit George Olmstead and Will
Smith. In his shirt sleeves, on General McClernand's left, is C. C.
Davidson. In the group about him are Benjamin Munn, Fred Theobold, John
Maxey, and Phil. Howard. Perhaps these men told their children of the
morning that Grant left his headquarters at the St. Charles Hotel and met
them here. Who knows?


The thousand-ton ironclad _Essex_ received the severest punishment at Fort
Henry. Fighting blood surged in the veins of Commander W. D. Porter, son
of Admiral David Porter and brother of Admiral David D. Porter. The
gunboat which he led into action at Fort Henry was named after the famous
_Essex_ which his father commanded in the War of 1812. Fifteen of the
shots from Fort Henry struck and told upon the _Essex_, the last one
penetrating her armor and piercing her middle boiler. Commander Porter,
standing among his men directing the fight, was terribly scalded by the
escaping steam, as were twenty-seven others. Wrongly suspected of
disloyalty at the outbreak of the war, Commander Porter's conduct during
the struggle gave the lie to such calumny. He recovered after Fort Henry,
and was made Commodore in July, 1862. Again in command of the _Essex_ he
attempted unsuccessfully to destroy the dread Confederate ram _Arkansas_
at Vicksburg on July 22d. Porter and the _Essex_ then joined Farragut's
fleet. His shells helped the Union forces to repulse the Confederates at
Baton Rouge, August 5th, and he witnessed the blowing up of the _Arkansas_
the following day. He died May 1, 1864.

[Illustration: COMMANDER W. D. PORTER.]

[Illustration: THE _ESSEX_ TWO YEARS LATER.]


Here, riding at anchor, lies the flagship of Foote, which opened the
attack on Fort Henry in the first movement to break the backbone of the
Confederacy, and won a victory before the arrival of the army. This
gunboat, the _Cincinnati_, was one of the seven flat-bottom ironclads
built by Captain Eads at Carondelet, Missouri, and Mound City, Illinois,
during the latter half of 1861. When Grant finally obtained permission
from General Halleck to advance the attack upon Fort Henry on the
Tennessee River, near the border of Kentucky, Flag Officer Foote started
up the river, February 2, 1862, convoying the transports, loaded with the
advance detachment of Grant's seventeen thousand troops. Arriving before
Fort Henry on February 6th, the intrepid naval commander at once began the
bombardment with a well-aimed shot from the _Cincinnati_. The eleven heavy
guns of the fort responded in chorus, and an iron rain began to fall with
telling effect upon the _Cincinnati_, the _Essex_, the _Carondelet_, and
the _St. Louis_, which were steaming forward half a mile in advance of the
rear division of the squadron. At a range of 1,700 yards the _Cincinnati_
opened the engagement. After a little over an hour of heavy firing the
colors on Fort Henry were lowered and General Tilghman surrendered it to
Flag-Officer Foote. When General Grant arrived an hour later, Foote turned
over the fort to him and returned to Cairo with his disabled gunboats.

[Illustration: FLAG-OFFICER FOOTE.]


With the shots from the Confederate batteries ringing and bounding off her
iron plates, this gallant gunboat that Foote had chosen for his flagship,
entered the zone of fire at Fort Donelson. In the confined space of her
smoke-filled gun-deck, the river sailors were loading and firing the heavy
broadsides as fast as the great guns could be run out and aimed at the
frowning line of entrenchments on the river bank. From them the
concentrated hail of iron was poured upon her and the marksmanship was
good. Fifty-nine times was this brave vessel struck. But her armored sides
withstood the heavy shocks although the plating, dented and bent, bore
record of each impact. Nearer and nearer grew the forts as up the narrow
channel the flag-ship led the way, the _Louisville_, the _Carondelet_, and
the _Pittsburgh_ belching their fire at the wooded heights, as though
endeavoring to attract the attention of the Confederate gunners to
themselves and save the flag-ship from receiving more than her share. Up
in the pilot-house the brave man who knew the channel stood at the wheel,
his eyes firmly fixed ahead; and on the "texas," as the upper deck was
called, within speaking distance of him, stood Foote himself. A great
shot, aimed accurately as a minie ball, struck the frail pilot-house. It
was as if the vessel's heart was pierced. The wheel was swept away from
the pilot's hand and the brave river guide was hurled into the corner,
mangled, bleeding and soon to die. Flag Officer Foote did not escape. He
fell badly wounded in the leg by a fragment of the shell--a wound from
which he never fully recovered. Helpless now, the current swept the _St.
Louis'_ bow around, and past her consorts that were still fighting, she
drifted down the stream and out of action; later, in convoy of the
_Louisville_, she returned to Cairo, leaving the _Carondelet_ and
_Pittsburgh_ to escort the transports. Meanwhile on shore, Grant was
earning his first laurels as a soldier in a big battle. The disabling of
the gunboats caused the Confederates to make the fatal attack that
resulted so disastrously for them. Assailing Grant's right wing that held
a strong position, on the 15th of February, 19,000 men were hurled against
a force 8,000 greater in number. But the repulse was complete. Shattered
they retreated to their works, and in the morning of the 16th, the
Confederate general, Buckner, surrendered. About 14,000 prisoners were
taken. The Federal loss was nearly 3,000, and that of the Southern cause
about 1,000 less. For the capture of Fort Donelson Grant was made
major-general. The first step to the conquest of the Mississippi had been
achieved. In October, 1862, the river fleet was transferred from the Army
to the Navy Department, and as there was another vessel in the service,
bearing the same name the _St. Louis_ was renamed the _Baron de Kalb_. At
Fort Henry, she went into action lashed to the _Carondelet_ on account of
the narrowness of the stream; and later again, the gallant gunboat won
laurels at Island No. 10, Fort Pillow, Memphis, and Vicksburg.




Lying at anchor in the Ohio River this little wooden gunboat is having the
finishing touches put to her equipment while her officers and men are
impatiently waiting for the opportunity to bring her into action. A
side-wheel river steamer originally, she was purchased at Cincinnati by
Commander John Rodgers in the spring of 1861 and speedily converted into a
gunboat. Her boilers and steam pipes were lowered into the hold and the
oaken bulwarks five inches thick which we see were put on her and pierced
for guns. She got her first taste of fighting when, at Lucas Bend, she
engaged the land batteries and a Confederate gunboat, September 10, 1861.
She was present at Fort Henry in the second division of the attacking
fleet, and also at Fort Donelson.

[Illustration: THE _TYLER_

A sister-ship of the _Conestoga_. She was present both at Fort Henry and
Fort Donelson.]



The Captured Commanders of Forts Henry and Donelson.--It requires as much
moral courage to decide upon a surrender, even when odds are overwhelming,
as it does physical bravery, in maintaining a useless fight to the death.
Brigadier-General Tilghman, who commanded the Confederate Fort Henry on
the Tennessee and General Simon Bolivar Buckner in command of the
Confederate Fort Donelson--a much stronger position on the Cumberland only
a few miles away--were men who possessed this kind of courage. Both had
the misfortune to hold untenable positions. Each displayed generalship and
sagacity and only gave up to the inevitable when holding out meant nothing
but wasted slaughter and the sacrifice of men who had been called upon to
exert every human effort. Fort Henry, on the banks of the Tennessee, was
held by a few thousand men and strongly armed with twenty guns including
one 10-inch Columbiad. But on the 6th of February it fairly lay in the
possession of the Federals before a shot had actually been fired, for
Grant with 17,000 men had gained the rear of the fortification after his
move from Cairo on the 30th of the previous month. The actual reduction of
the fort was left to the gunboat flotilla under Flag Officer Foote, whose
heavy bombardment began early in the morning. General Tilghman had seen
from the first that the position could not be held. He was trapped on all
sides, but he would not give way without a display of resistance. Before
the firing began, he had sent off most of the garrison and maintained the
unequal combat with the gunboats for an hour and a quarter with less than
a hundred men, of whom he lost twenty-one. Well did this handful serve the
guns on the river bank. One shot struck the gunboat _Essex_, piercing her
boilers, and wounding and scalding twenty-eight men. But at last,
enveloped on all sides, his retreat cut off--the troops who had been
ordered to depart in the morning, some three thousand in number, had
reached Fort Donelson, twelve miles away--General Tilghman hauled down his
flag, surrendering himself and eighty-four men as prisoners of war. Here
we see him--a brave figure of a man--clad in the uniform of a Southern
Colonel. There was never the slightest doubt of his courage or of his
proper discretion in making this surrender. Only for a short time was he
held a prisoner, when he was exchanged and welcomed back with all honor
into the ranks of the Confederacy, and given an important command. He did
not, however, live long to serve his cause, for shortly after rejoining
the army he was killed at the battle of Baker's Creek, Mississippi, on the
16th of May, 1863.

It is not often that on the battlefield ties of friendship are cemented
that last a lifetime, and especially is this so between conqueror and
conquered. Fort Donelson, that was, in a measure, a repetition of Fort
Henry, saw two fighting foes become thus united. It was impossible for the
garrison of Fort Donelson to make its escape after the flotilla of
gunboats had once appeared in the river, although General Floyd, its
senior commander, the former Secretary of War under President Buchanan,
had withdrawn himself from the scene tendering the command to General
Pillow, who in his turn, after escaping with his own brigade, left the
desperate situation to be coped with by General Buckner. Assailed in the
rear by an army that outnumbered the defenders of the fort by nearly eight
thousand and with the formidable gunboats hammering his entrenchments from
the river, Buckner decided to cut his way out in a desperate charge, but
being repulsed, saw his men flung back once more into the fort. There was
nothing for it but to make terms. On February 16th, in a note to Grant he
asked what might be granted him. Here, the coming leader won his nickname
of "Unconditional Surrender" Grant. Buckner was informed that the Federal
army was about to move upon his works. Hurt and smarting under his
position, he sent back a reply that in a few short hours he would,
perhaps, have been willing to recall. Yielding to circumstances he
accepted what he bluntly pronounced, "ungenerous and unchivalrous terms."
But when the capitulation had taken place and nearly fifteen thousand men
had surrendered, a greater number than ever before laid down their arms
upon the continent, Grant was so generous, that then and there began the
friendship that grew as close as if the two men were brothers of the
blood. Most of the prisoners were paroled. Each one was allowed to retain
his personal baggage, and the officers to keep their side arms. Grant had
known Buckner in the Mexican War, and received him after the battle as his
guest. For a short time General Buckner was kept a prisoner at Fort Warren
until he was exchanged. But the friendship between the two leaders
continued. When General Grant, after having been twice President, failed
in his business career, Buckner sent him a check, trusting that it might
be of use in his time of trouble. Grant, shortly before his death, wrote
his old-time comrade and antagonist requesting that Buckner do him the
final honors by becoming one of his pallbearers.



    No Confederate who fought at Shiloh has ever said that he found any
    point on that bloody field easy to assail.--_Colonel William Preston
    Johnston (Son of the Confederate General, Albert Sidney Johnston,
    killed at Shiloh)._

In the history of America many battles had been fought, but the greatest
of them were skirmishes compared with the gigantic conflicts of the Old
World under Marlborough and Napoleon. On the field of Shiloh, for the
first time, two great American armies were to engage in a mighty struggle
that would measure up to the most important in the annals of Europe. And
the pity of it was that the contestants were brethren of the same
household, not hereditary and unrelenting enemies.

At Fort Donelson the western South was not slain--it was only wounded. The
chief commander of that part of the country, Albert Sidney Johnston,
determined to concentrate the scattered forces and to make a desperate
effort to retrieve the disaster of Donelson. He had abandoned Bowling
Green, had given up Nashville, and now decided to collect his troops at
Corinth, Mississippi. Next in command to Johnston was General Beauregard
who fought at Bull Run, and who had come from Virginia to aid Johnston.
There also came Braxton Bragg, whose name had become famous through the
laconic expression, "A little more grape, Captain Bragg," uttered by
Zachary Taylor at Buena Vista; Leonidas Polk who, though a graduate of
West Point, had entered the church and for twenty years before the war had
been Episcopal bishop of Louisiana, and John C. Breckinridge, former Vice
President of the United States. The legions of the South were gathered at
Corinth until, by the 1st of April, 1862, they numbered forty thousand.

Meantime, the Union army had moved southward and was concentrating at
Pittsburg Landing, on the Tennessee River, an obscure stopping place for
boats in southern Tennessee, and some twenty miles northeast from Corinth.
The name means more now than merely a landing place for river craft. It
was clear that two mighty, hostile forces were drawing together and that
ere long there would be a battle of tremendous proportions, such as this
Western hemisphere had not then known.

General Grant had no idea that the Confederates would meet him at
Pittsburg Landing. He believed that they would wait for an attack on their
entrenchments at Corinth. The position his army occupied at the Landing
was a kind of quadrilateral, enclosed on three sides by the river and
several small streams that flow into it. As the early days of April passed
there were ominous rumors of the coming storm; but Grant was so sure that
Johnston would not attack that he spent the night of the 5th of April at
Savannah, some miles down the Tennessee River.

It was Saturday night. For two weeks the Union troops had occupied the
undulating tableland that stretched away from the river at the Landing.
There was the sound of the plashing streams overflowing from recent rains,
there were revelry and mirth around the thousand camp-fires; but there was
no sound to give warning of the coming of forty thousand men, who had for
two days been drawing nearer with a steady tread, and during this night
were deploying around the Union camp, only a mile away. There was nothing
to indicate that the inevitable clash of arms was but a few hours in the

At the dawn of day on Sunday, April 6th, magnificent battle-lines, under
the Confederate battle-flag, emerged from the woods on the neighboring
hills within gunshot of the Federal camps. Whether the Union army was
really surprised has been the subject of long controversy, which we need
not enter. Certainly, the attack on it was most sudden, and in
consequence it fought on the defensive and at a disadvantage throughout
the day.

General Hardee's corps, forming the first line of battle, moved against
the outlying division of the Union army, which was commanded by General
Benjamin Prentiss, of West Virginia. Before Prentiss could form his lines
Hardee's shells began bursting around him, but he was soon ready and,
though pressed back for half a mile in the next two or three hours, his
men fought like heroes. Meanwhile the further Confederate advance under
Bragg, Polk, and Breckinridge was extending all along the line in front of
the Federal camps. The second Federal force to encounter the fury of the
oncoming foe was the division of General W. T. Sherman, which was cut to
pieces and disorganized, but only after it had inflicted frightful loss on
the Confederate army.

General Grant, as we have noted, spent the night at Savannah, a town nine
miles by way of the river from Pittsburg Landing. As he sat at breakfast,
he heard the distant boom of cannon and he quickly realized that
Johnston's army had attacked his own at the Landing. Instantly he took a
boat and started for the scene of the conflict. At Crump's Landing, about
half way between the two, General Lew Wallace was stationed with a
division of seven thousand men. As Grant passed Crump's Landing, he met
Wallace and ordered him to be ready for instant marching when he was
called for. When Grant arrived at Pittsburg Landing, about eight o'clock
in the morning, he found a tremendous battle raging, and he spent the day
riding from one division commander to another, giving directions and
cheering them on as best he could.

About two and a half miles from the Landing stood a little log church
among the trees, in which for years the simple folk of the countryside had
been wont to gather for worship every Sunday morning. But on this fateful
Sunday, the demon of war reigned supreme. The little church was known as
Shiloh to all the country around, and it gave its name to the great battle
that raged near it on that memorable day.

General Prentiss had borne the first onset of the morning. He had been
pressed back half a mile. But about nine o'clock, after being reënforced,
he made a stand on a wooded spot with a dense undergrowth, and here he
held his ground for eight long hours, until five in the afternoon, when he
and a large portion of his division were surrounded and compelled to
surrender. Time after time the Confederates rushed upon his position, but
only to be repulsed with fearful slaughter. This spot came to be known as
the "Hornet's Nest." It was not far from here that the Confederates
suffered the irreparable loss of the day. Their noble commander, Albert
Sidney Johnston, received his death wound as he was urging his troops to
force back Hurlbut's men. He was riding in the center of the fight,
cheering his men, when a minie ball cut an artery of his thigh. The wound
was not necessarily fatal. A surgeon could easily have saved him. But he
thought only of victory and continued in the saddle, raising his voice in
encouragement above the din of battle. Presently his voice became faint, a
deadly pallor blanched his cheek. He was lifted from his horse, but it was
too late. In a few minutes the great commander was dead, from loss of

The death of Johnston, in the belief of many, changed the result at Shiloh
and prevented the utter rout or capture of Grant's army. One of Johnston's
subordinates wrote: "Johnston's death was a tremendous catastrophe.
Sometimes the hopes of millions of people depend upon one head and one
arm. The West perished with Albert Sidney Johnston and the Southern
country followed." Jefferson Davis afterward declared that "the fortunes
of a country hung by a single thread on the life that was yielded on the
field of Shiloh."

Beauregard succeeded to the command on the fall of Johnston and the
carnage continued all the day--till darkness was falling over the valleys
and the hills. The final charge of the evening was made by three
Confederate brigades close to the Landing, in the hope of gaining that
important point. But by means of a battery of many guns on the bluff of
Dill's Branch, aided by the gunboats in the river, the charge was
repulsed. Beauregard then gave orders to desist from further attack all
along his lines, to suspend operations till morning. When General Bragg
heard this he was furious with rage. He had counted on making an immediate
grand assault in the darkness, believing that he could capture a large
part of the Federal army.

When the messenger informed him of Beauregard's order, he inquired if he
had already delivered it to the other commanders. "Yes," was the reply.
"If you had not," rejoined the angry Bragg, "I would not obey it. The
battle is lost." But Bragg's fears were not shared by his compatriots.

Further mention is due the two little wooden gunboats, _Tyler_ and
_Lexington_, for their share in the great fight. The _Tyler_ had lain all
day opposite the mouth of Dill's Branch which flowed through a deep,
marshy ravine, into the Tennessee just above the Landing. Her commander,
Lieutenant Gwin, was eager for a part in the battle, and when he saw the
Confederate right pushing its way toward the Landing, he received
permission to open fire. For an hour his guns increased the difficulties
of Jackson's and Chalmers' brigades as they made their way to the
surrounding of Prentiss. Later on the _Lexington_ joined her sister, and
the two vessels gave valuable support to the Union cannon at the edge of
the ravine and to Hurlbut's troops until the contest ended. All that
night, in the downpour of rain, Lieutenant Gwin, at the request of General
Nelson, sent shot crashing through the trees in the direction where the
Confederates had bivouacked. This completely broke the rest of the
exhausted troops, and had a decided effect upon the next day's result.

Southern hopes were high at the close of this first bloody day at Shiloh.
Whatever of victory there was at the end of the day belonged to the
Confederates. They had pressed the Federals back more than a mile and now
occupied their ground and tents of the night before. They had captured
General Prentiss with some thousands of his men as a result of his brave
stand at the "Hornet's Nest."

But their hopes were mingled with grave fears. General Van Dorn with an
army of twenty thousand men was hastening from Arkansas to join the
Confederate forces at Shiloh; but the roads were bad and he was yet far
away. On the other hand, Buell was coming from Nashville to join Grant's
army. Should he arrive during the night, the contest of the next day would
be unequal and the Confederates would risk losing all that they had
gained. Moreover, Beauregard's army, with its long, muddy march from
Corinth and its more than twelve hours' continuous fighting, was worn and
weary almost to exhaustion.

The Union army was stunned and bleeding, but not disabled, at the close of
the first day's battle. Caught unawares, the men had made a noble stand.
Though pressed back from their position and obliged to huddle for the
night around the Landing, while thousands of their comrades had fallen on
the gory field, they had hopes of heavy reënforcements during the night.
And, indeed, early in the evening the cry ran along the Union lines that
Buell's army had come. The advance guard had arrived late in the afternoon
and had assisted Hurlbut in the closing scene on the bluff of Dill's
ravine; others continued to pour in during the night. And, furthermore,
General Lew Wallace's division, though it had taken a wrong road from
Crump's Landing and had not reached the field in time for the fighting of
the 6th, now at last had arrived. Buell and Wallace had brought with them
twenty-five thousand fresh troops to be hurled on the Confederates on the
morning of the 7th. But Van Dorn had not come. The preponderance of
numbers now was with the Union army.

Everyone knew that the battle was not over, that the issue must be
decided on the coming day, and the weary thousands of both sides sank down
on the ground in a drenching rain to get a little rest and to gain a
little strength for the desperate struggle that was sure to come on the

Beauregard rested hopes upon a fresh dispatch announcing that Buell was
delayed and the dreaded junction of two Federal armies therefore
impossible. Meanwhile Grant and Buell were together in Sherman's camp and
it was decided that Buell's troops should attack Beauregard next morning.
One division of Buell stood to arms all night.

At the break of day on Monday, April 7th, all was astir in both camps on
the field of Shiloh, and the dawn was greeted with the roar of cannon. The
troops that Grant now advanced into the contest were all, except about ten
thousand, the fresh recruits that Wallace and Buell had brought, while the
Confederates had not a single company that had not been on the ground the
day before. Some military historians believe that Beauregard would have
won a signal victory if neither army had been reënforced during the night.
But now under the changed conditions the Confederates were at a great
disadvantage, and yet they fought for eight long hours with heroic valor.

The deafening roar of the cannon that characterized the beginning of the
day's battle was followed by the rattle of musketry, so continuous that no
ear could distinguish one shot from another. Nelson's division of Buell's
army was the first to engage the Confederates. Nelson commanded the
Federal left wing, with Hardee and Breckinridge immediately opposed to
him. The Union center was under the command of Generals McCook and
Crittenden; the right wing was commanded by McClernand, with Hurlbut next,
while Sherman and Lew Wallace occupied the extreme right. The Confederate
left wing was commanded by the doughty Bragg and next to him was General

Shiloh Church was again the storm center and in it General Beauregard
made his headquarters. Hour after hour the columns in blue and gray surged
to and fro, first one then the other gaining the advantage and presently
losing it. At times the smoke of burning powder enveloped the whole field
and hid both armies from view. The interesting incidents of this day of
blood would fill a volume. General Hindman of the Southern side had a
novel experience. His horse was struck by a bursting shell and torn to a
thousand fragments. The general, thrown ten feet high, fell to the ground,
but leaped to his feet unhurt and asked for another horse.

Early in the afternoon, Beauregard became convinced that he was fighting a
losing battle and that it would be the part of prudence to withdraw the
army before losing all. He thereupon sent the members of his staff to the
various corps commanders ordering them to prepare to retreat from the
field, at the same time making a show of resuming the offensive. The
retreat was so skilfully made, the front firing-line being kept intact,
that the Federals did not suspect it for some time. Some hours before
nightfall the fighting had ceased. The Federals remained in possession of
the field and the Confederates were wading through the mud on the road to

It was a dreary march for the bleeding and battered Confederate army. An
eye-witness described it in the following language:

"I made a detour from the road on which the army was retreating that I
might travel faster and get ahead of the main body. In this ride of twelve
miles alongside of the routed army, I saw more of human agony and woe than
I trust I will ever again be called upon to witness. The retreating host
wound along a narrow and almost impassable road, extending some seven or
eight miles in length. Here was a line of wagons loaded with wounded,
piled in like bags of grain, groaning and cursing; while the mules plunged
on in mud and water belly-deep, the water sometimes coming into the
wagons. Next came a straggling regiment of infantry, pressing on past the
wagons; then a stretcher borne on the shoulders of four men, carrying a
wounded officer; then soldiers staggering along, with an arm broken and
hanging down, or other fearful wounds, which were enough to destroy life.
And, to add to the horrors of the scene, the elements of heaven marshaled
their forces--a fitting accompaniment of the tempest of human desolation
and passion which was raging. A cold, drizzling rain commenced about
nightfall, and soon came harder and faster, then turned to pitiless,
blinding hail. This storm raged with violence for three hours. I passed
long wagon trains filled with wounded and dying soldiers, without even a
blanket to shelter them from the driving sleet and hail, which fell in
stones as large as partridge eggs, until it lay on the ground two inches

"Some three hundred men died during that awful retreat, and their bodies
were thrown out to make room for others who, although wounded, had
struggled on through the storm, hoping to find shelter, rest, and medical

Four days after the battle, however, Beauregard reported to his
government, "this army is more confident of ultimate success than before
its encounter with the enemy." Addressing the soldiers, he said: "You have
done your duty.... Your countrymen are proud of your deeds on the bloody
field of Shiloh; confident in the ultimate result of your valor."

The news of these two fearful days at Shiloh was astounding to the
American people. Never before on the continent had there been anything
approaching it. Bull Run was a skirmish in comparison with this gigantic
conflict. The losses on each side exceeded ten thousand men. General Grant
tells us that after the second day he saw an open field so covered with
dead that it would have been possible to walk across it in any direction
stepping on dead bodies, without a foot touching the ground. American
valor was tried to the full on both sides at Shiloh, and the record shows
that it was equal to the test.

[Illustration: GENERAL A. S. JOHNSTON, C. S. A.]

A brilliant Southern leader, whose early loss was a hard blow to the
Confederacy, Albert Sidney Johnston was a born fighter with a natural
genius for war. A West Pointer of the Class of '26, he had led a strenuous
and adventurous life. In the early Indian wars, in the border conflicts in
Texas, and in the advance into Mexico, he had always proved his worth, his
bravery and his knowledge as a soldier. At the outbreak of the Civil War
he had already been brevetted Brigadier-General, and had been commander of
the military district of Utah. An ardent Southerner, he made his choice,
dictated by heart and conscience, and the Federal authorities knew the
loss they would sustain and the gain that would be given to the cause of
the Confederacy. In '61 he was assigned to a district including Kentucky
and Tennessee with the rank of General. At once he displayed his gifts as
an organizer, but Shiloh cut short a career that would have led him to a
high place in fame and history. The early Confederate successes of the 6th
of April were due to his leadership. His manner of death and his way of
meeting it attested to his bravery. Struck by a minie ball, he kept in the
saddle, falling exhausted and dying from the loss of blood. His death put
the whole South into mourning.


Southern soldiers in shirtsleeves a few months before they fought bravely
at Shiloh. General Chalmers, waving the flag of this regiment, led it in a
gallant charge on the second day.]

[Illustration: BRIG.-GEN. J. D. WEBSTER]

To no one who was close to him in the stirring scenes of the early
conflict in the West did Grant pay higher tribute than to this veteran of
the Mexican War who was his Chief of Staff. He was a man to be relied upon
in counsel and in emergency, a fact that the coming leader recognized from
the very outset. An artillery officer and engineer, his military training
and practical experience made him a most valuable executive. He had also
the gift of leading men and inspiring confidence. Always cool and
collected in the face of danger, and gifted with a personality that won
friends everywhere, the reports of all of his superiors show the trust and
confidence that were reposed in him. In April, 1861, he had taken charge
of the fortifications at Cairo, Illinois. He was with Grant at Paducah, at
Forts Henry and Donelson, and at Shiloh where he collected the artillery
near the Landing that repelled the final Confederate attack on April 6th.
He remained Chief of Staff until October, 1862. On October 14th, he was
made a Brigadier-General of Volunteers, and was appointed superintendent
of military railroads in the Department of Tennessee. Later he was Chief
of Staff to General Sherman, and again proved his worth when he was with
General Thomas at Hood's defeat before Nashville in December, 1864. On
March 13, 1865, he received the brevet of Major-General of Volunteers.



Some very youthful Louisiana soldiers waiting for their first taste of
battle, a few weeks before Shiloh. These are members of the Washington
Artillery of New Orleans. We see them at Camp Louisiana proudly wearing
their new boots and their uniforms as yet unfaded by the sun. Louisiana
gave liberally of her sons, who distinguished themselves in the fighting
throughout the West. The Fifth Company of the Washington Artillery took
part in the closely contested Battle of Shiloh. The Confederates defeated
Sherman's troops in the early morning, and by night were in possession of
all the Federal camps save one. The Washington Artillery served their guns
handsomely and helped materially in forcing the Federals back to the bank
of the river. The timely arrival of Buell's army the next day at Pittsburg
Landing enabled Grant to recover from the reverses suffered on that bloody
"first day"--Sunday, April 6, 1862.

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.]




By the name of "Pittsburg Landing," this Tennessee River point,
Southerners designate the conflict of April 6 and 7, 1862. The building
upon the left and one farther up the bank were the only ones standing at
the time of the battle. Of the six steamers, the name of the _Tycoon_,
which brought hospital supplies from the Cincinnati branch of the Sanitary
Commission, is visible. Johnston's plan in the attack on the Federal
forces was to pound away on their left until they were driven away from
the Landing and huddled in the angle between the Tennessee River and Snake
Creek. The onset of the Confederates was full of dash. Sherman was at
length driven from Shiloh Church, and the command of Prentiss was
surrounded and forced to surrender. It looked as if Johnston would crush
the left. Just at this point he was struck down by a minie-ball from the
last line of a Federal force that he had victoriously driven back. The
success of the day now begins to tell on the Confederate army. Many of the
lines show great gaps. But the men in gray push vigorously toward the
point where these boats lie anchored. Some heavy guns are massed near this
point. Reenforcements are arriving across the river, but General
Beauregard, who succeeds Johnston in command, suspends the battle till the
morrow. During the night 24,000 fresh troops are taken across the river by
the transports here pictured. They successfully withstand the attempt of
Beauregard, and with the arrival of Lew Wallace from up the river victory
shifts to the Stars and Stripes.


In the river near Pittsburg Landing, where the Federal transports lay,
were two small gunboats, and what they did during the battle of April 6th
makes a separate chapter in the action. In the early morning they were out
of sight, though within sound of the continuous firing. How the battle was
going, however, was evident. The masses of the blue-clad troops appeared
through the trees on the river bank, showing that under the continuous and
fierce assaults they were falling back upon the Landing. The _Tyler_,
commanded by Lieutenant Gwin, and afterward the _Lexington_, commanded by
Lieutenant Shirk, which arrived at four o'clock, strove to keep the
Confederate army from the Landing. After the surrender of Prentiss,
General Withers set his division in motion to the right toward this point.
Chalmers' and Jackson's brigades marched into the ravine of Dill's Branch
and into the range of the Federal gunboats and batteries which silenced
Gage's battery, the only one Withers had, and played havoc with the
Confederate skirmishers. All the rest of the afternoon, until nightfall,
the river sailors kept up their continuous bombardment, and in connection
with the field batteries on the bank checked General Withers' desperate
attempt on the Landing. The dauntless brigade of Chalmers, whose brave
Southerners held their ground near the foot of the ravine and maintained
the conflict after the battle was ended elsewhere, was swept by the
gunboats' fire. When Buell's army, that had been hurrying up to Grant's
assistance, reached the battle-field, Gwin sent a messenger ashore in the
evening to General Nelson, who had just arrived, and asked in what manner
he could now be of service. It was pitch dark; except for the occasional
firing of the pickets the armies were resting after the terrific combat.
In reply to Gwin's inquiry, General Nelson requested that the gunboats
keep on firing during the night, and that every ten minutes an 8-inch
shell should be launched in the direction of the Confederate camp. With
great precision Gwin followed out this course. Through the forest the
shells shrieked and exploded over the exhausted Confederates, showering
branches and limbs upon them where they slept, and tearing great gashes in
the earth. The result was that they got little rest, and rest was
necessary. Slowly a certain demoralization became evident--results that
bore fruit in the action that opened on the morrow. Here we see
pictured--in the lower part of the page--the captain's gig and crew near
the _Lexington_, ready to row their commander out into the stream.

[Illustration: THE _LEXINGTON_]





In the battle of Shiloh the Fourteenth Iowa Infantry formed part of that
self-constituted forlorn hope which made the victory of April 7, 1862,
possible. It held the center at the "Hornet's Nest," fighting the
live-long day against fearful odds. Just as the sun was setting, Colonel
William T. Shaw, seeing that he was surrounded and further resistance
useless, surrendered the regiment. These officers and men were held as
prisoners of war until October 12, 1862, when, moving by Richmond,
Virginia, and Annapolis, Maryland, they went to Benton Barracks, Missouri,
being released on parole, and were declared exchanged on the 19th of
November. This photograph was taken while they were held at Richmond,
opposite the cook-houses of Libby Prison. The third man from the left in
the front row, standing with his hand grasping the lapel of his coat, is
George Marion Smith, a descendant of General Marion of Revolutionary fame.
It is through the courtesy of his son, N. H. Smith, that this photograph
appears here. The Fourteenth Iowa Infantry was organized at Davenport and
mustered in November 6, 1861. At Shiloh the men were already veterans of
Forts Henry and Donelson. Those who were not captured fought in the battle
of Corinth, and after the prisoners were exchanged they took part in the
Red River expedition and several minor engagements. They were mustered out
November 16, 1864, when the veterans and recruits were consolidated in two
companies and assigned to duty in Springfield, Illinois, till August,
1865. These two companies were mustered out on August 8th. The regiment
lost during service five officers and fifty-nine enlisted men killed and
mortally wounded, and one officer and 138 enlisted men by disease. Iowa
sent nine regiments of cavalry, four batteries of light artillery and
fifty-one regiments of infantry to the Union armies, a grand total of
76,242 soldiers.


Stalwart horsemen such as these bore the brunt of keeping order in the
turbulent regions fought over by the armies in the West. The bugle call,
"Boots and Saddles!" might summon them to fight, or to watch the movements
of the active Confederates, Van Dorn and Price. It was largely due to
their daring and bravery that the Confederate forces were held back from
the Mississippi so as not to embarrass the movements of Grant and the
gunboats. Of this unattached cavalry of the Army of the Ohio were the men
in the upper picture--Company D, Fourth Kentucky Volunteers, enlisted at
Louisville, December, 1861.




"A spear-thrust in the back" was delivered to the Confederacy by the
inland-river fleet that cut it in two. The squadron of Flag-Officer Davis
is here lying near Memphis. Thus appeared the Federal gunboats on June 5,
1862, two miles above the city. Fort Pillow had been abandoned the
previous day, but the Confederate river-defense flotilla still remained
below and the Federals, still smarting from the disaster inflicted on the
"Cincinnati," were determined to bring on a decisive engagement and, if
possible, clear the river of their antagonists. Meanwhile four new vessels
had joined the Federal squadron. These were river steamers which Charles
Ellet, Jr., had converted into rams in the short space of six weeks. Their
principle was as old as history, but it was now to be tried for the first
time in aid of the Federal cause. On these heights above the river the
inhabitants of Memphis were crowded on the morning of June 6, 1862, as the
Federal squadron moved down-stream against the Confederate gunboats that
were drawn up in double line of battle opposite the city. Everyone wanted
to see the outcome of the great fight that was impending, for if its
result proved adverse to the Confederates, Memphis would fall into Federal
hands and another stretch of the Mississippi would be lost to the South.
In the engagement at Memphis two of the Ellet rams accompanied the
squadron--the "Queen of the West" commanded by Charles Ellet, and the
"Monarch" commanded by his younger brother, Major Alfred Ellet. The
Confederate flotilla was destroyed, but with the loss of Charles Ellet,
from a mortal wound.






In April, 1862, J. J. Andrews, a citizen of Kentucky and a spy in General
Buell's employment, proposed seizing a locomotive on the Western and
Atlantic Railroad at some point below Chattanooga and running it back to
that place, cutting telegraph wires and burning bridges on the way.
General O. M. Mitchel authorized the plan and twenty-two men volunteered
to carry it out. On the morning of April 12th, the train they were on
stopped at Big Shanty station for breakfast. The bridge-burners (who were
in citizens' clothes) detached the locomotive and three box-cars and
started at full speed for Chattanooga, but after a run of about a hundred
miles their fuel was exhausted and their pursuers were in sight. The whole
party was captured. Andrews was condemned as a spy and hanged at Atlanta,
July 7th. The others were confined at Chattanooga, Knoxville, and
afterward at Atlanta, where seven were executed as spies. Of the fourteen
survivors, eight escaped from prison; and of these, six eventually reached
the Union lines. Six were removed to Richmond and confined in Castle
Thunder until they were exchanged in 1863. The Confederates attempted to
destroy the locomotive when they evacuated Atlanta.


_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]



A photograph of the only 20-inch gun made during the war. It weighed
117,000 pounds. On March 30, 1861, a 15-inch Columbiad was heralded in
_Harper's Weekly_ as the biggest gun in the world, but three years later
this was exceeded. In 1844 Lieutenant (later Brigadier-General) Thomas
Jefferson Rodman of the Ordnance Department commenced a series of tests to
find a way to obviate the injurious strains set up in the metal, by
cooling a large casting from the exterior. He finally developed his theory
of casting a gun with the core hollow and then cooling it by a stream of
water or cold air through it. So successful was this method that the War
Department, in 1860, authorized a 15-inch smooth-bore gun. It proved a
great success. General Rodman then projected his 20-inch smooth-bore gun,
which was made in 1864 under his direction at Fort Pitt, Pittsburg,
Pennsylvania. It was mounted at Fort Hamilton, New York Harbor, very soon
afterwards, but on account of the tremendous size and destructive effect
of its projectiles it was fired only four times during the war. It was
almost impossible to get a target that would withstand the shots and leave
anything to show what had happened. These four shots were fired with 50,
75, 100 and 125 pounds of powder. The projectile weighed 1,080 pounds, and
the maximum pressure on the bore was 25,000 pounds. In March, 1867, it was
again fired four times with 125, 150, 175 and 200 pounds of powder, each
time with an elevation of twenty-five degrees, the projectile attaining a
maximum range of 8,001 yards. This is no mean record even compared with
twentieth century pieces.

    NEWS OF MARCH 30, 1861


    We publish on page 205 an accurate drawing of the great Fifteen-inch
    Gun at Fort Monroe, Virginia; and also a picture, from a recent
    sketch, showing the experiments which are being made with a view to
    test it. It is proper that we should say that the small drawing is
    from the lithograph which is published in MAJOR BARNARD'S "Notes on
    Sea-Coast Defense," published by Mr. D. Van Nostrand, of this city.

    This gun was cast at Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, by Knapp, Rudd, &, Co.,
    under the directions of Captain T. J. Rodman, of the Ordnance Corps.
    Its dimensions are as follows:

        Total length                            190 inches.
        Length of calibre of bore               156   "
        Length of ellipsoidal chamber             9   "
        Total length of bore                    165   "
        Maximum exterior diameter                48   "



In this remarkable view of the "Monitor's" turret, taken in July, 1862, is
seen as clearly as on the day after the great battle the effect of the
Confederate fire upon Ericsson's novel craft. As the two vessels
approached each other about half-past eight on that immortal Sunday
morning, the men within the turret waited anxiously for the first shot of
their antagonist. It soon came from her bow gun and went wide of the mark.
The "Virginia" no longer had the broadside of a wooden ship at which to
aim. Not until the "Monitor" was alongside the big ironclad at close range
came the order "Begin firing" to the men in the "cheese box." Then the
gun-ports of the turret were triced back, and it began to revolve for the
first time in battle. As soon as the guns were brought to bear, two
11-inch solid shot struck the "Virginia's" armor; almost immediately she
replied with her broadside, and Lieutenant Greene and his gunners listened
anxiously to the shells bursting against their citadel. They made no more
impression than is apparent in the picture. Confident in the protection of
their armor, the Federals reloaded with a will and came again and again to
close quarters with their adversary, hurling two great projectiles about
every eight minutes.



Here on the deck of the "Monitor" sit some of the men who held up the
hands of Lieutenant Worden in the great fight with the "Virginia." In the
picture, taken in July, 1862, only four months afterward, one of the nine
famous dents on the turret are visible. It required courage not only to
fight in the "Monitor" for the first time but to embark on her at all, for
she was a strange and untried invention at which many high authorities
shook their heads. But during the battle, amid all the difficulties of
breakdowns by the new untried machinery, Lieutenant S. Dana Greene coolly
directed his men, who kept up a fire of remarkable accuracy. Twenty of the
forty-one 11-inch shot fired from the "Monitor" took effect, more or less,
on the iron plates of the "Virginia." The "Monitor" was struck nine times
on her turret, twice on the pilot-house, thrice on the deck, and eight
times on the side. While Greene was fighting nobly in the turret, Worden
with the helmsman in the pilot-house was bravely maneuvering his vessel
and seeking to ram his huge antagonist. Twice he almost succeeded and both
times Greene's guns were used on the "Virginia" at point-blank range with
telling effect. Toward the close of the action Worden was blinded by a
shell striking near one of the peep-holes in the pilot-house and the
command devolved upon Greene. Worden, even in his agony of pain while the
doctor was attending his injuries, asked constantly about the progress of
the battle; and when told that the "Minnesota" was safe, he said, "Then I
can die happy."

[Illustration: ADMIRAL J. L. WORDEN]





"Who is this Farragut?" So the younger generation of Americans must have
wondered, at the news of late January, 1862. Farragut was to have a flag
in the Gulf and was expected to capture New Orleans. Thus far in the War,
he had done nothing but sit on an obscure retiring board in the Navy
Department at Washington. But Commander David D. Porter knew him, for it
was with Porter's own father in the famous old "Essex" that Farragut as a
mere boy had proved worthy to command a fighting ship. And now it was
Porter who had recommended him for a task considered gravely dangerous by
all, foolhardy by not a few. This was no less than to pass the forts below
New Orleans, defeat a powerful and determined Confederate flotilla,
capture the city, and then sweep up the Mississippi and split the
Confederacy in two. To this Farragut rigidly held himself and the brave
men under him, when, in the dark hour before dawn of April 24, 1862, they
faced the terrible bombardment of the forts and fought their way through
the flames of fire rafts desperately maneuvered by the opposing gunboats.
Next day New Orleans was Farragut's. Leaving it to the co-operating army
under General B. F. Butler, Farragut pushed on up the river, passed and
repassed the fortifications at Vicksburg, but the army needed to drive
home the wedge thus firmly entered by the navy was not yet ready. It was
another year before the sturdy blows of Farragut were effectually
supplemented ashore.



On this page of unwritten history McPherson and Oliver, the New Orleans
war-time photographers, have caught the crew of the staunch old "Hartford"
as they relaxed after their fiery test. In unconscious picturesqueness
grouped about the spar-deck, the men are gossiping or telling over again
their versions of the great deeds done aboard the flagship. Some have
seized the opportunity for a little plain sewing, while all are interested
in the new and unfamiliar process of "having their pictures taken." The
notable thing about the picture is the number of young faces. Only a few
of the old salts whose bearded and weather-beaten faces give evidence of
service in the old navy still remain. After the great triumph in Mobile
Bay, Farragut said of these men: "I have never seen a crew come up like
ours. They are ahead of the old set in small arms, and fully equal to them
at the great guns. They arrived here a mere lot of boys and young men, and
have now fattened up and knocked the nine-inch guns about like twenty-four
pounders, to the astonishment of everybody. There was but one man who
showed fear and he was allowed to resign. This was the most desperate
battle I ever fought since the days of the old 'Essex.'" "It was the
anxious night of my life," wrote Farragut later. The spar-deck shown below
recalls another speech. "Don't flinch from that fire, boys! There is a
hotter fire for those who don't do their duty!" So shouted Farragut with
his ship fast aground and a huge fire-raft held hard against her wooden
side by the little Confederate tug "Mosher." The ship seemed all ablaze
and the men, "breathing fire," were driven from their guns. Farragut,
calmly pacing the poop deck, called out his orders, caring nothing for the
rain of shot from Fort St. Philip. The men, inspired by such coolness,
leaped to their stations again and soon a shot pierced the boiler of the
plucky "Mosher" and sank her.



A shattered and discomfited army were the hosts of McDowell when they
reached the banks of the Potomac, after that ill-fated July Sunday at Bull
Run. Dispirited by the sting of defeat, this motley and unorganized mass
of men became rather a mob than an army. The transformation of this chaos
of demoralization into the trained, disciplined, and splendid troops of
the Grand Army of the Potomac, was a triumph of the "young Napoleon"--Gen.
George Brinton McClellan. Fresh from his victories in the mountains of
West Virginia, he was called to Washington to transmute 200,000 American
citizens, fresh from shop and farm, into soldiers.

For months it was "drill, drill." Public opinion grew restless at the cry
"All's Quiet Along the Potomac." At last, on March 17th, McClellan moved.
On April 5th the Union army was advancing toward Richmond up the
Peninsula, but was stopped at Yorktown by the Confederate General
Magruder. Not until May 3rd were McClellan's siege guns in place. That
night the Confederates evacuated.

In hot pursuit the Union army followed. At Williamsburg the lines in Gray
stood again. "Jeb" Stuart, D. H. Hill, and Jubal Early fought nobly. They
gained their object--more time for their retreating comrades. But
McClellan's fighting leaders, Hooker, Kearny and Hancock, were not to be
denied. Williamsburg was occupied by the Federal army.

With Yorktown and Williamsburg inscribed upon its victorious banners, the
Army of the Potomac took up again its toilsome march from Cumberland
Landing toward the Confederate capital on the James.

It was the 16th of May, 1862, when the advanced corps reached White House,
the ancestral home of the Lees. On every side were fields of wheat, and,
were it not for the presence of one hundred thousand men, there was the
promise of a full harvest. It was here that General McClellan took up his
headquarters, a distance of twenty-four miles from Richmond.

In the Confederate capital a panic had seized the people. As the
retreating army of Johnston sought the environs of Richmond and news of
the invading hosts was brought in, fear took possession of the inhabitants
and many wild rumors were afloat as to the probable capture of the city.
But it was not a fear that Johnston would not fight. The strategic policy
of the Southern general had been to delay the advance of the Northern
army. Fortunately for him, the rainy weather proved a powerful ally. The
time had now come when he should change his position from the defensive to
the offensive. The Army of Northern Virginia had been brought to bay, and
it now turned to beat off the invaders and save its capital.

On the historic Peninsula lay two of the greatest and most splendid armies
that had ever confronted each other on the field of battle. The
engagement, now imminent, was to be the first in that series of contests,
between the Army of the Potomac and the Army of Northern Virginia, ending
three years thereafter, at Appomattox, when the war-worn veterans of gray
should lay down their arms, in honor, to the war-worn veterans of blue.

The Union advance was retarded by the condition of the weather and the
roads. Between McClellan's position at White House and the waiting
Confederate army lay the Chickahominy, an erratic and sluggish stream,
that spreads itself out in wooded swamps and flows around many islands,
forming a valley from half a mile to a mile wide, bordered by low bluffs.
In dry weather it is but a mere brook, but a moderate shower will cause it
to rise quickly and to offer formidable opposition to any army seeking its
passage. The valley is covered with trees whose tops reach to the level
of the adjacent highlands, thus forming a screen from either side. The
bridges crossing it had all been destroyed by the retreating army except
the one at Mechanicsville, and it was not an easy task that awaited the
forces of McClellan as they made their way across the spongy soil.

The van of the Union army reached the Chickahominy on May 20th. The bridge
was gone but the men under General Naglee forded the little river,
reaching the plateau beyond, and made a bold reconnaissance before the
Confederate lines. In the meantime, newly constructed bridges were
beginning to span the Chickahominy, and the Federal army soon was crossing
to the south bank of the river.

General McClellan had been promised reënforcements from the north. General
McDowell with forty thousand men had started from Fredericksburg to join
him north of the Chickahominy. For this reason, General McClellan had
thrown the right wing of his army on the north of the river while his left
would rest on the south side of the stream. This position of his army did
not escape the eagle eye of the Confederate general, Joseph E. Johnston,
who believed the time had now come to give battle, and perhaps destroy the
small portion of the Union forces south of the river.

Meanwhile, General "Stonewall" Jackson, in the Shenandoah, was making
threatening movements in the direction of Washington, and McDowell's
orders to unite with McClellan were recalled.

The roads in and about Richmond radiate from that city like the spokes of
a wheel. One of these is the Williamsburg stage-road, crossing the
Chickahominy at Bottom's Bridge, only eleven miles from Richmond. It was
along this road that the Federal corps of Keyes and Heintzelman had made
their way. Their orders were "to go prepared for battle at a moment's
notice" and "to bear in mind that the Army of the Potomac has never been

Parallel to this road, and about a mile to the northward, runs the
Richmond and York River Railroad. Seven miles from Richmond another
highway intersects the one from Williamsburg, known as the Nine Mile road.
At the point of this intersection once grew a clump of seven pines, hence
the name of "Seven Pines," often given to the battle fought on this spot.
A thousand yards beyond the pines were two farmhouses in a grove of oaks.
This was Fair Oaks Farm. Where the Nine Mile road crossed the railroad was
Fair Oaks Station.

Southeast of Seven Pines was White Oak Swamp. Casey's division of Keyes'
corps was stationed at Fair Oaks Farm. A fifth of a mile in front lay his
picket line, extending crescent shape, from the swamp to the Chickahominy.
Couch's division of the same corps was at Seven Pines, with his right wing
extending along the Nine Mile road to Fair Oaks Station. Heintzelman's
corps lay to the rear; Kearney's division guarded the railroad at Savage's
Station and Hooker's the approaches to the White Oak Swamp. This formed
three lines of defense. It was a well-wooded region and at this time was
in many places no more than a bog. No sooner had these positions been
taken, than trees were cut to form abatis, rifle-pits were hastily dug,
and redoubts for placing artillery were constructed. The picket line lay
along a dense growth of woods. Through an opening in the trees, the
Confederate army could be seen in force on the other side of the clearing.

The plans of the Confederate general were well matured. On Friday, May
30th, he gave orders that his army should be ready to move at daybreak.

That night the "windows of heaven seemed to have been opened" and the
"fountains of the deep broken up." The storm fell like a deluge. It was
the most violent storm that had swept over that region for a generation.
Throughout the night the tempest raged. The thunderbolts rolled without
cessation. The sky was white with the electric flashes. The earth was
thoroughly drenched. The lowlands became a morass. From mud-soaked beds
the soldiers arose the next morning to battle.

Owing to the storm the Confederates did not move so early as intended.
However, some of the troops were in readiness by eight o'clock. Hour after
hour the forces of Longstreet and Hill awaited the sound of the signal-gun
that would tell them General Huger was in his position to march. Still
they waited. It was near noon before General Hill, weary of waiting,
advanced to the front, preceded by a line of skirmishers, along the
Williamsburg road. The Union pickets were lying at the edge of the forest.
The soldiers in the pits had been under arms for several hours awaiting
the attack. Suddenly there burst through the woods the soldiers of the
South. A shower of bullets fell beneath the trees and the Union pickets
gave way. On and on came the lines of gray in close columns. In front of
the abatis had been planted a battery of four guns. General Naglee with
four regiments, the Fifty-sixth and One hundredth New York and Eleventh
Maine and One hundred and fourth Pennsylvania, had gone forward, and in
the open field met the attacking army. The contest was a stubborn one.
Naglee's men charged with their bayonets and pressed the gray lines back
again to the edge of the woods. Here they were met by a furious fire of
musketry and quickly gave way, seeking the cover of the rifle-pits at Fair
Oaks Farm. The Confederate infantrymen came rushing on.

But again they were held in check. In this position, for nearly three
hours the Federals waged an unequal combat against three times their
number. Then, suddenly a galling fire plowed in on them from the left. It
came from Rains' brigade, which had executed a flank movement. At the same
time the brigade of Rodes rushed toward them. The Federals saw the
hopelessness of the situation. The officers at the batteries tried to
spike their guns but were killed in the attempt. Hastily falling back,
five guns were left to be turned on them in their retreat. This move was
not too soon. In another minute they would have been entirely surrounded
and captured. The gray lines pressed on. The next stand would be made at
Seven Pines, where Couch was stationed. The forces here had been weakened
by sending relief to Casey. The situation of the Federals was growing
critical. At the same time General Longstreet sent reënforcements to
General Hill. Couch was forced out of his position toward the right in the
direction of Fair Oaks Station and was thus separated from the main body
of the army, then in action.

The Confederates pushed strongly against the Federal center. Heintzelman
came to the rescue. The fight waged was a gallant one. For an hour and a
half the lines of blue and gray surged back and forth. The Federals were
gradually giving way. The left wing, alone, next to the White Oak Swamp,
was holding its own.

At the same time over at Fair Oaks Station whither Couch had been forced,
were new developments. He was about to strike the Confederate army on its
left flank, but just when the guns were being trained, there burst across
the road the troops of General G. W. Smith, who up to this time had been
inactive. These men were fresh for the fight, superior in number, and soon
overpowered the Northerners. It looked for a time as if the whole Union
army south of the Chickahominy was doomed.

Over at Seven Pines the center of McClellan's army was about to be routed.
Now it was that General Heintzelman personally collected about eighteen
hundred men, the fragments of the broken regiments, and took a decided
stand at the edge of the timber. He was determined not to give way. But
this alone would not nor did not save the day. To the right of this new
line of battle, there was a rise of ground. From here the woods abruptly
sloped to the rear. If this elevation were once secured by the
Confederates, all would be lost and rout would be inevitable. The quick
eye of General Keyes took in the situation. He was stationed on the left;
to reach the hill would necessitate taking his men between the
battle-lines. The distance was nearly eight hundred yards. Calling on a
single regiment to follow he made a dash for the position. The Southern
troops, divining his intention, poured a deadly volley into his ranks and
likewise attempted to reach this key to the situation. The Federals gained
the spot just in time. The new line was formed as a heavy mass of
Confederates came upon them. The tremendous Union fire was too much for
the assaulting columns, which were checked. They had forced the Federal
troops back from their entrenchments a distance of two miles, but they
never got farther than these woods. The river fog now came up as the
evening fell and the Southern troops spent the night in the captured
camps, sleeping on their arms. The Federals fell back toward the river to
an entrenched camp.

Meanwhile at Fair Oaks Station the day was saved, too, in the nick of
time, for the Federals. On the north side of the Chickahominy were
stationed the two divisions of Sedgwick and Richardson, under command of
General Sumner. Scarcely had the battle opened when McClellan at his
headquarters, six miles away, heard the roar and rattle of artillery. He
was sick at the time, but he ordered General Sumner to be in readiness. At
this time there were four bridges across the river--two of them were
Bottom's Bridge and the railroad bridge. To go by either of these would
consume too much time in case of an emergency. General Sumner had himself
constructed two more bridges, lying between the others. The heavy flood of
the preceding night, which was still rising, had swept one of these
partially away. In order to save time, he put his men under arms and
marched them to the end of the upper bridge and there waited throughout
the greater part of the afternoon for orders to cross. Before them rolled
a muddy and swollen stream, above whose flood was built a rude and
unstable structure. From the other side could be distinctly heard the
roar of battle. The fate of the day and of the Army of the Potomac rested
upon these men at the end of the bridge.

The possibility of crossing was doubted by everyone, including the general
himself. The bridge had been built of logs, held together and kept from
drifting by the stumps of trees. Over the river proper it was suspended by
ropes attached to trees, felled across the stream.

At last the long-expected order to advance came. The men stepped upon the
floating bridge. It swayed to and fro as the solid column passed over it.
Beneath the men was the angry flood which would engulf all if the bridge
should fall. Gradually the weight pressed it down between the solid stumps
and it was made secure till the army had crossed. Had the passage been
delayed another hour the flood would have rendered it impassable.

Guided by the roar of battle the troops hurried on. The artillery was left
behind in the mud of the Chickahominy. The steady, rolling fire of
musketry and the boom of cannon told of deadly work in front. It was
nearly six o'clock before Sedgwick's column deployed into line in the rear
of Fair Oaks Station. They came not too soon. Just now there was a lull in
the battle. The Confederates were gathering themselves for a vigorous
assault on their opponents' flaming front. Their lines were re-forming.
General Joseph E. Johnston himself had immediate command. President
Jefferson Davis had come out from his capital to witness the contest.
Rapidly the Confederates moved forward. A heavy fusillade poured from
their batteries and muskets. Great rents were made in the line of blue. It
did not waver. The openings were quickly filled and a scorching fire was
sent into the approaching columns. Again and again the charge was repeated
only to be repulsed. Then came the order to fix bayonets. Five
regiments--Thirty-fourth and Eighty-second New York, Fifteenth and
Twentieth Massachusetts and Seventh Michigan--pushed to the front. Into
the woods where the Confederates had fallen back the charge was made.
Driving the Southern lines back in confusion, these dashing columns saved
the day for the Army of the Potomac.

Night was now settling over the wooded field. Here and there flashes of
light could be seen among the oaks, indicating a diligent search for the
wounded. General Johnston ordered his troops to sleep on the field. A few
minutes later he was struck by a rifle-ball and almost immediately a shell
hit him, throwing him from his horse, and he was borne off the field. The
first day of the battle was over.

The disability of the Southern commander made it possible for the
promotion of a new leader upon whom the fortunes of the Army of Northern
Virginia would soon rest. This was General Robert E. Lee; although the
immediate command for the next day's contest fell upon General G. W.
Smith. Early Sunday morning the battle was again in progress. The command
of Smith, near Fair Oaks Station, advanced down the railroad, attacking
Richardson, whose lines were north of it and were using the embankment as
a fortification. Longstreet's men were south of the railroad. The firing
was heavy all along this line, the opposing forces being not more than
fifty yards from each other. For an hour and a half the musketry fire was
intensely heavy. It was, indeed, a continuous roar. The line of gray could
not withstand the galling fire and for the first time that day fell back.
But the Union line had been broken, too. A brief lull ensued. Both sides
were gathering themselves for another onslaught. It was then that there
were heard loud shouts from the east of the railroad.

There, coming through the woods, was a large body of Federal troops. They
were the men of Hooker. They formed a magnificent body of soldiers and
seemed eager for the fray. Turning in on the Williamsburg road they
rapidly deployed to the right and the left. In front of them was an open
field, with a thick wood on the other side. The Confederates had posted
themselves in this forest and were waiting for their antagonists. The
Federals marched upon the field in double-quick time; their movements
became a run, and they began firing as they dashed forward. They were met
by a withering fire of field artillery and a wide gap being opened in
their ranks. It immediately filled. They reached the edge of the woods and
as they entered its leafy shadows the tide of battle rolled in with them.
The front line was lost to view in the forest, except for an occasional
gleam of arms from among the trees. The din and the clash and roar of
battle were heard for miles. Bayonets were brought into use. It was almost
a hand-to-hand combat in the heavy forest and tangled slashings. The sound
of battle gradually subsided, then ceased except for the intermittent
reports of small arms, and the second day's fight was over.

The Confederate forces withdrew toward Richmond. The Federal troops could
now occupy without molestation the positions they held the previous
morning. The forest paths were strewn with the dead and the dying. Many of
the wounded were compelled to lie under the scorching sun for hours before
help reached them. Every farmhouse became an improvised hospital where the
suffering soldiers lay. Many were placed upon cars and taken across the
Chickahominy. The dead horses were burned. The dead soldiers, blue and
gray, found sometimes lying within a few feet of each other, were buried
on the field of battle. The two giants had met in their first great combat
and were even now beginning to gird up their loins for a desperate
struggle before the capital of the Confederacy.



A picture taken in the fall of 1861, when McClellan was at the
headquarters of General George W. Morell (who stands at the extreme left),
commanding a brigade in Fitz John Porter's Division. Morell was then
stationed on the defenses of Washington at Minor's Hill in Virginia, and
General McClellan was engaged in transforming the raw recruits in the
camps near the national capital into the finished soldiers of the Army of
the Potomac. "Little Mac," as they called him, was at this time at the
height of his popularity. He appears in the center between two of his
favorite aides-de-camp--Lieut.-Cols. A. V. Colburn and N. B.
Sweitzer--whom he usually selected, he writes, "when hard riding is
required." Farther to the right stand two distinguished visitors--the
Prince de Joinville, son of King Louis Phillippe of France, and his
nephew, the Count de Paris, who wears the uniform of McClellan's staff, on
which he was to serve throughout the Peninsula Campaign (see page 115). He
afterwards wrote a valuable "History of the Civil War."


RAMPARTS THAT BAFFLED McCLELLAN. (Hasty fortifications of the Confederates
at Yorktown.) It was against such fortifications as these, which Magruder
had hastily reënforced with sand-bags, that McClellan spent a month
preparing his heavy batteries. Magruder had far too few soldiers to man
his long line of defenses properly, and his position could have been taken
by a single determined attack. This rampart was occupied by the
Confederate general, D. H. Hill, who had been the first to enter Yorktown
in order to prepare it for siege. He was the last to leave it on the night
of May 3, 1862.


WRECKED ORDNANCE. (Gun exploded by the Confederates on General Hill's
rampart, Yorktown.) Although the Confederates abandoned 200 pieces of
ordnance at Yorktown, they were able to render most of them useless before
leaving. Hill succeeded in terrorizing the Federals with grape-shot, and
some of this was left behind. After the evacuation the ramparts were
overrun by Union trophy seekers. The soldier resting his hands upon his
musket is one of the Zouaves whose bright and novel uniforms were so
conspicuous early in the war. This spot was directly on the line of the
British fortification of 1781.


ANOTHER VOICELESS GUN. (Confederate ramparts southeast of Yorktown.) A
32-pounder Navy gun which had been burst, wrecking its embrasure. The
Federal soldier seated on the sand-bags is on guard-duty to prevent
camp-followers from looting the vacant fort.


THE MISSING RIFLE. (Extensive sand-bag fortifications of the Confederates
at Yorktown.) The shells and carriage were left behind by the
Confederates, but the rifled gun to which they belonged was taken along in
the retreat. Such pieces as they could not remove they spiked.


GUNS THE UNION LOST AND RECOVERED. (A two-gun Confederate battery in the
entrenchments south of Yorktown.) The near gun is a 32-pounder navy; the
far one, a 24-pounder siege-piece. More than 3,000 pieces of naval
ordnance fell into the hands of the Confederates early in the war, through
the ill-advised and hasty abandonment of Norfolk Navy Yard by the
Federals. Many of these guns did service at Yorktown and subsequently on
the James River against the Union.


Looking north up the river, four of the five 8-inch Columbiads composing
this section of the battery are visible. The grape-shot and spherical
shells, which had been gathered in quantities to prevent the Federal fleet
from passing up the river, were abandoned on the hasty retreat of the
Confederates, the guns being spiked. The vessels in the river are
transport ships, with the exception of the frigate just off shore.



The North expected General McClellan to possess himself of this citadel of
the Confederacy in June, 1862, and it seemed likely the expectation would
be realized. In the upper picture we get a near view of the State House at
Richmond, part of which was occupied as a Capitol by the Confederate
Congress during the war. In this building were stored the records and
archives of the Confederate Government, many of which were lost during the
hasty retreat of President Davis and his cabinet at the evacuation of
Richmond, April, 1865. Below, we see the city of Richmond from afar, with
the Capitol standing out boldly on the hill. McClellan was not destined to
reach this coveted goal, and it would not have meant the fall of the
Confederacy had he then done so. When Lincoln entered the building in
1865, the Confederacy had been beaten as much by the blockade as by the
operations of Grant and Sherman with vastly superior forces.



Here are the portraits of the two military leaders who were conspicuous in
the Confederate attack upon McClellan's camp at Fair Oaks. General D. H.
Hill did most of the fierce fighting which drove back the Federals on the
first day, and only the timely arrival of Sumner's troops enabled the
Federals to hold their ground. Had they failed they would have been driven
into the morasses of the Chickahominy, retreat across which would have
been difficult as the bridges were partly submerged by the swollen stream.
After General Johnston was wounded, General G. W. Smith was in command
during the second day's fighting.

[Illustration: GENERAL G. W. SMITH, C. S. A.]

[Illustration: GENERAL D. H. HILL, C. S. A.]


Here, almost within sight of the goal (Richmond), we see McClellan's
soldiers preparing the way for the passage of the army and its supplies.
The soil along the Chickahominy was so marshy that in order to move the
supply trains and artillery from the base at White House and across the
river to the army, corduroy approaches to the bridges had to be built. It
was well that the men got this early practice in road-building. Thanks to
the work kept up, McClellan was able to unite the divided wings of the
army almost at will.


_Copyright by Patriot Pub. Co._]

These trained soldiers lived up to the promise in their firm-set features.
Major Hays and five of his Lieutenants and Captains here--Pennington,
Tidball, Hains, Robertson and Barlow had, by '65, become general officers.
From left to right (standing) are Edw. Pendleton, A. C. M. Pennington,
Henry Benson, H. M. Gibson, J. M. Wilson, J. C. Tidball, W. N. Dennison;
(sitting) P. C. Hains, H. C. Gibson, Wm. Hays, J. M. Robertson, J. W.
Barlow; (on ground) R. H. Chapin, Robert Clarke, A. C. Vincent.



Friends and even relatives who had been enlisted on opposite sides in the
great Civil War met each other during its vicissitudes upon the
battle-field. Here, caught by the camera, is one of the many instances. On
the left sits Lieutenant J. B. Washington, C. S. A., who was an aide to
General Johnston at Fair Oaks. Beside him sits Lieutenant George A.
Custer, of the Fifth U. S. Cavalry, aide on McClellan's staff, later
famous cavalry general and Indian fighter. Both men were West Point
graduates and had attended the military academy together. On the morning
of May 31, 1862, at Fair Oaks, Lieutenant Washington was captured by some
of General Casey's pickets. Later in the day his former classmate ran
across him and a dramatic meeting was thus recorded by the camera.



As soon as Professor Lowe's balloon soars above the top of the trees the
Confederate batteries will open upon him, and for the next few moments
shells and bullets from the shrapnels will be bursting and whistling about
his ears. Then he will pass out of the danger-zone to an altitude beyond
the reach of the Confederate artillery. After the evacuation of Yorktown,
May 4, 1862, Professor Lowe, who had been making daily observations from
his balloon, followed McClellan's divisions, which was to meet Longstreet
next day at Williamsburg. On reaching the fortifications of the abandoned
city, Lowe directed the men who were towing the still inflated balloon in
which he was riding to scale the corner of the fort nearest to his old
camp, where the last gun had been fired the night before. This fort had
devoted a great deal of effort to attempting to damage the too inquisitive
balloon, and a short time previously one of the best Confederate guns had
burst, owing to over-charging and too great an elevation to reach the high
altitude. The balloonist had witnessed the explosion and a number of
gunners had been killed and wounded within his sight. His present visit
was in order to touch and examine the pieces and bid farewell to what he
then looked upon as a departed friend. This is indicated as the same gun
on page 371.



"When I saw the photograph showing my inflation of the balloon _Intrepid_
to reconnoiter the battle of Fair Oaks," wrote Professor T. S. C. Lowe in
the _American Review of Reviews_ for February, 1911, "it surprised me very
much indeed. Any one examining the picture will see my hand at the extreme
right, resting on the network, where I was measuring the amount of gas
already in the balloon, preparatory to completing the inflation from gas
in the smaller balloon in order that I might ascent to a greater height.
This I did within a space of five minutes, saving a whole hour at the most
vital point of the battle." A close examination of this photograph will
reveal Professor Lowe's hand resting on the network of the balloon,
although his body is not in the photograph. It truly is remarkable that
Professor Lowe should have seen and recognized, nearly half a century
afterward, this photograph taken at one of the most critical moments of
his life.


Over this ground the fiercest fighting of the two days' battle took place,
on May 31, 1862. Some 400 soldiers were buried here, where they fell, and
their hastily dug graves appear plainly in the picture. In the redoubt
seen just beyond the two houses was the center of the Federal line of
battle, equi-distant, about a mile and a half, from both Seven Pines and
Fair Oaks. The entrenchments near these farm dwellings were begun on May
28th by Casey's Division, 4th Corps. There was not time to finish them
before the Confederate attack opened the battle, and the artillery of
Casey's Division was hurriedly placed in position behind the incomplete


In the smaller picture we see the inside of the redoubt at the left
background of the picture above. The scene is just before the battle and
picks and shovels were still busy throwing up the embankments to
strengthen this center of the Federal defense. Casey's artillery was being
hurriedly brought up. In the background General Sickles' Brigade appears
drawn up in line of battle. When the Confederates first advanced Casey's
artillery did telling work, handsomely repelling the attack early in the
afternoon of May 31st. Later in the day Confederate sharpshooters from
vantage points in neighboring trees began to pick off the officers and the
gunners and the redoubt had to be relinquished. The abandoned guns were
turned against the retreating Federals.

[Illustration: THE "REDHOT BATTERY."


On the afternoon of May 31st, at Fair Oaks, the Confederates were driving
the Federal soldiers through the woods in disorder when this battery
(McCarthy's) together with Miller's battery opened up with so continuous
and severe a fire that the Federals were able to make a stand and hold
their own for the rest of the day. The guns grew so hot from constant
firing that it was only with the greatest care that they could be swabbed
and loaded. These earthworks were thrown up for McCarthy's Battery,
Company C, 1st Pennsylvania Artillery, near Savage's Station. The soldiers
nicknamed it the "Redhot Battery."



Here we see the beginning of the lull in the fighting of the second day at
Fair Oaks, which it has been asserted led to a fatal delay and the ruin of
McClellan's Peninsula Campaign. The first day's battle at Fair Oaks, May
31, 1862, was decidedly a Federal reverse which would have developed into
a rout had not Sumner, crossing his troops on the perilous Grapevine
Bridge, come up in time to rally the retreating men. Here we see some of
them within the entrenchments at Fair Oaks Station on the Richmond & York
River Railroad. The order will soon come to cease firing at the end of the
second day's fighting, the result of which was to drive the Confederates
back to Richmond. McClellan did not pursue. The heavy rainstorm on the
night of May 30th had made the movement of artillery extremely difficult,
and McClellan wanted to complete the bridges and build entrenchments
before advancing. This delay gave the Confederates time to reorganize
their forces and place them under the new commander, Robert E. Lee, who
while McClellan lay inactive effected a junction with "Stonewall" Jackson.
Then during the Seven Days' Battles Lee steadily drove McClellan from his
position, within four or five miles of Richmond, to a new position on the
James River. From this secure and advantageous water base McClellan
planned a new line of advance upon the Confederate Capital. In the smaller
picture we see the interior of the works at Fair Oaks Station, which were
named Fort Sumner in honor of the General who brought up his Second Corps
and saved the day. The camp of the Second Corps is seen beyond the
fortifications to the right.






Here are drawn up Harry Benson's Battery A, of the Second United States
Artillery, and Horatio Gates Gibson's Batteries C and G, combined of the
Third United States Artillery, near Fair Oaks, Virginia. They arrived
there just too late to take part in the battle of June, 1862. By "horse
artillery," or "flying artillery" as it is sometimes called, is meant an
organization equipped usually with 10-pounder rifled guns, with all hands
mounted. In ordinary light artillery the cannoneers either ride on the
gun-carriage or go afoot. In "flying artillery" each cannoneer has a
horse. This form is by far the most mobile of all, and is best suited to
accompany cavalry on account of its ability to travel rapidly. With the
exception of the method of mounting the cannoneers, there was not any
difference between the classes of field batteries except as they were
divided between "light" and "heavy." In the photograph above no one is
riding on the gun-carriages, but all have separate mounts. Battery A of
the Second United States Artillery was in Washington in January, 1861, and
took part in the expedition for the relief of Fort Pickens, Florida. It
went to the Peninsula, fought at Mechanicsville May 23-24, 1862, and took
part in the Seven Days' battles before Richmond June 25th to July 1st.
Batteries C and G of the Third United States Artillery were at San
Francisco, California, till October 1861, when they came East, and also
went to the Peninsula and served at Yorktown and in the Seven Days.


    Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy, if possible, and when
    you strike and overcome him, never let up in the pursuit so long as
    your men have strength to follow.... The other rule is, never fight
    against heavy odds, if by any possible maneuvering you can hurl your
    own force on only a part, and that the weakest part, of your enemy and
    crush it. Such tactics will win every time, and a small army may thus
    destroy a large one in detail.--_"Stonewall" Jackson._

The main move of the Union army, for 1862, was to be McClellan's advance
up the Peninsula toward Richmond. Everything had been most carefully
planned by the brilliant strategist. With the assistance of McDowell's
corps, he expected in all confidence to be in the Confederate capital
before the spring had closed. But, comprehensively as he had worked the
scheme out, he had neglected a factor in the problem which was destined in
the end to bring the whole campaign to naught. This was the presence of
"Stonewall" Jackson in the Valley of Virginia.

The strategic value to the Confederacy of this broad, sheltered avenue
into Maryland and Pennsylvania was great. Along the northeasterly roads
the gray legions could march in perfect safety upon the rear of Washington
so long as the eastern gaps could be held. No wonder that the Federal
authorities, however much concerned with other problems of the war, never
removed a vigilant eye from the Valley.

Jackson had taken possession of Winchester, near the foot of the Valley,
in November, 1861. He then had about ten thousand men. The Confederate
army dwindled greatly during the winter. At the beginning of March there
were but forty-five hundred men. With Banks and his forty thousand now on
Virginia soil at the foot of the Valley, and Fremont's army approaching
the head, why should the Federal commander even think about this
insignificant fragment of his foe? But the records of war have shown that
a small force, guided by a master mind, sometimes accomplishes more in
effective results than ten times the number under a less active and able

The presence of Banks compelled Jackson to withdraw to Woodstock, fifty
miles south of Winchester. If McClellan ever experienced any anxiety as to
affairs in the Valley, it seems to have left him now, for he ordered Banks
to Manassas on March 16th to cover Washington, leaving General Shields and
his division of seven thousand men to hold the Valley. When Jackson heard
of the withdrawal, he resolved that, cut off as he was from taking part in
the defense of Richmond, he would do what he could to prevent any
aggrandizement of McClellan's forces.

Shields hastened to his station at Winchester, and Jackson, on the 23d of
March, massed his troops at Kernstown, about three miles south of the
former place. Deceived as to the strength of his adversary, he led his
weary men to an attack on Shields' right flank about three o'clock in the
afternoon. He carried the ridge where the Federals were posted, but the
energy of his troops was spent, and they had to give way to the reserves
of the Union army after three hours of stubborn contest. The Federal ranks
were diminished by six hundred; the Confederate force by more than seven
hundred. Kernstown was a Union victory; yet never in history did victory
bring such ultimate disaster upon the victors.

At Washington the alarm was intense over Jackson's audacious attack.
Williams' division of Banks' troops was halted on its way to Manassas and
sent back to Winchester. Mr. Lincoln transferred Blenker's division, nine
thousand strong, to Fremont. These things were done at once, but they were
by no means the most momentous consequence of Kernstown. The President
began to fear that Jackson's goal was Washington. After consulting six of
his generals he became convinced that McClellan had not arranged proper
protection for the city. Therefore, McDowell and his corps of thirty-seven
thousand men were ordered to remain at Manassas. The Valley grew to
greater importance in the Federal eyes. Banks was made entirely
independent of McClellan and the defense of this region became his sole
task. McClellan, to his great chagrin, saw his force depleted by forty-six
thousand men. There were now four Union generals in the East operating
independently one of the other.

General Ewell with eight thousand troops on the upper Rappahannock and
General Johnson with two brigades were now ordered to cooperate with
Jackson. These reënforcements were badly needed. Schenck and Milroy, of
Fremont's corps, began to threaten Johnson. Banks, with twenty thousand,
was near Harrisonburg.

The Confederate leader left General Ewell to watch Banks while he made a
dash for Milroy and Schenck. He fought them at McDowell on May 8th and
they fled precipitately to rejoin Fremont. The swift-acting Jackson now
darted at Banks, who had fortified himself at Strasburg. Jackson stopped
long enough to be joined by Ewell. He did not attack Strasburg, but stole
across the Massanutten Mountain unknown to Banks, and made for Front
Royal, where a strong Union detachment was stationed under Colonel Kenly.
Early on the afternoon of May 23d, Ewell rushed from the forest. Kenly and
his men fled before them toward Winchester. A large number were captured
by the cavalry before they had gotten more than four miles away.

Banks at Strasburg realized that Jackson was approaching from the rear,
the thing he had least expected and had made no provision for. His
fortifications protected his front alone. There was nothing to be done but
retreat to Winchester. Even that was prevented by the remarkable speed of
Jackson's men, who could march as much as thirty-five miles a day. On May
24th, the Confederates overtook and struck the receding Union flank near
Newtown, inflicting heavy loss and taking many prisoners. Altogether,
three thousand of Banks' men fell into Jackson's hands.

This exploit was most opportune for the Southern arms. It caused the final
ruin of McClellan's hopes. Banks received one more attack from Ewell's
division the next day as he passed through Winchester on his way to the
shelter of the Potomac. He crossed at Williamsport late the same evening
and wrote the President that his losses, though serious enough, might have
been far worse "considering the very great disparity of forces engaged,
and the long-matured plans of the enemy, which aimed at nothing less than
entire capture of our force." Mr. Lincoln now rescinded his resolution to
send McDowell to McClellan. Instead, he transferred twenty thousand of the
former's men to Fremont and informed McClellan that he was not, after all,
to have the aid of McDowell's forty thousand men.

Fremont was coming from the west; Shields lay in the other direction, but
Jackson was not the man to be trapped. He managed to hold Fremont while he
marched his main force quickly up the Valley. At Port Republic he drove
Carroll's brigade of Shields' division away and took possession of a
bridge which Colonel Carroll had neglected to burn. Fremont in pursuit was
defeated by Ewell at Cross Keys. Jackson immediately put his force of
twelve thousand over the Shenandoah at Port Republic and burned the
bridge. Safe from the immediate attack by Fremont, he fell upon Tyler and
Carroll, who had not more than three thousand men between them. The
Federals made a brave stand, but after many hours' fighting were compelled
to retreat. Jackson emerged through Swift Run Gap on the 17th of June, to
assist in turning the Union right on the Peninsula, and Banks and Shields,
baffled and checkmated at every move, finally withdrew from the Valley.



It is the great good fortune of American hero-lovers that they can gaze
here upon the features of Thomas Jonathan Jackson precisely as that
brilliant Lieutenant-General of the Confederate States Army appeared
during his masterly "Valley Campaign" of 1862. Few photographers dared to
approach this man, whose silence and modesty were as deep as his mastery
of warfare. Jackson lived much to himself. Indeed, his plans were rarely
known even to his immediate subordinates, and herein lay the secret of
those swift and deadly surprises that raised him to first rank among the
world's military figures. Jackson's ability and efficiency won the utter
confidence of his ragged troops; and their marvelous forced marches, their
contempt for privations if under his guidance, put into his hands a living
weapon such as no other leader in the mighty conflict had ever wielded.



The women of the mountain districts of Virginia were as ready to do scout
and spy work for the Confederate leaders as were their men-folk. Famous
among these fearless girls who knew every inch of the regions in which
they lived was Nancy Hart. So valuable was her work as a guide, so
cleverly and often had she led Jackson's cavalry upon the Federal outposts
in West Virginia, that the Northern Government offered a large reward for
her capture. Lieutenant-Colonel Starr of the Ninth West Virginia finally
caught her at Summerville in July, 1862. While in a temporary prison, she
faced the camera for the first time in her life, displaying more alarm in
front of the innocent contrivance than if it had been a body of Federal
soldiery. She posed for an itinerant photographer, and her captors placed
the hat decorated with a military feather upon her head. Nancy managed to
get hold of her guard's musket, shot him dead, and escaped on Colonel
Starr's horse to the nearest Confederate detachment. A few days later,
July 25th, she led two hundred troopers under Major Bailey to Summerville.
They reached the town at four in the morning, completely surprising two
companies of the Ninth West Virginia. They fired three houses, captured
Colonel Starr, Lieutenant Stivers and other officers, and a large number
of the men, and disappeared immediately over the Sutton road. The Federals
made no resistance.



Blenker's division, composed of three brigades of German volunteers, was
detached from the Army of the Potomac in March, 1862, to assist Frémont in
his operations against Jackson. The German troops were but poorly
equipped, many of them carrying old-pattern Belgian and Austrian muskets.
When they united with Frémont he was obliged to rearm them with
Springfield rifles from his own stores. When the combined forces met
Jackson and Ewell at Cross Keys, five of Blenker's regiments were sent
forward to the first attack. In the picture Brigadier-General Louis
Blenker is standing, with his hand on his belt, before the door. At his
left is Prince Felix Salm-Salm, a Prussian military officer, who joined
the Federal army as a colonel of volunteers. At the right of Blenker is
General Stahel, who led the advance of the Federal left at Cross Keys.

[Illustration: FLANKING THE ENEMY.

_Painted by J. W. Gies._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    McClellan's one hope, one purpose, was to march his army out of the
    swamps and escape from the ceaseless Confederate assaults to a point
    on James River where the resistless fire of the gunboats might protect
    his men from further attack and give them a chance to rest. To that
    end, he retreated night and day, standing at bay now and then as the
    hunted stag does, and fighting desperately for the poor privilege of
    running away.

    And the splendid fighting of his men was a tribute to the skill and
    genius with which he had created an effective army out of what he had
    described as "regiments cowering upon the banks of the Potomac, some
    perfectly raw, others dispirited by recent defeat, others going home."
    Out of a demoralized and disorganized mass reënforced by utterly
    untrained civilians, McClellan had within a few months created an army
    capable of stubbornly contesting every inch of ground even while
    effecting a retreat the very thought of which might well have
    disorganized an army.--_George Cary Eggleston, in "The History of the
    Confederate War."_

General Lee was determined that the operations in front of Richmond should
not degenerate into a siege, and that the Army of Northern Virginia should
no longer be on the defensive. To this end, early in the summer of 1862,
he proceeded to increase his fighting force so as to make it more nearly
equal in number to that of his antagonist. Every man who could be spared
from other sections of the South was called to Richmond. Numerous
earthworks soon made their appearance along the roads and in the fields
about the Confederate capital, giving the city the appearance of a
fortified camp. The new commander in an address to the troops said that
the army had made its last retreat.

Meanwhile, with the spires of Richmond in view, the Army of the Potomac
was acclimating itself to a Virginia summer. The whole face of the country
for weeks had been a veritable bog. Now that the sweltering heat of June
was coming on, the malarious swamps were fountains of disease. The
polluted waters of the sluggish streams soon began to tell on the health
of the men. Malaria and typhoid were prevalent; the hospitals were
crowded, and the death rate was appalling.

Such conditions were not inspiring to either general or army. McClellan
was still hoping for substantial reënforcements. McDowell, with his forty
thousand men, had been promised him, but he was doomed to disappointment
from that source. Yet in the existing state of affairs he dared not be
inactive. South of the Chickahominy, the army was almost secure from
surprise, owing to well-protected rifle-pits flanked by marshy thickets or
covered with felled trees. But the Federal forces were still divided by
the fickle stream, and this was a constant source of anxiety to the
commander. He proceeded to transfer all of his men to the Richmond side of
the river, excepting the corps of Franklin and Fitz John Porter. About the
middle of June, General McCall with a force of eleven thousand men joined
the Federal army north of the Chickahominy, bringing the entire fighting
strength to about one hundred and five thousand. So long as there remained
the slightest hope of additional soldiers, it was impossible to withdraw
all of the army from the York side of the Peninsula, and it remained

That was a brilliant initial stroke of the Confederate general when he
sent his famous cavalry leader, J. E. B. Stuart, with about twelve hundred
Virginia troopers, to encircle the army of McClellan. Veiling his
intentions with the utmost secrecy, Stuart started June 12, 1862, in the
direction of Fredericksburg as if to reënforce "Stonewall" Jackson. The
first night he bivouacked in the pine woods of Hanover. No fires were
kindled, and when the morning dawned, his men swung upon their mounts
without the customary bugle-call of "Boots and Saddles." Turning to the
east, he surprised and captured a Federal picket; swinging around a corner
of the road, he suddenly came upon a squadron of Union cavalry. The
Confederate yell rent the air and a swift, bold charge by the Southern
troopers swept the foe on.

They had not traveled far when they came again to a force drawn up in
columns of fours, ready to dispute the passage of the road. This time the
Federals were about to make the charge. A squadron of the Confederates
moved forward to meet them. Some Union skirmishers in their effort to get
to the main body of their troops swept into the advancing Confederates and
carried the front ranks of the squadron with them. These isolated
Confederates found themselves in an extremely perilous position, being
gradually forced into the Federal main body. Before they could extricate
themselves, nearly every one in the unfortunate front rank was shot or cut

The Southern cavalrymen swept on and presently found themselves nearing
the York River Railroad--McClellan's supply line. As they approached
Tunstall's Station they charged down upon it, with their characteristic
yell, completely surprising a company of Federal infantry stationed there.
These at once surrendered. Telegraph wires were cut and a tree felled
across the track to obstruct the road. This had hardly been done before
the shriek of a locomotive was heard. A train bearing Union troops came
thundering along, approaching the station. The engineer, taking in the
situation at a glance, put on a full head of steam and made a rush for the
obstruction, which was easily brushed aside. As the train went through a
cut the Confederates fired upon it, wounding and killing some of the
Federal soldiers in the cars.

Riding all through a moonlit night, the raiders reached Sycamore Ford of
the Chickahominy at break of day. As usual this erratic stream was
overflowing its banks. They started to ford it, but finding that it would
be a long and wearisome task, a bridge was hastily improvised at another
place where the passage was made with more celerity. Now, on the south
bank of the river, haste was made for the confines of Richmond, where, at
dawn of the following day, the troopers dropped from their saddles, a
weary but happy body of cavalry.

Lee thus obtained exact and detailed information of the position of
McClellan's army, and he laid out his campaign accordingly. Meanwhile his
own forces in and about Richmond were steadily increasing. He was planning
for an army of nearly one hundred thousand and he now demonstrated his
ability as a strategist. Word had been despatched to Jackson in the
Shenandoah to bring his troops to fall upon the right wing of McClellan's
army. At the same time Lee sent General Whiting north to make a feint of
joining Jackson and moving upon Washington. The ruse proved eminently
successful. The authorities at Washington were frightened, and McClellan
received no more reënforcements. Jackson now began a hide-and-seek game
among the mountains, and managed to have rumors spread of his army being
in several places at the same time, while skilfully veiling his actual

It was not until the 25th of June that McClellan had definite knowledge of
Jackson's whereabouts. He was then located at Ashland, north of the
Chickahominy, within striking distance of the Army of the Potomac.
McClellan was surprised but he was not unprepared. Seven days before he
had arranged for a new base of supplies on the James, which would now
prove useful if he were driven south of the Chickahominy.

On the very day he heard of Jackson's arrival at Ashland, McClellan was
pushing his men forward to begin his siege of Richmond--that variety of
warfare which his engineering soul loved so well. His advance guard was
within four miles of the Confederate capital. His strong fortifications
were bristling upon every vantage point, and his fond hope was that within
a few days, at most, his efficient artillery, for which the Army of the
Potomac was famous, would be belching forth its sheets of fire and lead
into the beleagured city. In front of the Union encampment, near Fair
Oaks, was a thick entanglement of scrubby pines, vines, and ragged bushes,
full of ponds and marshes. This strip of woodland was less than five
hundred yards wide. Beyond it was an open field half a mile in width. The
Union soldiers pressed through the thicket to see what was on the other
side and met the Confederate pickets among the trees. The advancing column
drove them back. Upon emerging into the open, the Federal troops found it
filled with rifle-pits, earthworks, and redoubts. At once they were met
with a steady and incessant fire, which continued from eight in the
morning until five in the afternoon. At times the contest almost reached
the magnitude of a battle, and in the end the Union forces occupied the
former position of their antagonists. This passage of arms, sometimes
called the affair of Oak Grove or the Second Battle of Fair Oaks, was the
prelude to the Seven Days' Battles.

The following day, June 26th, had been set by General "Stonewall" Jackson
as the date on which he would join Lee, and together they would fall upon
the right wing of the Army of the Potomac. The Federals north of the
Chickahominy were under the direct command of General Fitz John Porter.
Defensive preparations had been made on an extensive scale. Field works,
heavily armed with artillery, and rifle-pits, well manned, covered the
roads and open fields and were often concealed by timber from the eye of
the opposing army. The extreme right of the Union line lay near
Mechanicsville on the upper Chickahominy. A tributary of this stream from
the north was Beaver Dam Creek, upon whose left bank was a steep bluff,
commanding the valley to the west. This naturally strong position, now
well defended, was almost impregnable to an attack from the front.

Before sunrise of the appointed day the Confederate forces were at the
Chickahominy bridges, awaiting the arrival of Jackson. To reach these some
of the regiments had marched the greater part of the night. For once
Jackson was behind time. The morning hours came and went. Noon passed and
Jackson had not arrived. At three o'clock, General A. P. Hill, growing
impatient, decided to put his troops in motion. Crossing at Meadow Bridge,
he marched his men along the north side of the Chickahominy, and at
Mechanicsville was joined by the commands of Longstreet and D. H. Hill.
Driving the Union outposts to cover, the Confederates swept across the low
approach to Beaver Dam Creek. A murderous fire from the batteries on the
cliff poured into their ranks. Gallantly the attacking columns withstood
the deluge of leaden hail and drew near the creek. A few of the more
aggressive reached the opposite bank but their repulse was severe.

Later in the afternoon relief was sent to Hill, who again attempted to
force the Union position at Ellerson's Mill, where the slope of the west
bank came close to the borders of the little stream. From across the open
fields, in full view of the defenders of the cliff, the Confederates moved
down the slope. They were in range of the Federal batteries, but the fire
was reserved. Every artilleryman was at his post ready to fire at the
word; the soldiers were in the rifle-pits sighting along the glittering
barrels of their muskets with fingers on the triggers. As the approaching
columns reached the stream they turned with the road that ran parallel to
the bank.

From every waiting field-piece the shells came screaming through the air.
Volley after volley of musketry was poured into the flanks of the marching
Southerners. The hillside was soon covered with the victims of the gallant
charge. Twilight fell upon the warring troops and there were no signs of a
cessation of the unequal combat. Night fell, and still from the heights
the lurid flames burst in a display of glorious pyrotechnics. It was nine
o'clock when Hill finally drew back his shattered regiments, to await the
coming of the morning. The Forty-fourth Georgia regiment suffered most in
the fight; three hundred and thirty-five being the dreadful toll, in dead
and wounded, paid for its efforts to break down the Union position.
Dropping back to the rear this ill-fated regiment attempted to re-form its
broken ranks, but its officers were all among those who had fallen. Both
armies now prepared for another day and a renewal of the conflict.

The action at Beaver Dam Creek convinced McClellan that Jackson was really
approaching with a large force, and he decided to begin his change of base
from the Pamunkey to the James, leaving Porter and the Fifth Corps still
on the left bank of the Chickahominy, to prevent Jackson's fresh troops
from interrupting this great movement. It was, indeed, a gigantic
undertaking, for it involved marching an army of a hundred thousand men,
including cavalry and artillery, across the marshy peninsula. A train of
five thousand heavily loaded wagons and many siege-guns had to be
transported; nearly three thousand cattle on the hoof had to be driven.
From White House the supplies could be shipped by the York River Railroad
as far as Savage's Station. Thence to the James, a distance of seventeen
miles, they had to be carried overland along a road intersected by many
others from which a watchful opponent might easily attack. General Casey's
troops, guarding the supplies at White House, were transferred by way of
the York and the James to Harrison's Landing on the latter river. The
transports were loaded with all the material they could carry. The rest
was burned, or put in cars. These cars, with locomotives attached, were
then run into the river.

On the night of June 26th, McCall's Federal division, at Beaver Dam Creek,
was directed to fall back to the bridges across the Chickahominy near
Gaines' Mill and there make a stand, for the purpose of holding the
Confederate army. During the night the wagon trains and heavy guns were
quietly moved across the river. Just before daylight the operation of
removing the troops began. The Confederates were equally alert, for about
the same time they opened a heavy fire on the retreating columns. This
march of five miles was a continuous skirmish; but the Union forces, ably
and skilfully handled, succeeded in reaching their new position on the
Chickahominy heights.

The morning of the new day was becoming hot and sultry as the men of the
Fifth Corps made ready for action in their new position. The selection of
this ground had been well made; it occupied a series of heights fronted on
the west by a sickle-shaped stream. The battle-lines followed the course
of this creek, in the arc of a circle curving outward in the direction of
the approaching army. The land beyond the creek was an open country,
through which Powhite Creek meandered sluggishly, and beyond this a wood
densely tangled with undergrowth. Around the Union position were also many
patches of wooded land affording cover for the troops and screening the
reserves from view.

Porter had learned from deserters and others that Jackson's forces, united
to those of Longstreet and the two Hills, were advancing with grim
determination to annihilate the Army of the Potomac. He had less than
eighteen thousand men to oppose the fifty thousand Confederates. To
protect the Federals, trees had been felled along a small portion of their
front, out of which barriers protected with rails and knapsacks were
erected. Porter had considerable artillery, but only a small part of it
could be used. It was two o'clock, on June 27th, when General A. P. Hill
swung his division into line for the attack. He was unsupported by the
other divisions, which had not yet arrived, but his columns moved rapidly
toward the Union front. The assault was terrific, but twenty-six guns
threw a hail-storm of lead into his ranks. Under the cover of this
magnificent execution of artillery, the infantry sent messages of death to
the approaching lines of gray.

The Confederate front recoiled from the incessant outpour of grape,
canister, and shell. The heavy cloud of battle smoke rose lazily through
the air, twisting itself among the trees and settling over the forest like
a pall. The tremendous momentum of the repulse threw the Confederates into
great confusion. Men were separated from their companies and for a time it
seemed as if a rout were imminent. The Federals, pushing out from under
the protection of their great guns, now became the assailants. The
Southerners were being driven back. Many had left the field in disorder.
Others threw themselves on the ground to escape the withering fire, while
some tenaciously held their places. This lasted for two hours. General
Slocum arrived with his division of Franklin's corps, and his arrival
increased the ardor of the victorious Federals.

It was then that Lee ordered a general attack upon the entire Union front.
Reenforcements were brought to take the place of the shattered regiments.
The engagement began with a sharp artillery fire from the Confederate
guns. Then the troops moved forward, once more to assault the Union
position. In the face of a heavy fire they rushed across the sedgy
lowland, pressed up the hillside at fearful sacrifice and pushed against
the Union front. It was a death grapple for the mastery of the field.
General Lee, sitting on his horse on an eminence where he could observe
the progress of the battle, saw, coming down the road, General Hood, of
Jackson's corps, who was bringing his brigade into the fight. Riding
forward to meet him, Lee directed that he should try to break the line.
Hood, disposing his men for the attack, sent them forward, but, reserving
the Fourth Texas for his immediate command, he marched it into an open
field, halted, and addressed it, giving instructions that no man should
fire until ordered and that all should keep together in line.

The forward march was sounded, and the intrepid Hood, leading his men,
started for the Union breastworks eight hundred yards away. They moved at
a rapid pace across the open, under a continually increasing shower of
shot and shell. At every step the ranks grew thinner and thinner. As they
reached the crest of a small ridge, one hundred and fifty yards from the
Union line, the batteries in front and on the flank sent a storm of shell
and canister plowing into their already depleted files. They quickened
their pace as they passed down the slope and across the creek. Not a shot
had they fired and amid the sulphurous atmosphere of battle, with the wing
of death hovering over all, they fixed bayonets and dashed up the hill
into the Federal line. With a shout they plunged through the felled timber
and over the breastworks. The Union line had been pierced and was giving
way. It was falling back toward the Chickahominy bridges, and the retreat
was threatening to develop into a general rout. The twilight was closing
in and the day was all but lost to the Army of the Potomac. Now a great
shout was heard from the direction of the bridge and, pushing through the
stragglers at the river bank were seen the brigades of French and Meagher,
detached from Sumner's corps, coming to the rescue. General Meagher, in
his shirt sleeves, was leading his men up the bluff and confronted the
Confederate battle line. This put a stop to the pursuit and as night was
at hand the Southern soldiers withdrew. The battle of Gaines' Mill, or the
Chickahominy, was over.

When Lee came to the banks of the little river the next morning he found
his opponent had crossed over and destroyed the bridges. The Army of the
Potomac was once more united. During the day the Federal wagon trains were
safely passed over White Oak Swamp and then moved on toward the James
River. Lee did not at first divine McClellan's intention. He still
believed that the Federal general would retreat down the Peninsula, and
hesitated therefore to cross the Chickahominy and give up the command of
the lower bridges. But now on the 29th the signs of the movement to the
James were unmistakable. Early on that morning Longstreet and A. P. Hill
were ordered to recross the Chickahominy by the New Bridge and Huger and
Magruder were sent in hot pursuit of the Federal forces. It was the brave
Sumner who covered the march of the retreating army, and as he stood in
the open field near Savage's Station he looked out over the plain and saw
with satisfaction the last of the ambulances and wagons making their way
toward the new haven on the James.

In the morning of that same day he had already held at bay the forces of
Magruder at Allen's Farm. On his way from Fair Oaks, which he left at
daylight, he had halted his men at what is known as the "Peach Orchard,"
and from nine o'clock till eleven had resisted a spirited fire of musketry
and artillery. And now as the grim warrior, on this Sunday afternoon in
June, turned his eyes toward the Chickahominy he saw a great cloud of dust
rising on the horizon. It was raised by the troops of General Magruder who
was pressing close behind the Army of the Potomac. The Southern field-guns
were placed in position. A contrivance, consisting of a heavy gun mounted
on a railroad car and called the "Land Merrimac," was pushed into position
and opened fire upon the Union forces. The battle began with a fine play
of artillery. For an hour not a musket was fired. The army of blue
remained motionless. Then the mass of gray moved across the field and from
the Union guns the long tongues of flame darted into the ranks before
them. The charge was met with vigor and soon the battle raged over the
entire field. Both sides stood their ground till darkness again closed the
contest, and nearly eight hundred brave men had fallen in this Sabbath
evening's battle. Before midnight Sumner had withdrawn his men and was
following after the wagon trains.

The Confederates were pursuing McClellan's army in two columns, Jackson
closely following Sumner, while Longstreet was trying to cut off the Union
forces by a flank movement. On the last day of June, at high noon, Jackson
reached the White Oak Swamp. But the bridge was gone. He attempted to ford
the passage, but the Union troops were there to prevent it. While Jackson
was trying to force his way across the stream, there came to him the sound
of a desperate battle being fought not more than two miles away, but he
was powerless to give aid.

Longstreet and A. P. Hill had come upon the Federal regiments at Glendale,
near the intersection of the Charles City road, guarding the right flank
of the retreat. It was Longstreet who, about half-past two, made one of
his characteristic onslaughts on that part of the Union army led by
General McCall. It was repulsed with heavy loss. Again and again attacks
were made. Each brigade seemed to act on its own behalf. They hammered
here, there, and everywhere. Repulsed at one place they charged at
another. The Eleventh Alabama, rushing out from behind a dense wood,
charged across the open field in the face of the Union batteries. The men
had to run a distance of six hundred yards. A heavy and destructive fire
poured into their lines, but on they came, trailing their guns. The
batteries let loose grape and canister, while volley after volley of
musketry sent its death-dealing messages among the Southerners. But
nothing except death itself could check their impetuous charge. When two
hundred yards away they raised the Confederate yell and rushed for
Randol's battery.

Pausing for an instant they deliver a volley and attempt to seize the
guns. Bayonets are crossed and men engage in a hand-to-hand struggle. The
contending masses rush together, asking and giving no quarter and
struggling like so many tigers. Darkness is closing on the fearful scene,
yet the fighting continues with unabated ferocity. There are the shouts of
command, the clash and the fury of the battle, the sulphurous smoke, the
flashes of fire streaking through the air, the yells of defiance, the
thrust, the parry, the thud of the clubbed musket, the hiss of the bullet,
the spouting blood, the death-cry, and beneath all lie the bodies of
America's sons, some in blue and some in gray.

While Lee and his army were held in check by the events of June 30th at
White Oak Swamp and the other battle at Glendale or Nelson's Farm, the
last of the wagon trains had arrived safely at Malvern Hill. The contest
had hardly closed and the smoke had scarcely lifted from the blood-soaked
field, when the Union forces were again in motion toward the James. By
noon on July 1st the last division reached the position where McClellan
decided to turn again upon his assailants. He had not long to wait, for
the Confederate columns, led by Longstreet, were close on his trail, and a
march of a few miles brought them to the Union outposts. They found the
Army of the Potomac admirably situated to give defensive battle. Malvern
Hill, a plateau, a mile and a half long and half as broad, with its top
almost bare of woods, commanded a view of the country over which the
Confederate army must approach. Along the western face of this plateau
there are deep ravines falling abruptly in the direction of the James
River; on the north and east is a gentle slope to the plain beneath,
bordered by a thick forest. Around the summit of the hill, General
McClellan had placed tier after tier of batteries, arranged like an
amphitheater. Surmounting these on the crest were massed seven of his
heaviest siege-guns. His army surrounded this hill, its left flank being
protected by the gunboats on the river.

The morning and early afternoon were occupied with many Confederate
attacks, sometimes formidable in their nature, but Lee planned for no
general move until he could bring up a force that he considered sufficient
to attack the strong Federal position. The Confederate orders were to
advance when the signal, a yell, cheer, or shout from the men of
Armistead's brigade, was given.

Late in the afternoon General D. H. Hill heard some shouting, followed by
a roar of musketry. No other general seems to have heard it, for Hill made
his attack alone. It was gallantly done, but no army could have withstood
the galling fire of the batteries of the Army of the Potomac as they were
massed upon Malvern Hill. All during the evening, brigade after brigade
tried to force the Union lines. The gunners stood coolly and manfully by
their batteries. The Confederates were not able to make concerted efforts,
but the battle waxed hot nevertheless. They were forced to breast one of
the most devastating storms of lead and canister to which an assaulting
army has ever been subjected. The round shot and grape cut through the
branches of the trees and the battle-field was soon in a cloud of smoke.
Column after column of Southern soldiers rushed up to the death-dealing
cannon, only to be mowed down. The thinned and ragged lines, with a valor
born of desperation, rallied again and again to the charge, but to no
avail. The batteries on the heights still hurled their missiles of death.
The field below was covered with the dead and wounded of the Southland.

The gunboats in the river made the battle scene more awe-inspiring with
their thunderous cannonading. Their heavy shells shrieked through the
forest, and great limbs were torn from the trees as they hurtled by in
their outburst of fury.

Night was falling. The combatants were no longer distinguishable except by
the sheets of flame. It was nine o'clock before the guns ceased their
fire, and only an occasional shot rang out over the bloody field of
Malvern Hill.

The courageous though defeated Confederate, looking up the next day
through the drenching rain to where had stood the embrasured wall with its
grim batteries and lines of blue, that spoke death to so many of his
companions-in-arms, saw only deserted ramparts. The Union army had
retreated in the darkness of the night. But this time no foe harassed its
march. Unmolested, it sought its new camp at Harrison's Landing, where it
remained until August 3d, when, as President Lincoln had been convinced of
the impracticability of operating from the James River as a base, orders
were issued by General Halleck for the withdrawal of the Army of the
Potomac from the Peninsula.

The net military result of the Seven Days was a disappointment to the
South. Although thankful that the siege of Richmond had been raised, the
Southern public believed that McClellan should not have been allowed to
reach the James River with his army intact.

"That army," Eggleston states, "splendidly organized, superbly equipped,
and strengthened rather than weakened in morale, lay securely at rest on
the James River, within easy striking distance of Richmond. There was no
knowing at what moment McClellan might hurl it again upon Richmond or upon
that commanding key to Richmond--the Petersburg position. In the hands of
a capable commander McClellan's army would at this time have been a more
serious menace than ever to the Confederate capital, for it now had an
absolutely secure and unassailable base of operations, while its fighting
quality had been improved rather than impaired by its seven days of

General Lee's own official comment on the military problem involved and
the difficulties encountered was: "Under ordinary circumstances the
Federal army should have been destroyed. Its escape was due to the causes
already stated. Prominent among these is the want of correct and timely
information. This fact, attributable chiefly to the character of the
country, enabled General McClellan skilfully to conceal his retreat and to
add much to the obstructions with which nature had beset the way of our
pursuing columns; but regret that more was not accomplished gives way to
gratitude to the Sovereign Ruler of the Universe for the results

Whatever the outcome of the Seven Days' Battle another year was to
demonstrate beyond question that the wounding of General Johnston at Fair
Oaks had left the Confederate army with an even abler commander. On such a
field as Chancellorsville was to be shown the brilliancy of Lee as leader,
and his skilful maneuvers leading to the invasion of the North. And the
succeeding volume will tell, on the other hand, how strong and compact a
fighting force had been forged from the raw militia and volunteers of the



In General McClellan's plan for the Peninsula Campaign of 1862, General
McDowell, with the First Army Corps of 37,000 men, was assigned a most
important part, that of joining him before Richmond. Lincoln had
reluctantly consented to the plan, fearing sufficient protection was not
provided for Washington. By the battle of Kernstown, March 23d, in the
Valley of Virginia, Jackson, though defeated, so alarmed the
Administration that McDowell was ordered to remain at Manassas to protect
the capital. The reverse at Kernstown was therefore a real triumph for
Jackson, but with his small force he had to keep up the game of holding
McDowell, Banks, and Frémont from reënforcing McClellan. If he failed,
80,000 troops might move up to Richmond from the west while McClellan was
approaching from the North. But Jackson, on May 23d and 25th, surprised
Banks' forces at Front Royal and Winchester, forcing a retreat to the
Potomac. At the news of this event McDowell was ordered not to join
McClellan in front of Richmond.


_Copyright by Review of Reviews Co._]

These men look enough alike to be brothers. They were so in arms, at West
Point, in Mexico and throughout the war. General Joseph E. Johnston (on
the left), who had led the Confederate forces since Bull Run, was wounded
at Fair Oaks. That wound gave Robert E. Lee (on the right) his opportunity
to act as leader. After Fair Oaks, Johnston retired from the command of
the army defending Richmond. The new commander immediately grasped the
possibilities of the situation which confronted him. The promptness and
completeness with which he blighted McClellan's high hopes of reaching
Richmond showed at one stroke that the Confederacy had found its great
general. It was only through much sifting that the North at last picked
military leaders that could rival him in the field.




White House, Virginia, June 27, 1862.--Up the James and the Pamunkey to
White House Landing came the steam and sailing vessels laden with supplies
for McClellan's second attempt to reach Richmond. Tons of ammunition and
thousands of rations were sent forward from here to the army on the
Chickahominy in June, 1862. A short month was enough to cause McClellan to
again change his plans, and the army base was moved to the James River.
The Richmond and York Railroad was lit up by burning cars along its course
to the Chickahominy. Little was left to the Confederates save the charred
ruins of the White House itself.


Not until after nightfall of June 26, 1862, did the Confederates of
General A. P. Hill's division cease their assaults upon this position
where General McCall's men were strongly entrenched. Time after time the
Confederates charged over the ground we see here at Ellerson's Mill, near
Mechanicsville. Till 9 o'clock at night they continued to pour volleys at
the position, and then at last withdrew. The victory was of little use to
the Federals, for Jackson on the morrow, having executed one of the
flanking night marches at which he was an adept, fell upon the Federal
rear at Gaines' Mill.

[Illustration: THE WASTE OF WAR


Railroad trains loaded with tons of food and ammunition were run
deliberately at full speed off the embankment shown in the left
foreground. They plunged headlong into the waters of the Pamunkey. This
was the readiest means that McClellan could devise for keeping his immense
quantity of stores out of the hands of the Confederates in his hasty
change of base from White House to the James after Gaines' Mill. This was
the bridge of the Richmond and York River Railroad, and was destroyed June
28, 1862, to render the railroad useless to the Confederates.


The force under General McCall was stationed by McClellan on June 19,
1862, to observe the Meadow and Mechanicsville bridges over the
Chickahominy which had only partially been destroyed. On the afternoon of
June 26th, General A. P. Hill crossed at Meadow Bridge, driving the Union
skirmish-line back to Beaver Dam Creek. The divisions of D. H. Hill and
Longstreet had been waiting at Mechanicsville Bridge (shown in this
photograph) since 8 A.M. for A. P. Hill to open the way for them to cross.
They passed over in time to bear a decisive part in the Confederate attack
at Gaines' Mill on the 27th.

[Illustration: DOING DOUBLE DUTY


Here are some of McClellan's staff-officers during the strenuous period of
the Seven Days' Battles. One commonly supposes that a general's staff has
little to do but wear gold lace and transmit orders. But it is their duty
to multiply the eyes and ears and thinking power of the leader. Without
them he could not direct the movements of his army. There were so few
regular officers of ripe experience that members of the staff were
invariably made regimental commanders, and frequently were compelled to
divide their time between leading their troops into action and reporting
to and consulting with their superior.




Woodbury's Bridge on the Chickahominy. Little did General D. F. Woodbury's
engineers suspect, when they built this bridge, early in June, 1862, as a
means of communication between the divided wings of McClellan's army on
the Chickahominy that it would be of incalculable service during battle.
When the right wing, under General Fitz John Porter, was engaged on the
field of Gaines' Mill against almost the entire army of Lee, across this
bridge the division of General Slocum marched from its position in the
trenches in front of Richmond on the south bank of the river to the
support of Porter's men. The battle lasted until nightfall and then the
Federal troops moved across this bridge and rejoined the main forces of
the Federal army. Woodbury's engineers built several bridges across the
Chickahominy, but among them all the bridge named for their commander
proved to be, perhaps, the most serviceable.

[Illustration: A VAIN RIDE TO SAFETY]

During the retreat after Gaines' Mill, McClellan's army was straining
every nerve to extricate itself and present a strong front to Lee before
he could strike a telling blow at its untenable position. Wagon trains
were struggling across the almost impassable White Oak Swamp, while the
troops were striving to hold Savage's Station to protect the movement.
Thither on flat cars were sent the wounded as we see them in the picture.
The rear guard of the Army of the Potomac had hastily provided such field
hospital facilities as they could. We see the camp near the railroad with
the passing wagon trains in the lower picture. But attention to these
wounded men was, perforce, secondary to the necessity of holding the
position. Their hopes of relief from their suffering were to be blighted.
Lee was about to fall upon the Federal rear guard at Savage's Station.
Instead of to a haven of refuge, these men were being railroaded toward
the field of carnage, where they must of necessity be left by their
retreating companions.



Here we see part of the encampment to hold which the divisions of
Richardson, Sedgwick, Smith, and Franklin fought valiantly when Magruder
and the Confederates fell upon them, June 29, 1862. Along the Richmond &
York River Railroad, seen in the picture, the Confederates rolled a heavy
rifled gun, mounted on car-wheels. They turned its deadly fire steadily
upon the defenders. The Federals fought fiercely and managed to hold their
ground till nightfall, when hundreds of their bravest soldiers lay on the
field and had to be left alone with their wounded comrades who had arrived
on the flat cars.

[Illustration: A GRIM CAPTURE


The Second and Sixth Corps of the Federal Army repelled a desperate attack
of General Magruder at Savage Station on June 29th. The next day they
disappeared, plunging into the depths of White Oak Swamp, leaving only the
brave medical officers behind, doing what they could to relieve the
sufferings of the men that had to be abandoned. Here we see them at work
upon the wounded, who have been gathered from the field. Nothing but the
strict arrest of the stern sergeant Death can save these men from capture,
and when the Confederates occupied Savage's Station on the morning of June
30th, twenty-five hundred sick and wounded men and their medical
attendants became prisoners of war. The Confederate hospital facilities
were already taxed to their full capacity in caring for Lee's wounded, and
most of these men were confronted on that day with the prospect of
lingering for months in the military prisons of the South. The brave
soldiers lying helpless here were wounded at Gaines' Mill on June 27th and
removed to the great field-hospital established at Savage's Station. The
photograph was taken just before Sumner and Franklin withdrew the
rear-guard of their columns on the morning of June 30th.


_Copyright by Patriot Pub. Co._]

Through this well-nigh impassable morass of White Oak Swamp, across a
single long bridge, McClellan's wagon trains were being hurried the last
days of June, 1862. On the morning of the 30th, the rear-guard of the army
was hastily tramping after them, and by ten o'clock had safely crossed and
destroyed the bridge. They had escaped in the nick of time, for at noon
"Stonewall" Jackson opened fire upon Richardson's division and a terrific
artillery battle ensued for the possession of this, the single crossing by
which it was possible to attack McClellan's rear. The Federal batteries
were compelled to retire but Jackson's crossing was prevented on that day
by the infantry.


Brigadier-General J. H. Martindale (seated) and his staff, July 1, 1862.
Fitz John Porter's Fifth Corps and Couch's division, Fourth Corps, bore
the brunt of battle at Malvern Hill where the troops of McClellan
withstood the terrific attacks of Lee's combined and superior forces.
Fiery "Prince John" Magruder hurled column after column against the left
of the Federal line, but every charge was met and repulsed through the
long hot summer afternoon. Martindale's brigade of the Fifth Corps was
early called into action, and its commander, by the gallant fighting of
his troops, won the brevet of Major-General.

[Illustration: THE NAVY LENDS A HAND


Officers of the _Monitor_ at Malvern Hill. Glad indeed were the men of the
Army of the Potomac as they emerged from their perilous march across White
Oak Swamp to hear the firing of the gunboats on the James. It told them
the Confederates had not yet preëmpted the occupation of Malvern Hill,
which General Fitz John Porter's Corps was holding. Before the battle
opened McClellan went aboard the _Galena_ to consult with Commodore John
Rodgers about a suitable base on the James. The gunboats of the fleet
supported the flanks of the army during the battle and are said to have
silenced one of the Confederate batteries.



Again we see the transports and supply schooners at anchor--this time at
Harrison's Landing on the James River. In about a month, McClellan had
changed the position of his army twice, shifting his base from the
Pamunkey to the James. The position he held on Malvern Hill was abandoned
after the victory of July 1, 1862, and the army marched to a new base
farther down the James, where the heavy losses of men and supplies during
the Seven Days could be made up without danger and delay. Harrison's
Landing was the point selected, and here the army recuperated, wondering
what would be the next step. Below we see the historic mansion which did
service as General Porter's headquarters, one of McClellan's most
efficient commanders. For his services during the Seven Days he was made
Major-General of Volunteers. McClellan was his lifelong friend.


[Illustration: ON DARING DUTY


Lieut.-Colonel Albert V. Colburn, a favorite Aide-de-Camp of General
McClellan's.--Here is the bold soldier of the Green Mountain State who
bore despatches about the fields of battle during the Seven Days. It was
he who was sent galloping across the difficult and dangerous country to
make sure that Franklin's division was retreating from White Oak Swamp,
and then to carry orders to Sumner to fall back on Malvern Hill. Such were
the tasks that constantly fell to the lot of the despatch bearer.
Necessarily a man of quick and accurate judgment, perilous chances
confronted him in his efforts to keep the movements of widely separated
divisions in concert with the plans of the commander. The loss of his life
might mean the loss of a battle; the failure to arrive in the nick of time
with despatches might mean disaster for the army. Only the coolest headed
of the officers could be trusted with this vital work in the field.


_Copyright by Patriot Pub. Co._]

Colonel W. W. Averell and Staff.--This intrepid officer of the Third
Pennsylvania Cavalry held the Federal position on Malvern Hill on the
morning of July 2, 1862, with only a small guard, while McClellan
completed the withdrawal of his army to Harrison's Landing. It was his
duty to watch the movements of the Confederates and hold them back from
any attempt to fall upon the retreating trains and troops. A dense fog in
the early morning shut off the forces of A. P. Hill and Longstreet from
his view. He had not a single fieldpiece with which to resist attack. When
the mist cleared away, he kept up a great activity with his cavalry
horses, making the Confederates believe that artillery was being brought
up. With apparent reluctance he agreed to a truce of two hours in which
the Confederates might bury the dead they left on the hillside the day
before. Later, with an increased show of unwillingness, he extended the
truce for another two hours. Just before they expired, Frank's Battery
arrived to his support, with the news that the Army of the Potomac was
safe. Colonel Averell rejoined it without the loss of a man.



Within a week of the occupation of Harrison's Landing, McClellan's
position had become so strong that the Federal commander no longer
anticipated an attack by the Confederate forces. General Lee saw that his
opponent was flanked on each side by a creek and that approach to his
front was commanded by the guns in the entrenchments and those of the
Federal navy in the river. Lee therefore deemed it inexpedient to attack,
especially as his troops were in poor condition owing to the incessant
marching and fighting of the Seven Days. Rest was what both armies needed
most, and on July 8th the Confederate forces returned to the vicinity of
Richmond. McClellan scoured the country before he was satisfied of the
Confederate withdrawal. The Third and Fourth Pennsylvania cavalry made a
reconnaisance to Charles City Court House and beyond, and General Averell
reported on July 11th that there were no Southern troops south of the
lower Chickahominy. His scouting expeditions extended in the direction of
Richmond and up the Chickahominy.


_Copyright by Patriot Pub. Co._]





The possession of Corinth, Miss., meant the control of the railroads
without which the Federal armies could not push down the Mississippi
Valley and eastward into Tennessee. Autumn found Rosecrans with about
23,000 men in command at the post where were vast quantities of military
stores. On October 3, the indomitable Confederate leaders, Price and Van
Dorn, appeared before Corinth, and Rosecrans believing the movement to be
a feint sent forward a brigade to an advanced position on a hill. A sharp
battle ensued and in a brilliant charge the Confederates at last possessed
the hill. Convinced that there was really to be a determined assault on
Corinth, Rosecrans disposed his forces during the night. Just before dawn
the Confederate cannonade began, the early daylight was passed in
skirmishing, while the artillery duel grew hotter. Then a glittering
column of Price's men burst from the woods. Grape and canister were poured
into them, but on they came, broke through the Federal center and drove
back their opponents to the square of the town. Here the Confederates were
at last swept back. But ere that Van Dorn's troops had hurled themselves
on Battery Robinett to the left of the Federal line, and fought their way
over the parapet and into the battery. Their victory was brief. Federal
troops well placed in concealment rose up and poured volley after volley
into them. They were swept away and Corinth was safe. Rosecrans by a
well-planned defense had kept the key to Grant's subsequent control of the

[Illustration: GENERAL EARL VAN DORN, C. S. A.]


General Earl Van Dorn was born in Mississippi in 1821; he was graduated
from West Point in 1842, and was killed in a personal quarrel in 1863.
Early in the war General Van Dorn had distinguished himself by capturing
the steamer "Star of the West" at Indianola, Texas. He was of a
tempestuous nature and had natural fighting qualities. During the month of
August he commanded all the Confederate troops in Mississippi except those
under General Price, and it was his idea to form a combined movement with
the latter's forces and expel the invading Federals from the northern
portion of his native State and from eastern Tennessee. The concentration
was made and the Confederate army, about 22,000 men, was brought into the
disastrous battle of Corinth. Brave were the charges made on the
entrenched positions, but without avail.

[Illustration: GENERAL STERLING PRICE, C. S. A.]


General Sterling Price was a civilian who by natural inclination turned to
soldiering. He had been made a brigadier-general during the Mexican War,
but early allied himself with the cause of the Confederacy. At Pea Ridge,
only seven months before the battle of Corinth, he had been wounded. Of
the behavior of his men, though they were defeated and turned back on the
4th, he wrote that it was with pride that sisters and daughters of the
South could say of the officers and men, "My brother, father, fought at
Corinth." And nobly they fought indeed. General Van Dorn, in referring to
the end of that bloody battle, wrote these pathetic words: "Exhausted from
loss of sleep, wearied from hard marching and fighting, companies and
regiments without officers, our troops--let no one censure them--gave way.
The day was lost."



The Gathered Confederate Dead Before Battery Robinett--taken the morning
after their desperate attempt to carry the works by assault. No man can
look at this awful picture and wish to go to war. These men, a few hours
before, were full of life and hope and courage. Without the two last
qualities they would not be lying as they are pictured here. In the very
foreground, on the left, lies their leader, Colonel Rogers, and almost
resting on his shoulder is the body of the gallant Colonel Ross. We are
looking from the bottom of the parapet of Battery Robinett. Let an
eye-witness tell of what the men saw who looked toward the houses on that
bright October day, and then glanced along their musket-barrels and pulled
the triggers: "Suddenly we saw a magnificent brigade emerge in our front;
they came forward in perfect order, a grand but terrible sight. At their
head rode the commander, a man of fine physique, in the prime of
life--quiet and cool as though on a drill. The artillery opened, the
infantry followed; notwithstanding the slaughter they were closer and
closer. Their commander [Colonel Rogers] seemed to bear a charmed life. He
jumped his horse across the ditch in front of the guns, and then on foot
came on. When he fell, the battle in our front was over."


_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]

[Illustration: GENERAL JOHN POPE]



Perhaps there is no more pathetic figure in the annals of the War than
Pope. In the West, that fiery furnace where the North's greatest generals
were already being molded, he stood out most prominently in the Spring of
1862. At Washington, the administration was cudgeling its brains for means
to meet the popular clamor for an aggressive campaign against Lee after
the Peninsula fiasco. Pope was sent for and arrived in Washington in June.
When the plan to place him at the head of an army whose three corps
commanders all outranked him, was proposed, he begged to be sent back
West. But he was finally persuaded to undertake a task, the magnitude of
which was not yet appreciated at the North. During a month of preparation
he was too easily swayed by the advice and influenced by the plans of
civilians, and finally issued a flamboyant address to his army ending with
the statement, "My headquarters will be in the saddle." When this was
shown to Lee, he grimly commented, "Perhaps his headquarters will be where
his hindquarters ought to be." There followed the brief campaign, the
stunning collision with the solid front of Stonewall Jackson at Cedar
Mountain, and the clever strategy that took Pope at a disadvantage on the
old battlefield of Bull Run. Thence his army retreated more badly beaten
from a military standpoint than the rout which fled the same field a year
before. A brief summer had marked the rise and fall of Pope. Two years
later Sherman bade good-bye to his friend Grant also summoned from the
West. "Remember Pope," was the gist of his warning; "don't stay in
Washington; keep in the field."


    The Army of Virginia, under Pope, is now to bear the brunt of Lee's
    assault, while the Army of the Potomac is dismembered and sent back
    whence it came, to add in driblets to Pope's effective.--_Colonel
    Theodore A. Dodge, U. S. A., in "A Bird's-Eye View of the Civil War."_

General George B. McClellan, with all his popularity at the beginning, had
failed in his Peninsula campaign to fulfil the expectations of the great
impatient public of the North. At the same time, while the Army of the
Potomac had as yet won no great victories, the men of the West could
triumphantly exhibit the trophies won at Donelson, at Pea Ridge, at
Shiloh, and at Island No. 10. The North thereupon came to believe that the
Western leaders were more able than those of the East. This belief was
shared by the President and his Secretary of War and it led to the
determination to call on the West for help.

The first to be called was General John Pope, who had won national fame by
capturing New Madrid and Island No. 10 on the Mississippi River. In answer
to a telegram from Secretary Stanton, Pope came to Washington in June,
1862. The secretary disclosed the plans on which he and President Lincoln
had agreed, that a new army, to be known as the Army of Virginia, was to
be created out of three corps, then under the respective commands of
Generals McDowell, N. P. Banks, and John C. Fremont. These corps had been
held from the Peninsula campaign for the purpose of protecting Washington.

Pope demurred and begged to be sent back to the West, on the ground that
each of the three corps commanders was his senior in rank and that his
being placed at their head would doubtless create a feeling against him.
But his protests were of no avail and he assumed command of the Army of
Virginia on the 26th of June. McDowell and Banks made no protest; but
Fremont refused to serve under one whom he considered his junior, and
resigned his position. His corps was assigned to General Franz Sigel.

The new commander, General Pope, on the 14th of July, issued an address to
his army that was hardly in keeping with his modesty in desiring at first
to decline the honor that was offered him. "I have come to you from the
West," he proclaimed, "where we have always seen the backs of our
enemies--from an army whose business it has been to seek the adversary and
to beat him when found.... Meantime I desire you to dismiss from your
minds certain phrases which I am sorry to find much in vogue among you. I
hear constantly of ... lines of retreat and bases of supplies. Let us
discard such ideas.... Let us look before us and not behind."

The immediate object of General Pope was to make the capital secure, to
make advances toward Richmond, and, if possible, to draw a portion of
Lee's army away from McClellan. His first objective was Gordonsville. From
this town, not far from the base of the Blue Ridge Mountains, there was a
railroad connecting it with Richmond--a convenient means of furnishing men
and supplies to the Confederate army. Pope decided to occupy the town and
destroy the railroad. To this end he ordered Banks to Culpeper and thence
to send all his cavalry to Gordonsville, capture the town and tear up ten
or fifteen miles of the railroad in the direction of Richmond. But, as if
a prelude to the series of defeats which General Pope was to suffer in the
next six weeks, he failed in this initial movement. The sagacious Lee had
divined his intention and had sent General "Stonewall" Jackson with his
and General Ewell's divisions on July 13th, to occupy Gordonsville. Ewell
arrived in advance of Jackson and held the town for the Confederates.

In the campaign we are describing Jackson was the most active and
conspicuous figure on the Confederate side. He rested at Gordonsville for
two weeks, recuperating his health and that of the army, which had been
much impaired in the malarial district of the Peninsula. The fresh
mountain air blowing down from the Blue Ridge soon brought back their
wonted vigor. On July 27th A. P. Hill was ordered to join him, and the
Confederate leader now had about twenty-five thousand men.

The movement on Gordonsville was exactly in accordance with Jackson's own
ideas which he had urged upon Lee. Although believing McClellan to be in
an impregnable position on the Peninsula, it was not less evident to him
that the Union general would be unable to move further until his army had
been reorganized and reënforced. This was the moment, he argued, to strike
in another direction and carry the conflict into the Federal territory. An
army of at least sixty thousand should march into Maryland and appear
before the National Capital. President Davis could not be won over to the
plan while McClellan was still in a position to be reënforced by sea, but
Lee, seeing that McClellan remained inactive, had determined, by sending
Jackson westward, to repeat the successful tactics of the previous spring
in the Shenandoah valley. Such a move might result in the recall of

And so it happened. No sooner had Halleck assumed command of all the
Northern armies than the matter of McClellan's withdrawal was agitated and
on August 3d the head of the Army of the Potomac, to his bitter
disappointment, was ordered to join Pope on the Rappahannock. Halleck was
much concerned as to how Lee would act during the Federal evacuation of
the Peninsula, uncertain whether the Confederates would attempt to crush
Pope before McClellan could reënforce him, or whether McClellan would be
attacked as soon as he was out of his strong entrenchments at Harrison's

The latter of the two possibilities seemed the more probable, and Pope was
therefore ordered to push his whole army toward Gordonsville, in the hope
that Lee, compelled to strengthen Jackson, would be too weak to fall upon
the retiring Army of the Potomac.

The Union army now occupied the great triangle formed roughly by the
Rappahannock and the Rapidan rivers and the range of the Blue Ridge
Mountains, with Culpeper Court House as the rallying point. Pope soon
found that the capturing of New Madrid and Island No. 10 was easy in
comparison with measuring swords with the Confederate generals in the

On August 6th Pope began his general advance upon Gordonsville. Banks
already had a brigade at Culpeper Court House, and this was nearest to
Jackson. The small settlement was the meeting place of four roads by means
of which Pope's army of forty-seven thousand men would be united. Jackson,
informed of the advance, immediately set his three divisions in motion for
Culpeper, hoping to crush Banks, hold the town, and prevent the uniting of
the Army of Virginia. His progress was slow. The remainder of Banks's
corps reached Culpeper on the 8th. On the morning of the 9th Jackson
finally got his troops over the Rapidan and the Robertson rivers. Two
miles beyond the latter stream there rose from the plain the slope of
Slaughter Mountain, whose ominous name is more often changed into Cedar.
This "mountain" is an isolated foothill of the Blue Ridge, some twenty
miles from the parent range, and a little north of the Rapidan. From its
summit could be seen vast stretches of quiet farmlands which had borne
their annual harvests since the days of the Cavaliers. Its gentle slopes
were covered with forests, which merged at length into waving grain fields
and pasture lands, dotted here and there with rural homes. It was here on
the slope of Cedar Mountain that one of the most severe little battles of
the war took place.

On the banks of Cedar Run, seven miles south of Culpeper and but one or
two north of the mountain, Banks's cavalry were waiting to oppose
Jackson's advance. Learning of this the latter halted and waited for an
attack. He placed Ewell's batteries on the slope about two hundred feet
above the valley and sent General Winder to take a strong position on the
left. So admirably was Jackson's army stationed that it would have
required a much larger force, approaching it from the plains, to dislodge
it. And yet, General Banks made an attempt with an army scarcely one-third
as large as that of Jackson.

General Pope had made glowing promises of certain success and he well knew
that the whole North was eagerly watching and waiting for him to fulfil
them. He must strike somewhere and do it soon--and here was his chance at
Cedar Mountain. He sent Banks with nearly eight thousand men against this
brilliant Southern commander with an army three times as large, holding a
strong position on a mountain side.

Banks with his infantry left Culpeper Court House on the morning of August
9th and reached the Confederate stronghold in the afternoon. He approached
the mountain through open fields in full range of the Confederate cannon,
which presently opened with the roar of thunder. All heedless of danger
the brave men ran up the slope as if to take the foe by storm, when
suddenly they met a brigade of Ewell's division face to face and a brief,
deadly encounter took place. In a few minutes the Confederate right flank
began to waver and would no doubt have been routed but for the timely aid
of another brigade and still another that rushed down the hill and opened
fire on the Federal lines which extended along the eastern bank of Cedar

Meanwhile the Union batteries had been wheeled into position and their
deep roar answered that of the foe on the hill. For two or three hours the
battle continued with the utmost fury. The ground was strewn with dead and
dying and human blood was poured out like water. But the odds were too
great and at length, as the shades of evening were settling over the gory
field, Banks began to withdraw the remnant of his troops. But he left two
thousand of his brave lads--one fourth of his whole army--dead or dying
along the hillside, while the Confederate losses were in excess of
thirteen hundred.

The dead and wounded of both armies lay mingled in masses over the whole
battle-field. While the fighting continued, neither side could send aid or
relief to the maimed soldiers, who suffered terribly from thirst and lack
of attention as the sultry day gave place to a close, oppressive night.

General Pope had remained at Culpeper, but, hearing the continuous
cannonading and knowing that a sharp engagement was going on, hastened to
the battle-field in the afternoon with a fresh body of troops under
General Ricketts, arriving just before dark. He instantly ordered Banks to
withdraw his right wing so as to make room for Ricketts; but the
Confederates, victorious as they had been, refused to continue the contest
against the reënforcements and withdrew to the woods up the mountain side.
Heavy shelling was kept up by the hard-worked artillerymen of both armies
until nearly midnight, while the Federal troops rested on their arms in
line of battle. For two days the armies faced each other across the
valley. Then both quietly withdrew. Pope's first battle as leader of an
Eastern army had resulted in neither victory nor defeat.

[Illustration: A BREATHING SPELL


Federal Encampment at Blackburn's Ford on Bull Run, July 4, 1862. When
McClellan went to the Peninsula in March of 1862 he had expected all of
McDowell's Corps to be sent him as reënforcement before he made the final
advance on Richmond. But the brilliant exploits of Jackson in the
Shenandoah required the retention of all the troops in the vicinity of
Washington. A new army, in fact, was created to make the campaign which
Lincoln had originally wanted McClellan to carry out. The command was
given to General John Pope, whose capture of Island No. 10 in the
Mississippi had brought him into national importance. The corps of Banks,
Frémont, and McDowell were consolidated to form this new army, called the
"Army of Virginia." General Frémont refused to serve under his junior, and
his force was given to Franz Sigel, who had won fame in 1861 in Missouri.
This picture was taken about two weeks after the reorganization was
completed. The soldiers are those of McDowell's Corps. They are on the old
battlefield of Bull Run, enjoying the leisure of camp life, for no
definite plans for the campaign have yet been formed.


Cedar Mountain, Viewed from Pope's Headquarters. On the side of this
mountain Jackson established the right of his battle line, when he
discovered at noon of August 9th that he was in contact with a large part
of Pope's army. He had started from Gordonsville, Pope's objective, to
seize Culpeper Court House, but the combat took place in the valley here
pictured, some five miles southwest of Culpeper, and by nightfall the
fields and slopes were strewn with more than three thousand dead and

[Illustration: IN THE LINE OF FIRE


Where the Confederate General Winder was killed at Cedar Mountain. It was
while directing the movements of four advance batteries that General
Winder was struck by a shell, expiring in a few hours. Jackson reported:
"It is difficult within the proper reserve of an official report to do
justice to the merits of this accomplished officer. Urged by the medical
director to take no part in the movements of the day because of the
enfeebled state of his health, his ardent patriotism and military pride
could bear no such restraint. Richly endowed with those qualities of mind
and person which fit an officer for command and which attract the
admiration and excite the enthusiasm of troops, he was rapidly rising to
the front rank of his profession."



The Hero of the Federal Attack. General Samuel W. Crawford, here seen with
his staff, at Cedar Mountain led a charge on the left flank of the
Confederate forces that came near being disastrous for Jackson. At about
six o'clock the brigade was in line. General Williams reported: "At this
time this brigade occupied the interior line of a strip of woods. A field,
varying from 250 to 500 yards in width, lay between it and the next strip
of woods. In moving across this field the three right regiments and the
six companies of the Third Wisconsin were received by a terrific fire of
musketry. The Third Wisconsin especially fell under a partial flank fire
under which Lieut.-Colonel Crane fell and the regiment was obliged to give
way. Of the three remaining regiments which continued the charge
(Twenty-eighth New York, Forty-sixth Pennsylvania, and Fifth Connecticut)
every field-officer and every adjutant was killed or disabled. In the
Twenty-eighth New York every company officer was killed or wounded; in the
Forty-sixth Pennsylvania all but five; in the Fifth Connecticut all but
eight." It was one of the most heroic combats of the war.

[Illustration: COL. ALFRED N. DUFFIÉ]

A Leader of Cavalry. Colonel Alfred N. Duffié was in command of the First
Rhode Island Cavalry, in the Cavalry Brigade of the Second Division of
McDowell's (Third) Corps in Pope's Army of Virginia. The cavalry had been
used pretty well during Pope's advance. On the 8th of August, the day
before the battle of Cedar Mountain, the cavalry had proceeded south to
the house of Dr. Slaughter. That night Duffié was on picket in advance of
General Crawford's troops, which had come up during the day and pitched
camp. The whole division came to his support on the next day. When the
infantry fell back to the protection of the batteries, the cavalry was
ordered to charge the advancing Confederates. "Officers and men behaved
admirably, and I cannot speak too highly of the good conduct of all of the
brigade," reported General Bayard. After the battle the cavalry covered
the retreat of the artillery and ambulances. On August 18th, when the
retreat behind the Rappahannoc was ordered, the cavalry again checked the
Confederate advance. During the entire campaign the regiment of Colonel
Duffié did yeoman's service.

[Illustration: THE FIRST CLASH


Battlefield of Cedar Mountain, August 9, 1862. Here the Confederate army
in its second advance on Washington first felt out the strength massed
against it. After Lee's brilliant tactics had turned McClellan's Peninsula
Campaign into a fiasco, the Confederate Government resolved to again take
the offensive. Plans were formed for a general invasion of the North, the
objective points ranging from Cincinnati eastward to the Federal capital
and Philadelphia. Immediately after Washington got wind of this, Lincoln
(on August 4th) issued a call for three hundred thousand men, and all
haste was made to rush the forces of McClellan from the Peninsula and of
Cox from West Virginia to the aid of the recently consolidated army under
Pope. On August 9, 1862, the vanguards of "Stonewall" Jackson's army and
of Pope's intercepting forces met at Cedar Mountain. Banks, with the
Second Corps of the Federal army, about eight thousand strong, attacked
Jackson's forces of some sixteen thousand. The charge was so furious that
Jackson's left flank was broken and rolled up, the rear of the center
fired upon, and the whole line thereby thrown into confusion. Banks,
however, received no reënforcements, while Jackson received strong
support. The Federal troops were driven back across the ground which they
had swept clear earlier in the afternoon.


The Battle of Cedar Mountain, August 9, 1862. The lower picture was taken
the day after the battle that had raged for a brief two hours on the
previous evening. After an artillery fire that filled half the afternoon,
the advanced Federal cavalry was pressed back on the infantry supporting
the batteries. Banks underestimated the strength of the Confederates.
Instead of sending to Pope for reënforcements, he ordered a charge on the
approaching troops. The Confederates, still feeling their way, were
unprepared for this movement and were thrown into confusion. But at the
moment when the Federal charge was about to end in success, three brigades
of A. P. Hill in reserve were called up. They forced the Federals to
retrace their steps to the point where the fighting began. Here the
Federal retreat, in turn, was halted by General Pope with reënforcements.
The Confederates moving up their batteries, a short-range artillery fight
was kept up until midnight. At daylight it was found that Ewell and
Jackson had fallen back two miles farther up the mountain. Pope advanced
to the former Confederate ground and rested, after burying the dead. The
following morning the Confederates had disappeared. The loss to both
armies was almost three thousand in killed, wounded and missing. The
battle had accomplished nothing.




When Crawford's troops were driven back by A. P. Hill, he halted on the
edge of a wheatfield, where he was reënforced by the Tenth Maine. For
nearly half an hour it held its own, losing out of its 461 officers and
men 173 in killed and wounded. A few days after the battle some survivors
had a picture taken on the exact spot where they had so courageously
fought. The remains of the cavalry horses can be seen in the trampled
field of wheat. From left to right these men are: Lieutenant Littlefield,
Lieutenant Whitney, Lieut.-Colonel Fillebrown, Captain Knowlton, and
First-Sergeant Jordan, of Company C.



Slaughter's house, overlooking the scene of carnage of Cedar Mountain,
stood on the northern slope in the rear of the position taken by the
Confederate troops under General Ewell. The brigades of Trimble and Hayes
were drawn up near this house, at some distance from the brigade of Early.
After the battle the whole of Jackson's army was drawn up on the slopes
near it.



The Confederate prisoners on the balcony seem to be taking their situation
very placidly. They have evidently been doing some family laundry, and
have hung the results out to dry. The sentries lounging beneath the
colonnade below, and the two languid individuals leaning up against the
porch and tree, add to the peacefulness of the scene. At the battle of
Cedar Mountain, August 9, 1861, the above with other Confederates were
captured and temporarily confined in this county town of Culpeper. Like
several other Virginia towns, it does not boast a name of its own, but is
universally known as Culpeper Court House. A settlement had grown up in
the neighborhood of the courthouse, and the scene was enlivened during the
sessions of court by visitors from miles around.


    The battle was indeed one of which General Lee had good reason to be
    proud. It would be hard to find a better instance of that masterly
    comprehension of the actual condition of things which marks a great
    general than was exhibited in General Lee's allowing our formidable
    attack, in which more than half the Federal army was taking part, to
    be fully developed and to burst upon the exhausted troops of Stonewall
    Jackson, while Lee, relying upon the ability of that able soldier to
    maintain his position, was maturing and arranging for the great attack
    on our left flank by the powerful corps of Longstreet.--_John C.
    Ropes, in "The Army Under Pope."_

The battle of Cedar Mountain was but a prelude to the far greater one that
was to take place three weeks later on the banks of the little stream that
had given its name, the year before, to the first important battle of the
war; and here again the result to be registered was similar to that of the
preceding year--a result that brought dismay to the people of the North
and exultation to the adherents of the Southern cause. The three
intervening weeks between the battles of Cedar Mountain and the Second
Bull Run were spent in sparring, in marshaling the armed hosts, in heavy
skirmishing and getting position for a final decisive struggle.

Two events of this period invite special attention. The respective heroes
were J. E. B. Stuart, the daring Southern cavalry leader, and "Stonewall"
Jackson. The victim in each case was General Pope. Before relating these
incidents, however, we must take a general view of the field. General
Pope's headquarters at this moment were at Culpeper, with a large part of
his army, but he had left much of his personal baggage and many of his
private papers at Catlett's, a station on the Orange and Alexandria
Railroad between Culpeper and Manassas Junction, while his vast store of
army supplies was at the latter place.

Pope's great source of uncertainty lay in the fact that he did not know
whether Lee would move against him or would follow McClellan in the
latter's retreat from the Peninsula; nor did he know when the
reënforcements promised from McClellan's army would reach him. Meanwhile
Lee had decided to let McClellan depart in peace and to advance against
Pope, with the whole Confederate army. To this end Longstreet was ordered
to the scene and with his corps he reached Gordonsville on August 13th.

A few days later the two Confederate generals, Lee and Longstreet,
ascended to the top of Clark's Mountain, from which, through powerful
field-glasses, they obtained a good view of Culpeper, about twelve miles
away. They saw that Pope's position was weak and determined to attack him
without delay. Lee ordered his army to cross the Rapidan. He also sent a
courier to gallop across the country with an important dispatch to General
Stuart, disclosing his plans. It was now that General Pope met fortune; he
captured the courier and learned of Lee's plans. Pope knew that he was not
in position to meet Lee's army at Culpeper, and he withdrew from that
place and took up a strong position behind the Rappahannock. Lee had
strained every nerve to get at his antagonist before the latter left
Culpeper and before he could be reënforced by McClellan's army. But sudden
rains changed the Rappahannock from a placid stream into a rushing
torrent. The Confederates were delayed and meantime the reënforcements
from the Peninsula began to reach Pope's army. General Reno with a part of
Burnside's corps was on the ground by August 14th. One week later came
Generals Kearny and Reynolds--both splendid leaders, both destined to give
their lives for their country within a year--to join the Army of Virginia
with some thousands of additional fighters from the Army of the Potomac.

Lee was completely thwarted in his purpose of attacking Pope before his
reënforcements arrived. But he was not idle. He sent the dauntless cavalry
leader, J. E. B. Stuart, to make a raid around the Union army. Stuart did
this effectively, and this was the first of the two notable events of
these weeks of sparring. Crossing the Rappahannock at Waterloo Bridge with
fifteen hundred mounted men as bold and dauntless as himself, Stuart
dashed up the country, riding all day and all night. After the coming of
night on the evening of the 22d, in the midst of a torrential rainstorm,
while the darkness was so intense that every man was guided by the tread
of his brother horsemen, Stuart pounced upon the Federals near Catlett's
Station, overpowered the astonished guard, captured nearly two hundred
prisoners, scattering the remainder of the troops stationed there far and
wide in the darkness, and seized Pope's despatch-book with his plans and
private papers. Stuart took also several hundred fine horses and burned a
large number of wagons laden with supplies. Among his trophies was a fine
uniform cloak and hat which were the personal property of General Pope.
These were exchanged on the following day for General Stuart's plumed hat
which a few days before had been left behind by that officer when
surprised by Federal troops.

Stuart's bold raid proved a serious misfortune for the Union army. But Lee
had far greater things in store. His next move was to send Jackson to
Pope's rear with a large part of the Confederate army. Stealthily Jackson
led his army westward, shielded by the woods, the thickets, and the low
hills of the Blue Ridge. It was a quiet rural community through which he
passed. The great majority of the simple country folk had never seen an
army, though it is true that for many days the far-away boom of cannon had
reached their ears from the valley of the Rapidan. Now here was a real
army at their very doors. Nor was it a hostile army, for their sympathies
were Southern. With baskets and armfuls of bread and pies and cakes they
cheered as best they could the tattered and hungry men on the march.

General Lee in the meantime had kept Longstreet in front of Pope's army on
the Rappahannock to make daily demonstrations and feints and thus to
divert Pope's attention from Jackson's movements and lead him to believe
that he was to be attacked in front. The trick was eminently successful.
"Stonewall" Jackson suddenly, on August 26th, emerged from the Bull Run
Mountains by way of the Thoroughfare Gap and marshaled his clans on the
plains of Manassas, but a few miles from the site of the famous battle of
the year before.

Pope had taken alarm. He was astonished to find Jackson in his rear, and
he had to decide instantly between two courses to abandon his
communications with Fredericksburg on the one hand, or with Alexandria and
Washington on the other. He decided to keep in touch with Washington at
all hazards. Breaking his camp on the Rappahannock, he hastened with all
speed to lead his forces toward Manassas Junction, where he had stored
vast quantities of provisions and munitions of war. But he was too late to
save them. Jackson had been joined by Stuart and his cavalry. On the
evening of the 26th they were still some miles from Manassas and Trimble
was sent ahead to make sure the capture before Pope's army could arrive.
Through the darkness rode these same hardy men who had a few nights before
made their bold raid on Catlett's Station. Before midnight they reached
Manassas. They met little opposition. The guard was overpowered. The
spoils of this capture were great, including three hundred prisoners, one
hundred and seventy-five horses, ten locomotives, seven long trains of
provisions, and vast stores and munitions of war.

Next morning the weary and hungry foot soldiers of Jackson's army came
upon the scene and whatever else they did they feasted as only hungry men
can. An eye-witness wrote, "To see a starving man eating lobster-salad
and drinking Rhine wine, barefooted and in tatters, was curious; the
whole thing was incredible."

The amazement at the North when the news of the capture of Manassas became
known cannot be described. But the newspapers belittled it, declaring that
it was merely a bold raid and that for any large force to get between
Pope's army and Washington before Pope became aware of the attempt was
simply impossible.

Jackson had done an astonishing thing. But his position was precarious,
nevertheless. Pope was moving toward him with a far larger army, recently
augmented by Heintzelman's corps from the Army of the Potomac, while Fitz
John Porter with an additional force was not far off. It is true that
Longstreet was hastening to the aid of Jackson, but he had to come by the
same route which had brought Jackson--through Thoroughfare Gap--and Pope
thought he saw a great opportunity. If he could only detain Longstreet at
the gap, why should he not crush Jackson with his superior numbers? To
this end he sent orders to Porter, to McDowell, and to Kearny and others
whose forces were scattered about the country, to concentrate during the
night of the 27th and move upon Jackson. McDowell sent Ricketts with a
small force--too small to prevent Longstreet from passing through
Thoroughfare Gap, and hastened to join the main army against Jackson. But
that able commander was not to be caught in a trap. He moved from Manassas
Junction by three roads toward the old battle-field of Bull Run and by
noon on the 28th the whole corps was once more united between Centreville
and Sudley Spring. Late in the day he encountered King's division of
McDowell's corps near the village of Groveton, and a sharp fight was
opened and kept up till an hour after dark. The Confederates were left in
possession of the field.

The following day, August 29th, was the first of the two days' battle,
leaving out of account the fight of the evening before and the desultory
fighting of the preceding ten days. General Pope was still hopeful of
crushing Jackson before the arrival of Longstreet, and on the morning of
the 29th he ordered a general advance across Bull Run. As the noon hour
approached a wild shout that arose from Jackson's men told too well of the
arrival of Longstreet. Far away on the hills near Gainesville could be
seen the marching columns of Longstreet, who had passed through the gap in
safety and who was now rushing to the support of Jackson. The Confederate
army was at last to be reunited. Jackson was greatly relieved. Pope had
lost his opportunity of fighting the army of his opponent in sections.

The field was almost the same that the opposing forces had occupied a year
and a month before when the first great battle of the war was fought. And
many of them were the same men. Some who had engaged in that first
conflict had gone home and had refused to reënlist; others had found
soldiers' graves since then--but still others on both sides were here
again, no longer the raw recruits that they were before, but, with their
year of hard experience in the field, they were trained soldiers, equal to
any in the world.

The two armies faced each other in a line nearly five miles long. There
was heavy fighting here and there along the line from the early morning
hours, but no general engagement until late in the afternoon. The Union
right pressed hard against the Confederate left and by ten o'clock had
forced it back more than a mile. But the Confederates, presently
reënforced in that quarter, hurled heavy masses of infantry against the
Union right and regained much that it had lost. Late in the afternoon
fresh regiments under Kearny and Hooker charged the Confederate left,
which was swept back and rolled in upon the center. But presently the
Southern General Hood, with his famous Texan brigade, rushed forward in a
wild, irresistible dash, pressed Kearny back, captured one gun, several
flags and a hundred prisoners. Night then closed over the scene and the
two armies rested on their arms until the morning.

The first day's battle is sometimes called the battle of Groveton, but
usually it is considered as the first half of the second battle of Bull
Run. It was a formidable conflict in itself. The Union loss was at least
forty-five hundred men, the Confederate was somewhat larger. Over the gory
field lay multitudes of men, the blue and the gray commingled, who would
dream of battlefields no more. The living men lay down among the dead in
order to snatch a little rest and strength that they might renew the
strife in the morning.

It is a strange fact that Lee and Pope each believed that the other would
withdraw his army during the night, and each was surprised in the morning
to find his opponent still on the ground, ready, waiting, defiant. It was
quite certain that on this day, August 30th, there would be a decisive
action and that one of the two armies would be victor and the other
defeated. The two opposing commanders had called in their outlying
battalions and the armies now faced each other in almost full force, the
Confederates with over fifty thousand men and the Union forces exceeding
their opponents by probably fifteen thousand men. The Confederate left
wing was commanded by Jackson, and the right by Longstreet. The extreme
left of the Union army was under Fitz John Porter, who, owing to a
misunderstanding of orders, had not reached the field the day before. The
center was commanded by Heintzelman and the right by Reno.

In the early hours of the morning the hills echoed with the firing of
artillery, with which the day was opened. Porter made an infantry attack
in the forenoon, but was met by the enemy in vastly superior numbers and
was soon pressed back in great confusion. As the hours passed one fearful
attack followed another, each side in turn pressing forward and again
receding. In the afternoon a large part of the Union army made a
desperate onslaught on the Confederate left under Jackson. Here for some
time the slaughter of men was fearful. It was nearing sunset. Jackson saw
that his lines were wavering. He called for reënforcements which did not
come and it seemed as if the Federals were about to win a signal victory.
But this was not to be. Far away on a little hill at the Confederate right
Longstreet placed four batteries in such a position that he could enfilade
the Federal columns. Quickly he trained his cannon on the Federal lines
that were hammering away at Jackson, and opened fire. Ghastly gaps were
soon cut in the Federal ranks and they fell back. But they re-formed and
came again and still again, each time only to be mercilessly cut down by
Longstreet's artillery. At length Longstreet's whole line rushed forward,
and with the coming of darkness, the whole Union front began to waver.

General Lee, seeing this, ordered the Confederates in all parts of the
field to advance. With wild, triumphant yells they did so. It was now dark
and there was little more fighting; but Lee captured several thousand
prisoners. Pope retreated across Bull Run with the remnant of his army and
by morning was ensconced behind the field-works at Centreville.

There was no mistaking the fact that General Pope had lost the battle and
the campaign. He decided to lead his army back to the entrenchments of
Washington. After spending a day behind the embankments at Centreville,
the retreat was begun. Lee's troops with Jackson in the advance pursued
and struck a portion of the retreating army at Chantilly.

It was late in the afternoon of September 1st. The rain, accompanied by
vivid lightning and terrific crashes of thunder, was falling in torrents
as Stuart's horsemen, sent in advance, were driven back by the Federal
infantry. Jackson now pushed two of A. P. Hill's brigades forward to
ascertain the condition of the Union army. General Reno was protecting
Pope's right flank, and he lost no time in proceeding against Hill. The
latter was promptly checked, and both forces took position for battle.
One side and then the other fell back in turn as lines were re-formed and
urged forward. Night fell and the tempest's fury increased. The ammunition
of both armies was so wet that much of it could not be used. Try as they
would the Confederates were unable to break the Union line and the two
armies finally withdrew. The Confederates suffered a loss of five hundred
men in their unsuccessful attempt to demoralize Pope in his retreat, and
the Federals more than a thousand, including Generals Stevens and Kearny.

General Kearny might have been saved but for his reckless bravery. He was
rounding up the retreat of his men in the darkness of the night when he
chanced to come within the Confederate lines. Called on to surrender, he
lay flat on his horse's back, sank his spurs into its sides, and attempted
to escape. Half a dozen muskets were leveled and fired at the fleeing
general. Within thirty yards he rolled from his horse's back dead.

The consternation in Washington and throughout the North when Pope's
defeated army reached Arlington Heights can better be imagined than
described. General Pope, who bore the brunt of public indignation, begged
to be relieved of the command. The President complied with his wishes and
the disorganized remnants of the Army of Virginia and the Army of the
Potomac were handed to the "Little Napoleon" of Peninsula fame, George B.

The South was overjoyed with its victory--twice it had unfurled its banner
in triumph on the battlefield at Manassas by the remarkable strategy of
its generals and the courage of its warriors on the firing-line. Twice it
had stood literally on the road that led to the capital of the Republic,
only by some strange destiny of war to fail to enter its precincts on the
wave of victory.



Here we see Catlett's Station, on the Orange & Alexandria Railroad, which
Stuart's cavalry seized in a night sortie on August 22, 1862. The damage
done was not severe. Stuart was unable to burn the loaded wagon-trains
surrounding the station and had to content himself with capturing horses,
which he mounted with wounded Federal soldiers; he escaped at four the
next morning, driven off by the approach of a superior force. Pope, at the
time, was in possession of the fords of the Rappahannock, trying to check
the Confederate advance toward the Shenandoah. Stuart's raid, however, so
alarmed General Halleck that he immediately telegraphed Pope from
Washington: "By no means expose your railroad communication with
Alexandria. It is of the utmost importance in sending your supplies and
reinforcements." Pope did not fall back upon his railroad communication,
however, until after Jackson had seized Manassas Junction.

[Illustration: CATLETT'S STATION]

At Manassas Junction, as it appeared in the upper picture on August 26,
1862, is one of the great neglected strategic points in the theater of the
war. Twenty-five miles from Alexandria and thirty miles in a direct line
from Washington, it was almost within long cannon-shot from any point in
both the luckless battles of Bull Run. It was on the railway route
connecting with Richmond, and at the junction of the railway running
across the entrance to the Shenandoah Valley and beyond the Blue Ridge,
through Manassas Gap. The Confederates knew its value, and after the first
battle of Bull Run built the fortifications which we see in the upper
picture, to the left beyond the supply-cars on the railroad. Pope, after
the battle of Cedar Mountain, should have covered it, extending his lines
so as to protect it from Jackson's incursion through Thoroughfare Gap;
instead he held the main force of his army opposing that of Lee.



The havoc wrought by the Confederate attack of August 26th on the Federal
supply depot at Manassas Junction is here graphically preserved. When
Jackson arrived at sunset of that day at Bristoe's Station, on the Orange
& Alexandria Railroad, he knew that his daring movement would be reported
to Pope's forces by the trains that escaped both north and south. To save
themselves, the troops that had already marched twenty-five miles had to
make still further exertions. Trimble volunteered to move on Manassas
Junction; and, under command of Stuart, a small force moved northward
through the woods. At midnight it arrived within half a mile of the
Junction. The Federal force greeted it with artillery fire, but when the
Confederates charged at the sound of the bugle the gunners abandoned the
batteries to the assaulters. Some three hundred of the small Federal
garrison were captured, with the immense stores that filled the warehouses
to overflowing. The next morning Hill's and Taliaferro's divisions arrived
to hold the position. The half-starved troops were now in possession of
all that was needed to make them an effective force. Jackson was now in
position to control the movements of the Federal army under Pope.



Jackson's raid around Pope's army on Bristoe and Manassas stations in
August, 1862, taught the Federal generals that both railroad and base of
supplies must be guarded. Pope's army was out of subsistence and forage,
and the single-track railroad was inadequate.



This scrap-heap at Alexandria was composed of the remains of cars and
engines destroyed by Jackson at Bristoe and Manassas stations. The
Confederate leader marched fifty miles in thirty-six hours through
Thoroughfare Gap, which Pope had neglected to guard.



This is part of the result of General Pope's too rapid advance to head off
Lee's army south of the Rappahannock River. Although overtaking the
advance of the Confederates at Cedar Mountain, Pope had arrived too late
to close the river passes against them. Meanwhile he had left the Orange &
Alexandria Railroad uncovered, and Jackson pushed a large force under
General Ewell forward across the Bull Run Mountains. On the night of
August 26, 1863, Ewell's forces captured Manassas Junction, while four
miles above the Confederate cavalry fell upon an empty railroad train
returning from the transfer of Federal troops. The train was destroyed.
Here we see how well the work was done.



By a move of unparalleled boldness, "Stonewall" Jackson, with twenty
thousand men, captured the immense Union supplies at Manassas Junction,
August 26, 1862. His was a perilous position. Washington lay one day's
march to the north; Warrenton, Pope's headquarters, but twelve miles
distant to the southwest; and along the Rappahannock, between "Stonewall"
Jackson and Lee, stood the tents of another host which outnumbered the
whole Confederate army. "Stonewall" Jackson had seized Bristoe Station in
order to break down the railway bridge over Broad Run, and to proceed at
his leisure with the destruction of the stores. A train returning empty
from Warrenton Junction to Alexandria darted through the station under
heavy fire. The line was promptly torn up. Two trains which followed in
the same direction as the first went crashing down a high embankment. The
report received at Alexandria from the train which escaped ran as follows:
"No. 6 train, engine Secretary, was fired into at Bristoe by a party of
cavalry some five hundred strong. They had piled ties on the track, but
the engine threw them off. Secretary is completely riddled by bullets." It
was a full day before the Federals realized that "Stonewall" Jackson was
really there with a large force. Here, in abundance, was all that had been
absent for some time; besides commissary stores of all sorts, there were
two trains loaded with new clothing, to say nothing of sutler's stores,
replete with "extras" not enumerated in the regulations, and also the camp
of a cavalry regiment which had vacated in favor of Jackson's men. It was
an interesting sight to see the hungry, travel-worn men attacking this
profusion and rewarding themselves for all their fatigues and deprivations
of the preceding few days, and their enjoyment of it and of the day's rest
allowed them. There was a great deal of difficulty for a time in finding
what each man needed most, but this was overcome through a crude barter of
belongings as the day wore on.




Where the troops of General McClellan, waiting near the round-house at
Alexandria, were hurried forward to the scene of action where Pope was
struggling with Jackson and Ewell. Pope had counted upon the assistance of
these reënforcements in making the forward movement by which he expected
to hold Lee back. The old bogey of leaving the National Capital
defenseless set up a vacillation in General Halleck's mind and the troops
were held overlong at Alexandria. Had they been promptly forwarded,
"Stonewall" Jackson's blow at Manassas Junction could not have been
struck. At the news of that disaster the troops were hurriedly despatched
down the railroad toward Manassas. But Pope was already in retreat in
three columns toward that point, McDowell had failed to intercept the
Confederate reënforcements coming through Thoroughfare Gap, and the
situation had become critical. General Taylor, with his brigade of New
Jersey troops, was the first of McClellan's forces to be moved forward to
the aid of Pope. At Union Mills, Colonel Scammon, commanding the First
Brigade, driven back from Manassas Junction, was further pressed by the
Confederates on the morning of August 27th. Later in the day General
Taylor's brigade arrived by the Fairfax road and, crossing the railroad
bridge, met the Confederates drawn up and waiting near Manassas Station. A
severe artillery fire greeted the Federals as they emerged from the woods.
As General Taylor had no artillery, he was obliged either to retire or
charge. He chose the latter. When the Confederate cavalry threatened to
surround his small force, however, Taylor fell back in good order across
the bridge, where two Ohio regiments assisted in holding the Confederates
in check. At this point, General Taylor, who had been wounded in the
retreat, was borne past in a litter. Though suffering much, he appealed to
the officers to prevent another Bull Run. The brigade retired in good
order to Fairfax Court House, where General Taylor died of his wounds a
short time afterward.



Here might have been won a Federal victory that would have precluded
defeat at Second Bull Run. The corps of General Heintzelman, consisting of
the divisions of Hooker and Kearny, was the next detachment of McClellan's
forces to arrive to the aid of Pope. On the 28th of August, Heintzelman
had pushed forward to Centreville, entering it soon after "Stonewall"
Jackson's rear-guard had retired. Instead of pursuing, Heintzelman drew up
his forces east of Cub Run, which we see in the picture. Jackson's forces,
now in a precarious position, fell back toward Thoroughfare Gap to form a
junction with Longstreet's Corps, which Lee had sent forward. The battle
was commenced on the west somewhat feebly by Generals McDowell and Sigel.
By nightfall the Confederate left had been driven back fully a mile.




[Illustration: MAJOR-GENERAL R. S. EWELL]


Sleeping on their arms on the night of August 29th, the Federal veterans
were as confident of having won a victory as were the raw troops in the
beginning of the first battle of Bull Run. But the next day's fighting was
to tell the tale. General Ewell had been wounded in the knee by a minie
ball in the severe fight at Groveton and was unable to lead his command;
but for the impetuosity of this commander was substituted that of
Longstreet, nicknamed "the War-Horse," whose arrival in the midst of the
previous day's engagement had cost the Federals dear. On the morning of
the second day Longstreet's batteries opened the engagement. When the
general advance came, as the sun shone on the parallel lines of glittering
bayonets, it was Longstreet's men bringing their muskets to "the ready"
who first opened fire with a long flash of flame. It was they who pressed
most eagerly forward and, in the face of the Federal batteries, fell upon
the troops of General McDowell at the left and drove them irresistibly
back. Although the right Federal wing, in command of General Heintzelman,
had not given an inch, it was this turning of the left by Longstreet which
put the whole Federal army in retreat, driving them across Bull Run. The
Confederates were left in possession of the field, where lay thousands of
Federal dead and wounded, and Lee was free to advance his victorious
troops into the North unmolested.

29-30, 1862




"C" Company of the Forty-first New York after the Second Battle of Bull
Run, August 30, 1862. When the troops of Generals Milroy and Schurz were
hard pressed by overpowering numbers and exhausted by fatigue, this New
York regiment, being ordered forward, quickly advanced with a cheer along
the Warrenton Turnpike and deployed about a mile west of the field of the
conflict of July 21, 1861. The fighting men replied with answering shouts,
for with the regiment that came up at the double quick galloped a battery
of artillery. The charging Confederates were held and this position was
assailed time and again. It became the center of the sanguinary combat of
the day, and it was here that the "Bull-Dogs" earned their name. Among the
first to respond to Lincoln's call, they enlisted in June, '61, and when
their first service was over they stepped forward to a man, specifying no
term of service but putting their names on the Honor Roll of "For the

[Illustration: BRIG.-GEN. RUFUS KING]

Brigadier-General King, a division commander in this battle, was a soldier
by profession, and a diplomatist and journalist by inheritance--for he was
a graduate of West Point, a son of Charles King, editor of the New York
_American_ in 1827, and a grandson of the elder Rufus, an officer of the
Revolution and Minister to the Court of St. James. He had left the army in
1836 to become Assistant Engineer of the New York & Erie Railroad, a post
he gave up to become editor of the _Daily Advertiser_, and subsequently of
the Milwaukee _Sentinel_. At the outbreak of the war Lincoln had appointed
him Minister to Rome, but he asked permission to delay his departure, and
was made a Brigadier-General of Volunteers. Later he resigned as Minister,
and was assigned to McDowell's corps. At the battle of Manassas, in which
the Forty-first New York earned honor, he proved an able leader. In 1867
he was again appointed as Minister of the United States to Italy.

[Illustration: THE GENERAL-IN-CHIEF IN 1862]

Major-General Henry Wager Halleck; born 1814; West Point 1839; died 1872.
Sherman credits Halleck with having first discovered that Forts Henry and
Donelson, where the Tennessee and the Cumberland Rivers so closely
approach each other, were the keypoints to the defensive line of the
Confederates in the West. Succeeding Fremont in November, 1861, Halleck,
importuned by both Grant and Foote, authorized the joint expedition into
Tennessee, and after its successful outcome he telegraphed to Washington:
"Make Buell, Grant, and Pope major-generals of volunteers and give me
command in the West. I ask this in return for Donelson and Henry." He was
chosen to be General-in-Chief of the Federal Armies at the crisis created
by the failure of McClellan's Peninsula Campaign. Halleck held this
position from July 11, 1862, until Grant, who had succeeded him in the
West, finally superseded him at Washington.

[Illustration: AT ANTIETAM.

_Painted by E. Jahn._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    At Sharpsburg (Antietam) was sprung the keystone of the arch upon
    which the Confederate cause rested.--_James Longstreet,
    Lieutenant-General C. S. A., in "Battles and Leaders of the Civil

A battle remarkable in its actualities but more wonderful in its
possibilities was that of Antietam, with the preceding capture of Harper's
Ferry and the other interesting events that marked the invasion of
Maryland by General Lee. It was one of the bloodiest and the most
picturesque conflicts of the Civil War, and while it was not all that the
North was demanding and not all that many military critics think it might
have been, it enabled President Lincoln to feel that he could with some
assurance issue, as he did, his Emancipation Proclamation.

Lee's army, fifty thousand strong, had crossed the Potomac at Leesburg and
had concentrated around Frederick, the scene of the Barbara Frietchie
legend, only forty miles from Washington. When it became known that Lee,
elated by his victory at Second Bull Run, had taken the daring step of
advancing into Maryland, and now threatened the capital of the Republic,
McClellan, commanding the Army of the Potomac, pushed his forces forward
to encounter the invaders. Harper's Ferry, at the junction of the Potomac
and the Shenandoah rivers, was a valuable defense against invasion through
the Valley of Virginia, but once the Confederates had crossed it, a
veritable trap. General Halleck ordered it held and General Lee sent
"Stonewall" Jackson to take it, by attacking the fortress on the Virginia

Jackson began his march on September 10th with secret instructions from
his commander to encompass and capture the Federal garrison and the vast
store of war material at this place, made famous a few years before by old
John Brown. To conceal his purpose from the inhabitants he inquired along
the route about the roads leading into Pennsylvania. It was from his march
through Frederick that the Barbara Frietchie story took its rise. But
there is every reason to believe that General Jackson never saw the good
old lady, that the story is a myth, and that Mr. Whittier, who has given
us the popular poem under the title of her name, was misinformed. However,
Colonel H. K. Douglas, who was a member of Jackson's staff, relates, in
"Battles and Leaders of the Civil War," an interesting incident where his
commander on entering Middletown was greeted by two young girls waving a
Union flag. The general bowed to the young women, raised his hat, and
remarked to some of his officers, "We evidently have no friends in this
town." Colonel Douglas concludes, "This is about the way he would have
treated Barbara Frietchie."

On the day after Jackson left Frederick he crossed the Potomac by means of
a ford near Williamsport and on the 13th he reached Bolivar Heights.
Harper's Ferry lies in a deep basin formed by Maryland Heights on the
north bank of the Potomac, Loudon Heights on the south bank, and Bolivar
Heights on the west. The Shenandoah River breaks through the pass between
Loudon and Bolivar Heights and the village lies between the two at the
apex formed by the junction of the two rivers.

As Jackson approached the place by way of Bolivar Heights, Walker occupied
Loudon Heights and McLaws invested Maryland Heights. All were unopposed
except McLaws, who encountered Colonel Ford with a force to dispute his
ascent. Ford, however, after some resistance, spiked his guns and retired
to the Ferry, where Colonel Miles had remained with the greater portion of
the Federal troops. Had Miles led his entire force to Maryland Heights he
could no doubt have held his ground until McClellan came to his relief.
But General Halleck had ordered him to hold Harper's Ferry to the last,
and Miles interpreted this order to mean that he must hold the town
itself. He therefore failed to occupy the heights around it in sufficient
strength and thus permitted himself to be caught in a trap.

During the day of the 14th the Confederate artillery was dragged up the
mountain sides, and in the afternoon a heavy fire was opened on the doomed
Federal garrison. On that day McClellan received word from Miles that the
latter could hold out for two days longer and the commanding general sent
word: "Hold out to the last extremity. If it is possible, reoccupy the
Maryland Heights with your entire force. If you can do that I will
certainly be able to relieve you.... Hold out to the last." McClellan was
approaching slowly and felt confident he could relieve the place.

On the morning of the 15th the roar of Confederate artillery again
resounded from hill to hill. From Loudon to Maryland Heights the firing
had begun and a little later the battle-flags of A. P. Hill rose on
Bolivar Heights. Scarcely two hours had the firing continued when Colonel
Miles raised the white flag at Harper's Ferry and its garrison of 12,500,
with vast military stores, passed into the hands of the Confederates.
Colonel Miles was struck by a stray fragment of a Confederate shell which
gave him a mortal wound. The force of General Franklin, preparing to move
to the garrison's relief, on the morning of the 15th noted that firing at
the Ferry had ceased and suspected that the garrison had surrendered, as
it had.

The Confederate Colonel Douglas, whose account of the surrender is both
absorbing and authoritative, thus describes the surrender in "Battles and
Leaders of the Civil War":

"Under instructions from General Jackson, I rode up the pike and into the
enemy's lines to ascertain the purpose of the white flag. Near the top of
the hill I met General White and staff and told him my mission. He replied
that Colonel Miles had been mortally wounded, that he was in command and
desired to have an interview with General Jackson.... I conducted them to
General Jackson, whom I found sitting on his horse where I had left
him.... The contrast in appearances there presented was striking. General
White, riding a handsome black horse, was carefully dressed and had on
untarnished gloves, boots, and sword. His staff were equally comely in
costume. On the other hand, General Jackson was the dingiest,
worst-dressed and worst-mounted general that a warrior who cared for good
looks and style would wish to surrender to.

"General Jackson ... rode up to Bolivar and down into Harper's Ferry. The
curiosity in the Union army to see him was so great that the soldiers
lined the sides of the road.... One man had an echo of response all about
him when he said aloud: 'Boys, he's not much for looks, but if we'd had
him we wouldn't have been caught in this trap.'"

McClellan had failed to reach Harper's Ferry in time to relieve it because
he was detained at South Mountain by a considerable portion of Lee's army
under D. H. Hill and Longstreet. McClellan had come into possession of
Lee's general order, outlining the campaign. Discovering by this order
that Lee had sent Jackson to attack Harper's Ferry he made every effort to
relieve it.

The affair at Harper's Ferry, as that at South Mountain, was but a prelude
to the tremendous battle that was to follow two days later on the banks of
the little stream called Antietam Creek, in Maryland. When it was known
that Lee had led his army across the Potomac the people were filled with
consternation--the people, not only of the immediate vicinity, but of
Harrisburg, of Baltimore, of Philadelphia. Their fear was intensified by
the memory of the Second Bull Run of a few weeks earlier, and by the fact
that at this very time General Bragg was marching northward across
Kentucky with a great army, menacing Louisville and Cincinnati.

As one year before, the hopes of the North had centered in George B.
McClellan, so it was now with the people of the East. They were ready to
forget his failure to capture Richmond in the early summer and to contrast
his partial successes on the Peninsula with the drastic defeat of his
successor at the Second Bull Run.

When McClellan, therefore, passed through Maryland to the scene of the
coming battle, many of the people received him with joy and enthusiasm. At
Frederick City, he tells us in his "Own Story," he was "nearly overwhelmed
and pulled to pieces," and the people invited him into their houses and
gave him every demonstration of confidence.

The first encounter, a double one, took place on September 14th, at two
passes of South Mountain, a continuation of the Blue Ridge, north of the
Potomac. General Franklin, who had been sent to relieve Harper's Ferry,
met a Confederate force at Crampton's Gap and defeated it in a sharp
battle of three hours' duration. Meanwhile, the First and Ninth Army
Corps, under Burnside, encountered a stronger force at Turner's Gap seven
miles farther up. The battle here continued many hours, till late in the
night, and the Union troops were victorious. General Reno was killed.
Lee's loss was nearly twenty-seven hundred, of whom eight hundred were
prisoners. The Federals lost twenty-one hundred men and they failed to
save Harper's Ferry.

Lee now placed Longstreet and D. H. Hill in a strong position near
Keedysville, but learning that McClellan was advancing rapidly, the
Confederate leader decided to retire to Sharpsburg, where he could be more
easily joined by Jackson. September 16th was a day of intense anxiety and
unrest in the valley of the Antietam. The people who had lived in the
farmhouses that dotted the golden autumn landscape in this hitherto quiet
community had now abandoned their homes and given place to the armed
forces. It was a day of marshaling and maneuvering of the gathering
thousands, preparatory to the mighty conflict that was clearly seen to be
inevitable. Lee had taken a strong position on the west bank of Antietam
Creek a few miles from where it flows into the Potomac. He made a display
of force, exposing his men to the fire of the Federal artillery, his
object being to await the coming of Jackson's command from Harper's Ferry.
It is true that Jackson himself had arrived, but his men were weary with
marching and, moreover, a large portion of his troops under A. P. Hill and
McLaws had not yet reached the field.

McClellan spent the day arranging his corps and giving directions for
planting batteries. With a few companions he rode along the whole front,
frequently drawing the fire of the Confederate batteries and thus
revealing their location. The right wing of his army, the corps of
Generals Hooker, Mansfield, and Sumner, lay to the north, near the village
of Keedysville. General Porter with two divisions of the Fifth Corps
occupied the center and Burnside was on the left of the Union lines. Back
of McClellan's lines was a ridge on which was a signal station commanding
a view of the entire field. Late on the afternoon of the 16th, Hooker
crossing the Antietam, advanced against Hood's division on the Confederate
left. For several hours there was heavy skirmishing, which closed with the
coming of darkness.

The two great armies now lay facing each other in a grand double line
three miles in length. At one point (the Union right and the Confederate
left) they were so near together that the pickets could hear each other's
tread. It required no prophet to foretell what would happen on the morrow.

Beautiful and clear the morning broke over the Maryland hills on the
fateful 17th of September, 1862. The sunlight had not yet crowned the
hilltops when artillery fire announced the opening of the battle. Hooker's
infantry soon entered into the action and encountered the Confederates in
an open field, from which the latter were presently pressed back across
the Hagerstown pike to a line of woods where they made a determined stand.
Hooker then called on General Mansfield to come to his aid, and the latter
quickly did so, for he had led his corps across the Antietam after dark
the night before. Mansfield, however, a gallant and honored veteran, fell
mortally wounded while deploying his troops, and General Alpheus S.
Williams, at the head of his first division, succeeded to the command.

There was a wood west of the Sharpsburg and Hagerstown turnpike which,
with its outcropping ledges of rock, formed an excellent retreat for the
Confederates and from this they pushed their columns into the open fields,
chiefly of corn, to meet the Union attacks. For about two hours the battle
raged at this point, the lines swaying to and fro, with fearful slaughter
on both sides. At length, General Greene, who commanded a division of the
fallen Mansfield's corps, gained possession of part of the coveted forest,
near a little white church, known as the Dunker's Chapel. This was on high
ground and was the key to the Confederate left wing. But Greene's troops
were exposed to a galling fire from D. H. Hill's division and he called
for reënforcements.

General Sumner then sent Sedgwick's division across the stream and
accompanied the troops to the aid of their hard-pressed comrades. And the
experience of this body of the gallant Second Corps during the next hour
was probably the most thrilling episode of the whole day's battle.
Sedgwick's troops advanced straight toward the conflict. They found Hooker
wounded and his and Williams' troops quite exhausted. A sharp artillery
fire was turned on Sedgwick before he reached the woods west of the
Hagerstown pike, but once in the shelter of the thick trees he passed in
safety to the western edge. Here the division found itself in an ambush.
Heavy Confederate reënforcements--ten brigades, in fact--Walker's men, and
McLaws', having arrived from Harper's Ferry--were hastening up, and they
not only blocked the front, but worked around to the rear of Sedgwick's
isolated brigades. Sedgwick was wounded in the awful slaughter that
followed, but he and Sumner finally extricated their men with a loss of
two thousand, over three hundred left dead on the ghastly field. Franklin
now sent forward some fresh troops and after obstinately fighting, the
Federals finally held a cornfield and most of the coveted wood over which
the conflict had raged till the ground was saturated with blood.

Before the close of this bloody conflict on the Union right another,
almost if not quite as deadly, was in progress near the center. General
French, soon joined by General Richardson, both of Sumner's corps, crossed
the stream and made a desperate assault against the Southerners of D. H.
Hill's division, stationed to the south of where the battle had previously
raged--French on a line of heights strongly held by the Confederates,
Richardson in the direction of a sunken road, since known as "Bloody
Lane." The fighting here was of a most desperate character and continued
nearly four hours. French captured a few flags, several hundred prisoners,
and gained some ground, but he failed to carry the heights. Richardson was
mortally wounded while leading a charge and was succeeded by General
Hancock; but his men finally captured Bloody Lane with the three hundred
living men who had remained to defend it. The final Federal charge at this
point was made by Colonel Barlow, who displayed the utmost bravery and
self-possession in the thickest of the fight, where he won a
brigadier-generalship. He was wounded, and later carried off the field.
The Confederates had fought desperately to hold their position in Bloody
Lane, and when it was captured it was filled with dead bodies. It was now
about one o'clock and the infantry firing ceased for the day on the Union
right, and center.

Let us now look on the other part of the field. Burnside held the Federal
left wing against Lee's right, and he remained inactive for some hours
after the battle had begun at the other end of the line. In front of
Burnside was a triple-arched stone bridge across the Antietam, since known
as "Burnside's Bridge." Opposite this bridge, on the slope which extends
to a high ridge, were Confederate breastworks and rifle-pits, which
commanded the bridge with a direct or enfilading fire. While the Federal
right was fighting on the morning of the 17th, McClellan sent an order to
Burnside to advance on the bridge, to take possession of it and cross the
stream by means of it. It must have been about ten o'clock when Burnside
received the order as McClellan was more than two miles away.

Burnside's chief officer at this moment was General Jacob D. Cox
(afterward Governor of Ohio), who had succeeded General Reno, killed at
South Mountain. On Cox fell the task of capturing the stone bridge. The
defense of the bridge was in the hands of General Robert Toombs, a former
United States senator and a member of Jefferson Davis' Cabinet. Perhaps
the most notable single event in the life of General Toombs was his
holding of the Burnside Bridge at Antietam for three hours against the
assaults of the Federal troops. The Confederates had been weakened at this
point by the sending of Walker to the support of Jackson, where, as we
have noticed, he took part in the deadly assault upon Sedgwick's division.
Toombs, therefore, with his one brigade had a heavy task before him in
defending the bridge with his small force, notwithstanding his advantage
of position.

McClellan sent several urgent orders to advance at all hazards. Burnside
forwarded these to Cox, and in the fear that the latter would be unable to
carry the bridge by a direct front attack, he sent Rodman with a division
to cross the creek by a ford some distance below. This was accomplished
after much difficulty. Meanwhile, in rapid succession, one assault after
another was made upon the bridge and, about one o'clock, it was carried,
at the cost of five hundred men. The Confederates fell back. A lull in the
fighting along the whole line of battle now ensued.

Burnside, however, received another order from McClellan to push on up the
heights and to the village of Sharpsburg. The great importance of this
move, if successful, was that it would cut Lee out from his line of
retreat by way of Shepherdstown.

After replenishing the ammunition and adding some fresh troops, Cox
advanced at three o'clock with the utmost gallantry toward Sharpsburg. The
Confederates disputed the ground with great bravery. But Cox swept all
before him and was at the edge of the village when he was suddenly
confronted by lines in blue uniforms who instantly opened fire. The
Federals were astonished to see the blue-clad battalions before them. They
must be Union soldiers; but how did they get there? The matter was soon
explained. They were A. P. Hill's division of Lee's army which had just
arrived from Harper's Ferry, and they had dressed themselves in the
uniforms that they had taken from the Federal stores.

Hill had come just in time to save Lee's headquarters from capture. He
checked Cox's advance, threw a portion of the troops into great confusion,
and steadily pressed them back toward the Antietam. In this, the end of
the battle, General Rodman fell mortally wounded. Cox retired in good
order and Sharpsburg remained in the hands of the Confederates.

Thus, with the approach of nightfall, closed the memorable battle of
Antietam. For fourteen long hours more than one hundred thousand men, with
five hundred pieces of artillery, had engaged in titanic combat. As the
pall of battle smoke rose and cleared away, the scene presented was one to
make the stoutest heart shudder. There lay upon the ground, scattered for
three miles over the valleys and the hills or in the improvised hospitals,
more than twenty thousand men. Horace Greeley was probably right in
pronouncing this the bloodiest day in American history.

Although tactically it was a drawn battle, Antietam was decisively in
favor of the North inasmuch as it ended the first Confederate attempt at a
Northern invasion. General Lee realized that his ulterior plans had been
thwarted by this engagement and after a consultation with his corps
commanders he determined to withdraw from Maryland. On the night of the
18th the retreat began and early the next morning the Confederate army had
all safely recrossed the Potomac.

The great mistake of the Maryland campaign from the standpoint of the
Confederate forces, thought General Longstreet, was the division of Lee's
army, and he believed that if Lee had kept his forces together he would
not have been forced to abandon the campaign. At Antietam, he had less
than forty thousand men, who were in poor condition for battle while
McClellan had about eighty-seven thousand, most of whom were fresh and
strong, though not more than sixty thousand were in action.

The moral effect of the battle of Antietam was incalculably great. It
aroused the confidence of the Northern people. It emboldened President
Lincoln to issue five days after its close the proclamation freeing the
slaves in the seceded states. He had written the proclamation long before,
but it had lain inactive in his desk at Washington. All through the
struggles of the summer of 1862 he had looked forward to the time when he
could announce his decision to the people. But he could not do it then.
With the doubtful success of Federal arms, to make such a bold step would
have been a mockery and would have defeated the very end he sought.

The South had now struck its first desperate blow at the gateways to the
North. By daring, almost unparalleled in warfare, it had swung its
courageous army into a strategical position where with the stroke of
fortune it might have hammered down the defenses of the National capital
on the south and then sweep on a march of invasion into the North. The
Northern soldiers had parried the blow. They had saved themselves from
disaster and had held back the tide of the Confederacy as it beat against
the Mason and Dixon line, forcing it back into the State of Virginia where
the two mighty fighting bodies were soon to meet again in a desperate
struggle for the right-of-way at Fredericksburg.

[Illustration: JEFFERSON DAVIS



Thus appeared Jefferson Davis, who on the eve of Antietam was facing one
of the gravest crises of his career. Eighteen months previously, on
February 9, 1861, he had been unanimously elected president of the
Confederate States of America. He was then opposed to war. He maintained
that the secession of the Southern states should be regarded as a purely
peaceful move. But events had swiftly drawn him and his government into
the most stupendous civil conflict of modern times. Now, in September,
1862, he was awaiting the decision of fate. The Southern forces had
advanced northward triumphantly. Elated by success, they were at this
moment invading the territory of the enemy under the leadership of Lee,
whose victories had everywhere inspired not only confidence but enthusiasm
and devotion. Should he overthrow the Northern armies, the Confederacy
would be recognized abroad and its independence probably established at
home. Should he be defeated, no one could foretell the result. Antietam
was lost. From this time the fortunes of the Confederacy waned.

[Illustration: LEE LOCKS THE GATES


Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17, 1862. There were long minutes on that
sunny day in the early fall of 1862 when Robert E. Lee, at his
headquarters west of Sharpsburg, must have been in almost entire ignorance
of how the battle went. Outnumbered he knew his troops were; outfought he
knew they never would be. Longstreet, Hood, D. H. Hill, Evans, and D. R.
Jones had turned back more than one charge in the morning; but, as the day
wore on, Lee perceived that the center must be held. Sharpsburg was the
key. He had deceived McClellan as to his numerical strength and he must
continue to do so. Lee had practically no reserves at all. At one time
General Longstreet reported from the center to General Chilton, Lee's
Chief of Staff, that Cooke's North Carolina regiment--still keeping its
colors at the front--had not a cartridge left. None but veteran troops
could hold a line like this, supported by only two guns of Miller's
battery of the Washington Artillery. Of this crisis in the battle General
Longstreet wrote afterward: "We were already badly whipped and were
holding our ground by sheer force of desperation." Actually in line that
day on the Confederate side were only 37,000 men, and opposed to them were
numbers that could be footed up to 50,000 more. At what time in the day
General Lee must have perceived that the invasion of Maryland must come to
an end cannot be told. He had lost 20,000 of his tired, footsore army by
straggling on the march, according to the report of Longstreet, who adds:
"Nearly one-fourth of the troops who went into the battle were killed or
wounded." At dark Lee's rearward movement had begun.



Here sits Colonel T. G. Morehead, who commanded the 106th Pennsylvania, of
the Second Corps. At 7.20 A.M. the order came to advance, and with a cheer
the Second Corps--men who for over two years had never lost a gun nor
struck a color--pressed forward. But again they were halted. It was almost
an hour later when Sedgwick's division, with Sumner at the head, crossed
the Antietam. Arriving nearly opposite the Dunker church, it swept out
over the cornfields. On it went, by Greene's right, through the West
Woods; here it met the awful counter-stroke of Early's reënforced division
and, stubbornly resisting, was hurled back with frightful loss.

[Illustration: COLONEL T. G. MOREHEAD


Early in the morning of September 17, 1862, Knap's battery (shown below)
got into the thick of the action of Antietam. General Mansfield had posted
it opposite the north end of the West Woods, close to the Confederate
line. The guns opened fire at seven o'clock. Practically unsupported, the
battery was twice charged upon during the morning; but quickly
substituting canister for shot and shell, the men held their ground and
stemmed the Confederate advance. Near this spot General Mansfield was
mortally wounded while deploying his troops. About noon a section of
Knap's battery was detached to the assistance of General Greene, in the
East Woods.



[Illustration: THE FIRST TO FALL


This photograph was taken back of the rail fence on the Hagerstown pike,
where "Stonewall" Jackson's men attempted to rally in the face of Hooker's
ferocious charge that opened the bloodiest day of the Civil War--September
17, 1862. Hooker, advancing to seize high ground nearly three-quarters of
a mile distant, had not gone far before the glint of the rising sun
disclosed the bayonet-points of a large Confederate force standing in a
cornfield in his immediate front. This was a part of Jackson's Corps which
had arrived during the morning of the 16th from the capture of Harper's
Ferry and had been posted in this position to surprise Hooker in his
advance. The outcome was a terrible surprise to the Confederates. All of
Hooker's batteries hurried into action and opened with canister on the
cornfield. The Confederates stood bravely up against this fire, and as
Hooker's men advanced they made a determined resistance. Back and still
farther back were Jackson's men driven across the open field, every stalk
of corn in which was cut down by the battle as closely as a knife could
have done it. On the ground the slain lay in rows precisely as they had
stood in ranks. From the cornfield into a small patch of woods (the West
Woods) the Confederates were driven, leaving the sad result of the
surprise behind them. As the edge of the woods was approached by Hooker's
men the resistance became stronger and more stubborn. Nearly all the units
of two of Jackson's divisions were now in action, and cavalry and
artillery were aiding them. "The two lines," says General Palfrey, "almost
tore each other to pieces." General Starke and Colonel Douglas on the
Confederate side were killed. More than half of Lawton's and Hays'
brigades were either killed or wounded. On the Federal side General
Ricketts lost a third of his division. The energy of both forces was
entirely spent and reinforcements were necessary before the battle could
be continued. Many of Jackson's men wore trousers and caps of Federal
blue, as did most of the troops which had been engaged with Jackson in the
affair at Harper's Ferry. A. P. Hill's men, arriving from Harper's Ferry
that same afternoon, were dressed in new Federal uniforms--a part of their
booty--and at first were mistaken for Federals by the friends who were
anxiously awaiting them.



The field beyond the leveled fence is covered with both Federal and
Confederate dead. Over this open space swept Sedgwick's division of
Sumner's Second Corps, after passing through the East and entering the
West Woods. This is near where the Confederate General Ewell's division,
reënforced by McLaws and Walker, fell upon Sedgwick's left flank and rear.
Nearly two thousand Federal soldiers were struck down, the division losing
during the day more than forty per cent. of its entire number. One
regiment lost sixty per cent.--the highest regimental loss sustained.
Later the right of the Confederate line crossed the turnpike at the Dunker
church (about half a mile to the left of the picture) and made two
assaults upon Greene, but they were repulsed with great slaughter. General
D. R. Jones, of Jackson's division, had been wounded. The brave Starke who
succeeded him was killed; and Lawton, who followed Starke, had fallen


A flaming mansion was the guidon for the extreme left of Greene's division
when (early in the morning) he had moved forward along the ridge leading
to the East Woods. This dwelling belonged to a planter by the name of
Mumma. It stood in the very center of the Federal advance, and also at the
extreme left of D. H. Hill's line. The house had been fired by the
Confederates, who feared that its thick walls might become a vantage-point
for the Federal infantry. It burned throughout the battle, the flames
subsiding only in the afternoon. Before it, just across the road, a
battery of the First Rhode Island Light Artillery had placed its guns.
Twice were they charged, but each time they were repulsed. From Mumma's
house it was less than half a mile across the open field to the Dunker
church. The fence-rails in the upper picture were those of the field
enclosing Mumma's land, and the heroic dead pictured lying there were in
full sight from the burning mansion.



Here, at "Bloody Lane" in the sunken road, was delivered the most telling
blow of which the Federals could boast in the day's fighting at Antietam,
September 17, 1862. In the lower picture we see the officers whose work
first began to turn the tide of battle into a decisive advantage which the
Army of the Potomac had every reason to expect would be gained by its
superior numbers. On the Federal right Jackson, with a bare four thousand
men, had taken the fight out of Hooker's eighteen thousand in the morning,
giving ground at last to Sumner's fresh troops. On the Federal left,
Burnside (at the lower bridge) failed to advance against Longstreet's
Corps, two-thirds of which had been detached for service elsewhere. It was
at the center that the forces of French and Richardson, skilfully fought
by their leaders, broke through the Confederate lines and, sweeping beyond
the sunken road, seized the very citadel of the center. Meagher's Irish
Brigade had fought its way to a crest from which a plunging fire could be
poured upon the Confederates in the sunken road. Meagher's ammunition was
exhausted, and Caldwell threw his force into the position and continued
the terrible combat. When the Confederates executed their flanking
movement to the left, Colonel D. R. Cross, of the Fifth New Hampshire,
seized a position which exposed Hill's men to an enfilading fire. (In the
picture General Caldwell is seen standing to the left of the tree, and
Colonel Cross leans on his sword at the extreme right. Between them stands
Lieut.-Colonel George W. Scott, of the Sixty-first New York Infantry,
while at the left before the tent stands Captain George W. Bulloch, A. C.
S. General Caldwell's hand rests on the shoulder of Captain George H.
Caldwell; to his left is seated Lieutenant C. A. Alvord.)


[Illustration: SHERRICK'S HOUSE


In three distinct localities the battle waxed fierce from dawn to dusk on
that terrible day at Antietam, September 17, 1862. First at the Federal
right around the Dunker church; then at the sunken road, where the centers
of both armies spent themselves in sanguinary struggle; lastly, late in
the day, the struggle was renewed and ceased on the Sharpsburg road. When
Burnside finally got his troops in motion, Sturgis' division of the Ninth
Corps was first to cross the creek; his men advanced through an open
ravine under a withering fire till they gained the opposite crest and held
it until reënforced by Wilcox. To their right ran the Sharpsburg road, and
an advance was begun in the direction of the Sherrick house.

[Illustration: GENERAL A. P. HILL, C. S. A.]

The fighting along the Sharpsburg road might have resulted in a
Confederate disaster had it not been for the timely arrival of the troops
of General A. P. Hill. His six brigades of Confederate veterans had been
the last to leave Harper's Ferry, remaining behind Jackson's main body in
order to attend to the details of the surrender. Just as the Federal Ninth
Corps was in the height of its advance, a cloud of dust on Harper's Ferry
road cheered the Confederates to redoubled effort. Out of the dust the
brigades of Hill debouched upon the field. Their fighting blood seemed to
have but mounted more strongly during their march of eighteen miles.
Without waiting for orders, Hill threw his men into the fight and the
progress of the Ninth Corps was stopped. Lee had counted on the arrival of
Hill in time to prevent any successful attempt upon the Confederate right
held by Longstreet's Corps, two-thirds of which had been detached in the
thick of the fighting of the morning, when Lee's left and center suffered
so severely. Burnside's delay at the bridge could not have been more
fortunate for Lee if he had fixed its duration himself. Had the
Confederate left been attacked at the time appointed, the outcome of
Antietam could scarcely have been other than a decisive victory for the
Federals. Even at the time when Burnside's tardy advance began, it must
have prevailed against the weakened and wearied Confederates had not the
fresh troops of A. P. Hill averted the disaster.

[Illustration: AFTER THE ADVANCE]

In the advance along the Sharpsburg road near the Sherrick house the 79th
New York "Highlanders" deployed as skirmishers. From orchards and
cornfields and from behind fences and haystacks the Confederate
sharpshooters opened upon them, but they swept on, driving in a part of
Jones' division and capturing a battery just before A. P. Hill's troops
arrived. With these reënforcements the Confederates drove back the brave
Highlanders from the suburbs of Sharpsburg, which they had reached.
Stubborn Scotch blood would permit only a reluctant retreat. Sharp
fighting occurred around the Sherrick house with results seen in the lower
picture. Night closed the battle, both sides exhausted.



In the background rises the dome of the Capitol which this regiment
remained to defend until it was ordered to Petersburg, in 1864. It appears
in parade formation. The battery commander leads it, mounted. The battery
consists of six pieces, divided into three platoons of two guns each. In
front of each platoon is the platoon commander, mounted. Each piece, with
its limber and caisson, forms a section; the chief of section is mounted,
to the right and a little to the rear of each piece. The cannoneers are
mounted on the limbers and caissons in the rear. To the left waves the
notched guidon used by both the cavalry and light artillery.



This photograph shows the flat nature of the open country about
Washington. There were no natural fortifications around the city.
Artificial works were necessary throughout. Fort Whipple lay to the south
of Fort Corcoran, one of the three earliest forts constructed. It was
built later, during one of the recurrent panics at the rumor that the
Confederates were about to descend upon Washington. This battery of six
guns, the one on the right hand, pointing directly out of the picture,
looks quite formidable. One can imagine the burst of fire from the
underbrush which surrounds it, should it open upon the foe. At present it
is simply drilling.



"He's not a regular but he's 'smart.'" This tribute to the soldierly
bearing of the trooper above was bestowed, forty-nine years after the
taking of the picture, by an officer of the U. S. cavalry, himself a Civil
War veteran. The recipient of such high praise is seen as he "stood to
horse" a month after the battle of Antietam. The war was only in its
second year, but his drill is quite according to army regulations--hand to
bridle, six inches from the bit. His steady glance as he peers from
beneath his hat into the sunlight tells its own story. Days and nights in
the saddle without food or sleep, sometimes riding along the 60-mile
picket-line in front of the Army of the Potomac, sometimes faced by sudden
encounters with the Southern raiders, have all taught him the needed
confidence in himself, his horse, and his equipment.

[Illustration: THE MEDIATOR


President Lincoln's Visit to the Camps at Antietam, October 8, 1862.
Yearning for the speedy termination of the war, Lincoln came to view the
Army of the Potomac, as he had done at Harrison's Landing. Puzzled to
understand how Lee could have circumvented a superior force on the
Peninsula, he was now anxious to learn why a crushing blow had not been
struck. Lincoln (after Gettysburg) expressed the same thought: "Our army
held the war in the hollow of their hand and they would not close it!" On
Lincoln's right stands Allan Pinkerton, the famous detective and organizer
of the Secret Service of the army. At the President's left is General John
A. McClernand, soon to be entrusted by Lincoln with reorganizing military
operations in the West.


    As it is, the battle of Stone's River seems less clearly a Federal
    victory than the battle of Shiloh. The latter decided the fall of
    Corinth; the former did not decide the fall of Chattanooga.
    Offensively it was a drawn battle, as looked at from either side. As a
    defensive battle, however, it was clearly a Union victory.--_John
    Fiske in "The Mississippi Valley in the Civil War."_

The battle of Corinth developed a man--William S. Rosecrans--whose
singular skill in planning the battle, and whose dauntless courage in
riding between the firing-lines at the opportune moment, drew the
country's attention almost as fully as Grant had done at Fort Donelson.
And at this particular moment the West needed, or thought it needed, a
man. The autumn months of 1862 had been spent by Generals Bragg and Buell
in an exciting race across Kentucky, each at the head of a great army.
Buell had saved Louisville from the legions of Bragg, and he had driven
the Confederate Army of the Mississippi from the State; but he had not
prevented his opponent from carrying away a vast amount of plunder, nor
had he won decisive results at the battle of Perryville, which took place
October 8, 1862, four days after the battle of Corinth. Thereupon the
Federal authorities decided to relieve Buell of the Army of the Ohio and
to give it to General Rosecrans.

On October 30, 1862, Rosecrans assumed command at Nashville of this force,
which was now designated as the Army of the Cumberland. Bragg had
concentrated his army at Murfreesboro, in central Tennessee, about thirty
miles southeast of Nashville and a mile east of a little tributary of the
Cumberland River called Stone's River. Here occurred, two months later,
the bloodiest single day's battle in the West, a conflict imminent as
soon as the news came (on December 26th) that the Federals were advancing
from Nashville.

General Bragg did not lose a moment in marshaling his army into well-drawn
battle-lines. His army was in two corps with a cavalry division under
General Wheeler, Forrest and Morgan being on detached service. The left
wing, under General Hardee, and the center, under Polk, were sent across
Stone's River, the right wing, a division under John C. Breckinridge,
remaining on the eastern side of the stream to guard the town. The line
was three miles in length, and on December 30th the Federal host that had
come from Nashville stood opposite, in a parallel line. It was also in
three sections. The left wing, opposite Breckinridge, was commanded by
Thomas L. Crittenden, whose brother was a commander in the Confederacy.
They were sons of the famous United States senator from Kentucky, John J.
Crittenden. The Federal center, opposite Polk, was commanded by George H.
Thomas, and the right wing, opposing the Confederate left, was led by
Alexander McD. McCook, one of the well-known "Fighting McCook" brothers.
The effective Federal force was about forty-three thousand men; the
Confederate army numbered about thirty-eight thousand. That night they
bivouacked within musket range of each other and the camp-fires of each
were clearly seen by the other as they shone through the cedar groves that
interposed. Thus lay the two great armies, ready to spring upon each other
in deadly combat with the coming of the morning.

Rosecrans had permitted McCook to thin out his lines over too much space,
while on that very part of the field Bragg had concentrated his forces for
the heaviest attack. The plans of battle made by the two opposing
commanders were strikingly similar. Rosecrans' plan was to throw his left
wing, under Crittenden, across the river upon the Confederate right under
Breckinridge, to crush it in one impetuous dash, and to swing around
through Murfreesboro to the Franklin road and cut off the Confederate
line of retreat. Bragg, on the other hand, intended to make a similar dash
upon the Union right, pivot upon his center, press back McCook upon that
center, crumpling the Federals and seizing the Nashville turnpike to cut
off Rosecrans' retreat toward Nashville. Neither, of course, knew of the
other's plan, and much would depend on who would strike first.

At the early light of the last day of the year the Confederate left wing
moved upon the Union right in a magnificent battle-line, three-quarters of
a mile in length and two columns deep. At the same time the Confederate
artillery opened with their cannon. McCook was astonished at so fierce and
sudden a charge. The gallant Patrick Cleburne, one of the ablest
commanders in the Southern armies, led his division, which had been
brought from the Confederate right, in the charge. The Federal lines were
ill prepared for this sudden onslaught, and before McCook could arrange
them several batteries were overpowered and eleven of the heavy guns were
in the hands of the Confederates.

Slowly the Union troops fell back, firing as they went; but they had no
power to check the impetuous, overwhelming charge of the onrushing foe.
McCook's two right divisions, under Johnson and Jeff. C. Davis, were
driven back, but his third division, which was commanded by a young
officer who had attracted unusual attention at the battle of
Perryville--Philip H. Sheridan--held its ground. At the first Confederate
advance, Sill's brigade of Sheridan's division drove the troops in front
of it back into their entrenchments, and in the charge the brave Sill lost
his life.

While the battle raged with tremendous fury on the Union right, Rosecrans
was three miles away, throwing his left across the river. Hearing the
terrific roar of battle at the other end of the line, Rosecrans hastened
to begin his attack on Breckinridge hoping to draw a portion of the
Confederate force away from McCook. But as the hours of the forenoon
passed he was dismayed as he noted that the sound of battle was coming
nearer, and he rightly divined that his right wing was receding before the
dashing soldiers of the South. He ordered McCook to dispute every inch of
the ground; but McCook's command was soon torn to pieces and disorganized,
except the division of Sheridan.

The latter stood firm against the overwhelming numbers, a stand that
attracted the attention of the country and brought him military fame. He
checked the onrushing Confederates at the point of the bayonet; he formed
a new line under fire. In his first position Sheridan held his ground for
two hours. The Confederate attack had also fallen heavily on Negley, who
was stationed on Sheridan's left, and on Palmer, both of Thomas' center.
Rousseau commanding the reserves, and Van Cleve of Crittenden's forces
were ordered to the support of the Union center and right. Here, for two
hours longer the battle raged with unabated fury, and the slaughter of
brave men on both sides was appalling. Three times the whole Confederate
left and center were thrown against the Union divisions, but failed to
break the lines. At length when their cartridge boxes were empty
Sheridan's men could do nothing but retire for more ammunition, and they
did this in good order to a rolling plain near the Nashville road. But
Rousseau of Thomas' center was there to check the Confederate advance.

It was now past noon, and still the battle roar resounded unceasingly
through the woods and hills about Murfreesboro. Though both hosts had
struggled and suffered since early morning, they still held to their guns,
pouring withering volleys into each other's ranks. The Federal right and
center had been forced back at right angles to the position they had held
when day dawned; and the Confederate left was swung around at right angles
to its position of the morning. The Federal left rested on Stone's River,
while Bragg's right was on the same stream and close to the line in blue.
Meantime, Rosecrans had massed his artillery on a little hill overlooking
the field of action. He had also re-formed the broken lines of the right
and center and called in twelve thousand fresh troops. Then, after a brief
lull, the battle opened again and the ranks of both sides were torn with
grape and canister and bursting shells.

In answer to Bragg's call for reënforcements came Breckinridge with all
but one brigade of his division, a host of about seven thousand fresh
troops. The new Confederate attack began slowly, but increased its speed
at every step. Suddenly, a thundering volley burst from the line in blue,
and the front ranks of the attacking column disappeared. Again, a volley
tore through the ranks in gray, and the assault was abandoned.

The battle had raged for nearly eleven hours, when night enveloped the
scene, and the firing abated slowly and died away. It had been a bloody
day--this first day's fight at Stone's River--and except at Antietam it
had not thus far been surpassed in the war. The advantage was clearly with
the Confederates. They had pressed back the Federals for two miles, had
routed their right wing and captured many prisoners and twenty-eight heavy
guns. But Rosecrans determined to hold his ground and try again.

The next day was New Year's and but for a stray fusillade, here and there,
both armies remained inactive, except that each quietly prepared to renew
the contest on the morrow. The renewal of the battle on January 2nd was
fully expected on both sides, but there was little fighting till four in
the afternoon. Rosecrans had sent General Van Cleve's division on January
1st across the river to seize an elevation from which he could shell the
town of Murfreesboro. Bragg now sent Breckinridge to dislodge the
division, and he did so with splendid effect. But Breckinridge's men came
into such a position as to be exposed to the raking fire of fifty-two
pieces of Federal artillery on the west side of the river. Returning the
deadly and constant fire as best they could, they stood the storm of shot
and shell for half an hour when they retreated to a place of safety,
leaving seventeen hundred of their number dead or wounded on the field.
That night the two armies again lay within musket shot of each other. The
next day brought no further conflict and during that night General Bragg
moved away to winter quarters at Shelbyville, on the Elk River.

Murfreesboro, or Stone's River, was one of the great battles of the war.
The losses were about thirteen thousand to the Federals and over ten
thousand to the Confederates. Both sides claimed victory--the South
because of Bragg's signal success on the first day; the North because of
Breckinridge's fearful repulse at the final onset and of Bragg's
retreating in the night and refusing to fight again. A portion of the
Confederate army occupied Shelbyville, Tennessee, and the larger part
entrenched at Tullahoma, eighteen miles to the southeast.

Six months after the battle of Stone's River, the Federal army suddenly
awoke from its somnolent condition--a winter and spring spent in raids and
unimportant skirmishes--and became very busy preparing for a long and
hasty march. Rosecrans' plan of campaign was brilliant and proved most
effective. He realized that Tullahoma was the barrier to Chattanooga, and
determined to drive the Confederates from it.

On June 23, 1863, the advance began. The cavalry, under General Stanley,
had received orders to advance upon Shelbyville on the 24th, and during
that night to build immense and numerous camp-fires before the Confederate
stronghold at Shelbyville, to create the impression that Rosecrans' entire
army was massing at that point. But the wily leader of the Federals had
other plans, and when Stanley, supported by General Granger, had built his
fires, the larger force was closing in upon Tullahoma.

The stratagem dawned upon Bragg too late to check Rosecrans' plans.
Stanley and Granger made a brilliant capture of Shelbyville, and Bragg
retired to Tullahoma; but finding here that every disposition had been
made to fall upon his rear, he continued his southward retreat toward



The Twenty-first Michigan Infantry. In the Murfreesboro campaign, the
regiment, detached from its old command, fought in the division of
Brigadier-General "Phil" Sheridan, a leader who became scarcely less
renowned in the West than Sherman and gave a good account of himself and
his men at Stone's River. Most of the faces in the picture are those of
boys, yet severe military service has already given them the unmistakable
carriage of the soldier. The terrible field of Chickamauga lay before
them, but a few months in the future; and after that, rejoining their
beloved "Old Tecumseh," they were to march with him to the sea and witness
some of the closing scenes in the struggle.



This picture of Company C of the Twenty-first Michigan shows impressively
the type of men that the rough campaigning west of the Alleghanies had
molded into veterans. These were Sherman's men, and under the watchful eye
and in the inspiring presence of that general thousands of stalwart lads
from the sparsely settled States were becoming the very bone and sinew of
the Federal fighting force. The men of Sherman, like their leader, were
forging steadily to the front. They had become proficient in the fighting
which knows no fear, in many hard-won combats in the early part of the
war. Greater and more magnificent conflicts awaited those who did not find
a hero's grave.



There was something of extreme interest taking place when this photograph
was taken at Corinth. With arms stacked, the soldiers are gathered about
an improvised stand sheltered with canvas, listening to a speech upon a
burning question of the hour--the employment of colored troops in the
field. A question upon which there were many different and most decided
opinions prevailing in the North, and but one nearly universal opinion
holding south of Mason and Dixon's line. General Thomas, at the moment
this photograph was taken, was addressing the assembled troops on this
subject. Some prominent Southerners, among them General Patrick Cleburne,
favored the enrollment of Negroes in the Confederate army.



General William P. Carlin and Staff. Early in the war Carlin made a name
for himself as colonel of the Thirty-eighth Illinois Infantry, which was
stationed at Pilot Knob, Missouri, and was kept constantly alert by the
raids of Price and Jeff Thompson. Carlin rose rapidly to be the commander
of a brigade, and joined the forces in Tennessee in 1862. He distinguished
himself at Perryville and in the advance to Murfreesboro. At Stone's River
his brigade, almost surrounded, repulsed an overwhelming force of
Confederates. This picture was taken a year after that battle, while the
brigade was in winter quarters at Ringgold, Georgia. The band-stand was
built by the General's old regiment.



In the picture the contraband laborers often pressed into service by
Federals are repairing the "stringer" track near Murfreesboro after the
battle of Stone's River. The long lines of single-track road, often
involving a change from broad-gauge to narrow-gauge, were entirely
inadequate for the movement of troops in that great area. In these
isolated regions the railroads often became the supreme objective of both
sides. When disinclined to offer battle, each struck in wild raids against
the other's line of communication. Sections of track were tipped over
embankments; rails were torn up, heated red-hot in bonfires, and twisted
so that they could never be used again. The wrecking of a railroad might
postpone a maneuver for months, or might terminate a campaign suddenly in
defeat. Each side in retreat burned its bridges and destroyed the railroad
behind it. Again advancing, each had to pause for the weary work of


_Painted by J. W. Gies._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    The Army of the Potomac had fought gallantly; it had not lost a single
    cannon, all its attacks being made by masses of infantry; it had
    experienced neither disorder nor rout. But the defeat was complete,
    and its effects were felt throughout the entire country as keenly as
    in the ranks of the army. The little confidence that Burnside had been
    able to inspire in his soldiers had vanished, and the respect which
    everybody entertained for the noble character of the unfortunate
    general could not supply its place.--_Comte de Paris, in "History of
    the Civil War in America."_

The silent city of military graves at Fredericksburg is a memorial of one
of the bloodiest battles of the Civil War. The battle of Antietam had been
regarded a victory by the Federals and a source of hope to the North,
after a wearisome period of inaction and defeats. General George B.
McClellan, in command of the Army of the Potomac, failed to follow up this
advantage and strike fast and hard while the Southern army was shattered
and weak. President Lincoln's impatience was brought to a climax;
McClellan was relieved and succeeded by General Ambrose E. Burnside, who
was looked upon with favor by the President, and who had twice declined
this proffered honor. It was on November 5, 1862, nearly two months after
Antietam, when this order was issued. The Army of the Potomac was in
splendid form and had made plans for a vigorous campaign. On the 9th
Burnside assumed command, and on the following day McClellan took leave of
his beloved troops.

Burnside at once changed the whole plan of campaign, and decided to move
on Fredericksburg, which lay between the Union and Confederate armies. He
organized his army into three grand divisions, under Generals Sumner,
Hooker, and Franklin, commanding the right, center, and left, and moved
his troops from Warrenton to Falmouth. A delay of some two weeks was due
to the failure of arrival of the pontoons. In a council of war held on the
night of December 10th the officers under Burnside expressed themselves
almost unanimously as opposed to the plan of battle, but Burnside
disregarded their views and determined to carry out his original plans
immediately. After some delay and desultory fighting for two days, the
crossing of the army was effected by the morning of December 13th. By this
time General Robert E. Lee, commanding the Confederates, had his army
concentrated and entrenched on the hills surrounding the town. In their
efforts to place their bridges the Federals were seriously hindered by the
firing of the Confederate sharpshooters--"hornets that were stinging the
Army of the Potomac into a frenzy." The Confederate fire continued until
silenced by a heavy bombardment of the city from the Federal guns, when
the crossing of the army into Fredericksburg was completed without further

The forces of Lee were in battle array about the town. Their line
stretched for five miles along the range of hills which spread in crescent
shape around the lowland where the city lay, surrounding it on all sides
save the east, where the river flowed. The strongest Confederate position
was on the slopes of the lowest hill of the range, Marye's Heights, which
rose in the rear of the town. Along the foot of this hill there was a
stone wall, about four feet in height, bounding the eastern side of the
Telegraph road, which at this point runs north and south, being depressed
a few feet below the surface of the stone wall, thus forming a breastwork
for the Confederate troops. Behind it a strong force was concealed, while
higher up, in several ranks, the main army was massed, stretching along
the line of hills. The right wing, consisting of thirty thousand troops on
an elevation near Hamilton's Crossing of the Fredericksburg and Potomac
Railroad, was commanded by "Stonewall" Jackson. The left, on Marye's
Heights and Marye's Hill, was commanded by the redoubtable Longstreet. The
Southern forces numbered about seventy-eight thousand.

Into the little city below and the adjoining valleys, the Federal troops
had been marching for two days. Franklin's Left Grand Division of forty
thousand was strengthened by two divisions from Hooker's Center Grand
Division, and was ordered to make the first attack on the Confederate
right under Jackson. Sumner's Right Grand Division, also reënforced from
Hooker's forces, was formed for assault against the Confederate's
strongest point at Marye's Hill.

All this magnificent and portentous battle formation had been effected
under cover of a dense fog, and when it lifted on that fateful Saturday
there was revealed a scene of truly military grandeur. Concealed by the
somber curtain of nature the Southern hosts had fixed their batteries and
entrenched themselves most advantageously upon the hills, and the Union
legions, massed in menacing strength below, now lay within easy
cannon-shot of their foe. The Union army totaled one hundred and thirteen
thousand men. After skirmishing and gathering of strength, it was at
length ready for the final spring and the death-grapple.

When the sun's rays broke through the fog during the forenoon of December
13th, Franklin's Grand Division was revealed in full strength in front of
the Confederate right, marching and countermarching in preparation for the
coming conflict. Officers in new, bright uniforms, thousands of bayonets
gleaming in the sunshine, champing steeds, rattling gun-carriages whisking
artillery into proper range of the foe, infantry, cavalry, batteries, with
officers and men, formed a scene of magnificent grandeur which excited the
admiration even of the Confederates. This maneuver has been called the
grandest military scene of the war.

Yet with all this brave show, we have seen that Burnside's subordinate
officers were unanimous in their belief in the rashness of the
undertaking. Enthusiasm was sadly lacking. The English military writer,
Colonel Henderson, has explained why this was so:

    And yet that vast array, so formidable of aspect, lacked that moral
    force without which physical power, even in its most terrible form, is
    but an idle show. Not only were the strength of the Confederate
    position, the want of energy of preliminary movements, the insecurity
    of their own situation, but too apparent to the intelligence of the
    regimental officers and men, but they mistrusted their commander.
    Northern writers have recorded that the Army of the Potomac never went
    down to battle with less alacrity than on this day at Fredericksburg.

The first advance began at 8:30 in the morning, while the fog was still
dense, upon Jackson's right. Reynolds ordered Meade with a division,
supported by two other divisions under Doubleday and Gibbon, to attack
Jackson at his weakest point, the extreme right of the Confederate lines,
and endeavor to seize one of the opposing heights. The advance was made in
three lines of battle, which were guarded in front and on each flank by
artillery which swept the field in front as the army advanced. The
Confederates were placed to have an enfilading sweep from both flanks
along the entire front line of march. When Reynolds' divisions had
approached within range, Jackson's small arms on the left poured in a
deadly fire, mowing down the brave men in the Union lines in swaths,
leaving broad gaps where men had stood.

This fire was repeated again and again, as the Federals pressed on, only
to be repulsed. Once only was the Confederate line broken, when Meade
carried the crest, capturing flags and prisoners. The ground lost by the
Confederates was soon recovered, and the Federals were forced to retire.
Some of the charges made by the Federals during this engagement were
heroic in the extreme, only equaled by the opposition met from the foe.
In one advance, knapsacks were unslung and bayonets fixed; a brigade
marched across a plowed field, and passed through broken lines of other
brigades, which were retiring to the rear in confusion from the leaden

The fire became incessant and destructive; many fell, killed or wounded;
the front line slackened its pace, and without orders commenced firing. A
halt seemed imminent, and a halt in the face of the terrific fire to which
the men were exposed meant death; but, urged on by regimental commanders
in person, the charge was renewed, when with a shout they leaped the
ditches, charged across the railroad, and upon the foe, killing many with
the bayonet and capturing several hundred prisoners. But this was only a
temporary gain. In every instance the Federals were shattered and driven
back. Men were lying dead in heaps, the wounded and dying were groaning in
agony. Soldiers were fleeing; officers were galloping to and fro urging
their lines forward, and begging their superior officers for assistance
and reënforcement.

A dispatch to Burnside from Franklin, dated 2:45, was as follows: "My left
has been very badly handled; what hope is there of getting reënforcements
across the river?" Another dispatch, dated 3:45, read: "Our troops have
gained no ground in the last half hour."

In their retreat the fire was almost as destructive as during the assault.
Most of the wounded were brought from the field after this engagement, but
the dead were left where they fell. It was during this engagement that
General George D. Bayard was mortally wounded by a shot which had severed
the sword belt of Captain Gibson, leaving him uninjured. The knapsack of a
soldier who was in a stooping posture was struck by a ball, and a deck of
cards was sent flying twenty feet in the air. Those witnessing the
ludicrous scene called to him, "Oh, deal me a hand!" thus indicating the
spirit of levity among soldiers even amid such surroundings. Another
soldier sitting on the ground suddenly leaped high above the heads of his
comrades as a shell struck the spot, scooping a wheelbarrowful of earth,
but the man was untouched.

Entirely independent of the action in which the Left Grand Division under
Franklin was engaged against the right wing of the Confederate line,
Sumner's Right Grand Division was engaged in a terrific assault upon the
works on Marye's Heights, the stronghold of the Confederate forces. Their
position was almost impregnable, consisting of earthworks, wood, and stone
barricades running along the sunken road near the foot of Marye's Hill.
The Federals were not aware of the sunken road, nor of the force of
twenty-five hundred under General Cobb concealed behind the stone wall,
this wall not being new work as a part of the entrenchments, but of
earlier construction. When the advance up the road was made they were
harassed by shot and shell and rifle-balls at every step, but the men came
dashing into line undismayed by the terrific fire which poured down upon

The Irish Brigade, the second of Hancock's division, under General
Meagher, made a wonderful charge. When they returned from the assault but
two hundred and fifty out of twelve hundred men reported under arms from
the field, and all these were needed to care for their wounded comrades.
The One Hundred and Sixteenth Pennsylvania regiment was new on the field
of battle, but did fearless and heroic service. The approach was
completely commanded by the Confederate guns. Repeatedly the advance was
repulsed by well-directed fire from the batteries.

Once again Sumner's gallant men charged across a railroad cut, running
down one side and up the other, and still again attempted to escape in the
same manner, but each time they were forced to retire precipitately by a
murderous fire from the Confederate batteries. Not only was the
Confederate fire disastrous upon the approach and the successive repulses
by the foe, but it also inflicted great damage upon the masses of the
Federal army in front of Marye's Hill. The Confederates' effective and
successful work on Marye's Hill in this battle was not alone due to the
natural strength of their position, but also to the skill and generalship
of the leaders, and to the gallantry, courage, and well-directed aim of
their cannoneers and infantry.

Six times the heroic Union troops dashed against the invulnerable
position, each time to be repulsed with terrific loss. General Couch, who
had command of the Second Corps, viewing the scene of battle from the
steeple of the court-house with General Howard, says: "The whole plain was
covered with men, prostrate and dropping, the live men running here and
there, and in front closing upon each other, and the wounded coming back.
I had never before seen fighting like that, nothing approaching it in
terrible uproar and destruction."

General Howard reports that Couch exclaimed: "Oh, great God! see how our
men, our poor fellows, are falling!" At half-past one Couch signaled
Burnside: "I am losing. Send two rifle batteries."

The point and method of attack made by Sumner was anticipated by the
Confederates, careful preparation having been made to meet it. The fire
from the Confederate batteries harassed the Union lines, and as they
advanced steadily, heroically, without hurrah or battle-cry, the ranks
were cut to pieces by canister and shell and musket-balls. Heavy artillery
fire was poured into the Union ranks from front, right, and left with
frightful results. Quickly filling up the decimated ranks they approached
the stone wall masking the death-trap where General Cobb lay with a strong
force awaiting the approach. Torrents of lead poured into the bodies of
the defenseless men, slaying, crushing, destroying the proud army of a few
hours before. As though in pity, a cloud of smoke momentarily shut out the
wretched scene but brought no balm to the helpless victims of this awful
carnage. The ground was so thickly strewn with dead bodies as seriously to
impede the movements of a renewed attack. These repeated assaults in such
good order caused some apprehension on the part of General Lee, who said
to Longstreet after the third attack, "General, they are massing very
heavily and will break your line, I am afraid." But the great general's
fears proved groundless.

General Cobb was borne from the field mortally wounded, and Kershaw took
his place in the desperate struggle. The storm of shot and shell which met
the assaults was terrific. Men fell almost in battalions; the dead and
wounded lay in heaps. Late in the day the dead bodies, which had become
frozen from the extreme cold, were stood up in front of the soldiers as a
protection against the awful fire to shield the living, and at night were
set up as dummy sentinels.

The steadiness of the Union troops, and the silent, determined heroism of
the rank and file in these repeated, but hopeless, assaults upon the
Confederate works, were marvelous, and amazed even their officers. The
real greatness in a battle is the fearless courage, the brave and heroic
conduct, of the men under withering fire. It was the enlisted men who were
the glory of the army. It was they, the rank and file, who stood in the
front, closed the gaps, and were mowed down in swaths like grass by cannon
and musket-balls.

After the sixth disastrous attempt to carry the works of the Confederate
left it was night; the Federal army was repulsed and had retired; hope was
abandoned, and it was seen that the day was lost to the Union side. Then
the shattered Army of the Potomac sought to gather the stragglers and care
for the wounded. Fredericksburg, the beautiful Virginia town, was a
pitiable scene in contrast to its appearance a few days before. Ancestral
homes were turned into barracks and hospitals. The charming drives and
stately groves, the wonted pleasure grounds of Colonial dames and Southern
cavaliers, were not filled with grand carriages and gay parties, but with
war horses, soldiers, and military accouterments. Aside from desultory
firing by squads and skirmishers at intervals there was no renewal of the

The bloody carnage was over, the plan of Burnside had ended in failure,
and thousands of patriotic and brave men, blindly obedient to their
country's command, were the toll exacted from the Union army. Burnside,
wild with anguish at what he had done, walking the floor of his tent,
exclaimed, "Oh, those men--those men over there," pointing to the
battlefield, "I am thinking of them all the time." In his report of the
battle to Washington, Burnside gave reasons for the issue, and in a manly
way took the responsibility upon himself, and most highly commended his
officers and men. He said, "For the failure in the attack I am
responsible, as the extreme gallantry, courage, and endurance shown by
them [officers and men] were never excelled."

President Lincoln's verdict in regard to this battle is adverse to the
almost unanimous opinion of the historians. In his reply, December 22d, to
General Burnside's report of the battle, he says, "Although you were not
successful, the attempt was not an error, nor the failure other than an
accident." Burnside, at his own request, was relieved of the command of
the Army of the Potomac, however, on January 25, 1863, and was succeeded
by General Hooker. The Union loss in killed, wounded, and missing was
12,653, and the Confederates lost 5,377.

After the battle the wounded lay on the field in their agony exposed to
the freezing cold for forty-eight hours before arrangements were effected
to care for them. Many were burned to death by the long, dead grass
becoming ignited by cannon fire. The scene witnessed by the army of those
screaming, agonizing, dying comrades was dreadful and heart-rending.
Burnside's plan had been to renew the battle, but the overwhelming opinion
of the other officers prevailed. The order was withdrawn and the defeated
Union army slipped away under the cover of darkness on December 15th, and
encamped in safety across the river. The battle of Fredericksburg had
passed into history.



Major-General Ambrose Everett Burnside was a West Point graduate, inventor
of a breech-loading rifle, commander of a brigade in the first battle of
Bull Run, captor of Roanoke Island and Newberne (North Carolina), and
commander of the Federal left at Antietam. He was appointed to the command
of the Army of the Potomac and succeeded General George B. McClellan on
November 8, 1862. He was a brave soldier, but was an impatient leader and
inclined to be somewhat reckless. He pressed rapidly his advance against
Lee and massed his entire army along Stafford Heights, on the east bank of
the Rappahannock, opposite Fredericksburg. According to General W. B.
Franklin (who commanded the left grand division of the army), the notion
that a serious battle was necessary to Federal control of the town "was
not entertained by any one." General Sumner (who led the advance of
Burnside's army) held this opinion but he had not received orders to cross
the river. Crossing was delayed nearly a month and this delay resulted in
the Federal disaster on December 13th. This put an abrupt end to active
operations by Burnside against Lee. This picture was taken at Warrenton,
November 24th, on the eve of the departure of the army for its march to

[Illustration: THE DETAINED GUNS


Fredericksburg, February, 1863. In the foreground, looking from what is
approximately the same position as the opening picture, are three guns of
Tyler's Connecticut battery. It was from all along this ridge that the
town had suffered its bombardment in December of the previous year. Again
the armies were separated by the Rappahannock River. There was a new
commander at the head of the Army of the Potomac--General Hooker. The
plundered and deserted town now held by the Confederates was to be made
the objective of another attack. The heights beyond were once more to be
assaulted; bridges were to be rebuilt. But all to no purpose. This ground
of much contention was deserted some time before Lee advanced to his
invasion of Pennsylvania. Very slowly the inhabitants of Fredericksburg
had returned to their ruined homes. The town was a vast Federal cemetery,
the dead being buried in gardens and backyards, for during its occupancy
almost every dwelling had been turned into a temporary hospital. After the
close of the war these bodies were gathered and a National Cemetery was
established on Willis' Hill, on Marye's Heights, the point successfully
defended by Lee's veterans.

Heavy pontoon-boats, each on its separate wagon, were sometimes as
necessary as food or ammunition. At every important crossing of the many
rivers that had to be passed in the Peninsula Campaign the bridges had
been destroyed. There were few places where these streams were fordable.
Pontoons, therefore, made a most important adjunct to the Army of the




This photograph from the Fredericksburg river-bank recalls a terrible
scene. On those memorable days of December 11 and 12, 1862, from these
very trenches shown in the foreground, the ragged gray riflemen saw on
that hillside across the river the blue of the uniforms of the massed
Federal troops. The lines of tents made great white spaces, but the ground
could hardly be seen for the host of men who were waiting, alas! to die by
thousands on this coveted shore. From these hills, too, burst an incessant
flaming and roaring cannon fire. Siege-guns and field artillery poured
shot and shell into the town of Fredericksburg. Every house became a
target, though deserted except for a few hardy and venturesome riflemen.
There was scarcely a dwelling that escaped. Ruined and battered and
bloody, Fredericksburg three times was a Federal hospital, and its
backyards became little cemeteries.





At Franklin Crossing, on the Rappahannock, occurred an incident that
proves how little things may change the whole trend of the best-laid
plans. The left Union wing under the command of General Franklin, composed
of the First Army Corps under General Reynolds, and the Sixth under
General W. F. Smith, was crossing to engage in the battle of
Fredericksburg. For two days they poured across these yielding planks
between the swaying boats to the farther shore. Now, in the crossing of
bridges, moving bodies of men must break step or even well-built
structures might be threatened. The colonel of one of the regiments in
General Devens' division that led the van ordered his field music to
strike up just as the head of the column swept on to the flimsy planking;
before the regiment was half-way across, unconsciously the men had fallen
into step and the whole fabric was swaying to the cadenced feet. Vibrating
like a great fiddle-string, the bridge would have sunk and parted, but a
keen eye had seen the danger. "Stop that music!" was the order, and a
staff officer spurred his horse through the men, shouting at top voice.
The lone charge was made through the marching column: some jumped into the
pontoons to avoid the hoofs; a few went overboard; but the head of the
column was reached at last, and the music stopped. A greater blunder than
this, however, took place on the plains beyond. Owing to a
misunderstanding of orders, 37,000 troops were never brought into action;
17,000 men on their front bore the brunt of a long day's fighting.



"The Irish Brigade" (consisting of the Twenty-eighth Massachusetts,
Sixty-third, Sixty-ninth and Eighty-eighth New York and the One Hundred
and Sixteenth Pennsylvania) was commanded by General Thomas F. Meagher and
advanced in Hancock's Division to the first assault at Marye's Heights, on
December 13, 1862. In this charge the Irish soldiers moved steadily up the
ridge until within a few yards of a sunken road, from which unexpected
fire mowed them down. Of the 1,315 men which Meagher led into battle, 545
fell in that charge. The officer standing is Colonel Patrick Kelly, of the
Eighty-eighth New York, who was one of the valiant heroes of this charge,
and succeeded to the command of the Irish Brigade after General Meagher.
He was killed at Petersburg. The officer seated is Captain Clooney, of the
same regiment, who was killed at Antietam. Sitting next to him is Father
Dillon, Chaplain of the Sixty-third New York, and to the right Father
Corby, Chaplain of the Eighty-eighth New York; the latter gave absolution
to Caldwell's Division, of Hancock's Corps, under a very heavy fire at
Gettysburg. By the side of Colonel Kelly stands a visiting priest. The
identification of this group has been furnished by Captain W. L. D.
O'Grady, of the Eighty-eighth New York.



Marye's House marked the center of the Confederate position on the
Heights, before which the Federals fell three deep in one of the bravest
and bloodiest assaults of the war. The eastern boundary of the Marye
estate was a retaining wall, along which ran a sunken road; on the other
side of this was a stone wall, shoulder high, forming a perfect infantry
parapet. Here two brigades of Confederates were posted and on the crest
above them were the supporting batteries, while the slope between was
honeycombed with the rifle-pits of the sharpshooters, one of which is seen
in the picture. Six times did the Federals, raked by the deadly fire of
the Washington Artillery, advance to within a hundred yards of the sunken
road, only to be driven back by the rapid volleys of the Confederate
infantry concealed there. Less than three of every five men in Hancock's
division came back from their charge on these death-dealing heights. The
complete repulse of the day and the terrific slaughter were the barren
results of an heroic effort to obey orders.



From this, the Lacy House, which Sumner had made his headquarters, he
directed the advance of his right grand division of the Army of the
Potomac on December 11, 1862. Little did he dream that his men of the
Second Corps were to bear the brunt of the fighting and the most crushing
blow of the defeat on the 13th. Soon after three o'clock on the morning of
the 11th the columns moved out with alacrity to the river bank and before
daybreak, hidden at first by the fog, the pontoniers began building the
bridges. Confederate sharpshooters drove off the working party from the
bridge below the Lacy House and also from the middle bridge farther down.
As the mist cleared, volunteers ferried themselves over in the boats and
drove off the riflemen. At last, at daybreak of the 12th, the town of
Fredericksburg was occupied, but the whole of another foggy day was
consumed in getting the army concentrated on the western shore. Nineteen
batteries (one hundred and four guns) accompanied Sumner's troops, but all
save seven of these were ordered back or left in the streets of
Fredericksburg. Late on the morning of the 13th the confused and belated
orders began to arrive from Burnside's headquarters across the river; one
was for Sumner to assault the Confederate batteries on Marye's Heights. At
nightfall Sumner's men retired into Fredericksburg, leaving 4,800 dead or
wounded on the field. "Oh, those men, those men over there! I cannot get
them out of my mind!" wailed Burnside in an agony of failure. Yet he was
planning almost in the same breath to lead in person his old command, the
Ninth Corps, in another futile charge in the morning. On the night of the
14th, better judgment prevailed and the order came to retire across the



General Joseph Hooker and his Staff. These were the men whose work it was,
during the winter after Fredericksburg, to restore the _esprit de corps_
of the Army of the Potomac. The tireless energy and magnetic personality
of Hooker soon won officers from their disaffection and put an end to
desertions--which had been going on at the rate of two hundred per day
before he took command. By spring everything seemed propitious for an
aggressive campaign, the plans for which were brilliantly drawn and at
first vigorously carried out, giving truth to Lincoln's expressed belief
that Hooker was "a trained and skilful soldier." In that remarkable letter
of admonition to Hooker upon assuming command, Lincoln added: "But beware
of rashness, beware of rashness; with energy and with sleepless vigilance
go forward and give us victories." By some strange fate it was not
rashness but quite the contrary which compassed the failure of "Fighting
Joe" Hooker at Chancellorsville. His first forward advance was executed
with his usual bold initiative. Before Lee could fully divine his purpose,
Hooker with thirty-six thousand men was across his left flank in a
favorable position, with the main body of his army at hand ready to give
battle. Then came Hooker's inexplicable order to fall back upon
Chancellorsville. That very night, consulting in the abandoned Federal
position, Lee and Jackson formed the plan which drove Hooker back across
the Rappahannock in ignominious defeat.


After the Fredericksburg campaign the Union forces encamped at Falmouth
for the winter, while Lee remained with the Southern army on the site of
his successful contest at Fredericksburg. Thus the two armies lay facing
each other within hailing distance, across the historic river, waiting for
the coming of spring. Major-General Joseph Hooker, popularly known as
"Fighting Joe" Hooker, who had succeeded Burnside in command of the Army
of the Potomac, soon had the troops on a splendid campaign footing. His
force was between 125,000 and 130,000 men; Lee's, about 60,000.

Hooker conceived a plan of campaign which was ingenious and masterful, and
had he carried it out there would have been a different story to tell
about Chancellorsville. The plan was to deploy a portion of the army to
serve as a decoy to Lee, while the remainder of the host at the same time
occupied the vicinity of Chancellorsville, a country mansion, in the
center of the wilderness that stretched along the Rappahannock.

Lee was a great general and a master in strategy. He had learned of
Hooker's plan and, paying but little attention to Sedgwick east of
Fredericksburg, had turned to face Hooker. By a rapid night march he met
the Union army before it had reached its destination. He was pushed back,
however, by Sykes, of Meade's corps, who occupied the position assigned to
him. Meade was on the left, and Slocum on the right, with adequate support
in the rear. All was in readiness and most favorable for the "certain
destruction" of the Confederates predicted by "Fighting Joe" when, to the
amazement and consternation of all his officers, Hooker ordered the whole
army to retire to the position it had occupied the day before, leaving the
advantage to his opponents.

Lee quickly moved his army into the position thus relinquished, and began
feeling the Federal lines with skirmishers and some cannonading during the
evening of May 1st. By the next morning the two armies were in line of

The danger in which the Confederate army now found itself was extreme. One
large Federal army was on its front, while another was at its rear, below
Fredericksburg. But Lee threw the hopes of success into one great and
decisive blow at Hooker's host. Dividing an army in the face of the foe is
extremely dangerous and contrary to all accepted theories of military
strategy; but there comes a time when such a course proves the salvation
of the legions in peril. Such was the case at Chancellorsville on May 2,

At 7 A.M. the cannonading began its death-song and was soon followed by
infantry demonstrations, but without serious results. The action was
continued. Early in the afternoon, Hooker by a ruse was beguiled into the
belief that Lee's army was in full retreat. What Hooker had seen and
believed to be a retreat was the marching of Jackson's forces, about
twenty-six thousand strong, from the battlefield. What he did not see,
however, was that, after a few miles, Jackson turned abruptly and made for
the right flank of the Federal host, the Eleventh Corps, under Howard. It
was after half-past five when Jackson broke from the woods into which he
had marched in a paralyzing charge upon the unprepared troops of Howard.

The approach of this Confederate force was first intimated to the Federals
by the bending of shrubbery, the stampede of rabbits and squirrels, and
the flocks of birds in wild flight, as before a storm. Then appeared a few
skirmishers, then a musket volley, and then the storm broke in all its
fury--the war scream, the rattling musketry, the incessant roar of cannon.
The Confederates fought heroically. The knowledge that "Old Jack" was on
the field was inspiration enough for them. The charge was so precipitous,
so unexpected and terrific that it was impossible for the Federals to hold
their lines and stand against the impact of that awful onslaught which
carried everything before it. The regiments in Jackson's path, resisting
his advance, were cut to pieces and swept along as by a tidal wave, rolled
up like a scroll, multitudes of men, horses, mules, and cattle being piled
in an inextricable mass. Characteristic of Jackson's brilliant and
unexpected movements, it was like an electric flash, knocking the Eleventh
Corps into impotence, as Jackson expected it would. This crowning and
final stroke of Jackson's military genius was not impromptu, but the
result of his own carefully worked-out plan, which had been approved by

General Hooker was spending the late afternoon hours in his headquarters
at the Chancellor house. To the eastward there was considerable firing,
where his men were carrying out the plan of striking Lee in flank. Jackson
was retreating, of that he was sure, and Sickles, with Pleasanton's
cavalry and other reënforcements, was in pursuit. Everything seemed to be
going well. About half-past six the sounds of battle grew suddenly louder
and seemed to come from another direction. A staff-officer went to the
front of the house and turned his field-glass toward the west.

"My God, here they come!"

At the startled cry Hooker sprang upon his horse and dashed down the road.
He encountered portions of the Eleventh Corps pouring out of the forest--a
badly mixed crowd of men, wagons, and ambulances. They brought the news
that the right wing was overwhelmed. Hurriedly Hooker sought his old
command, Berry's division of the Third Corps, stationed in support of the
Eleventh. "Forward, with the bayonet!" he commanded.

An officer who witnessed the scene says the division advanced with a firm
and steady step, cleaving the multitude of disbanded Federals as the bow
of a vessel cleaves the waves of the sea. It struck the advance of the
Confederates obliquely and checked it, with the aid of the Twelfth Corps

A dramatic, though tragic, feature of the rout was the charge of the
Eighth Pennsylvania cavalry, under Major Keenan, in the face of almost
certain death, to save the artillery of the Third Corps from capture. The
guns rested upon low ground and within reach of the Confederates. The
Federals had an equal opportunity to seize the artillery, but required a
few minutes to prepare themselves for action. The Confederate advance must
be checked for these few moments, and for this purpose Keenan gallantly
led his five hundred cavalrymen into the woods, while his comrades brought
the guns to bear upon the columns in gray. He gained the necessary time,
but lost his life at the head of his regiment, together with Captain
Arrowsmith and Adjutant Haddock, who fell by his side.

The light of day had faded from the gruesome scene. The mighty turmoil was
silenced as darkness gathered, but the day's carnage was not ended. No
camp-fires were lighted in the woods or on the plain. The two hostile
forces were concealed in the darkness, watching through the shadows,
waiting for--they knew not what. Finally at midnight the order "Forward"
was repeated in subdued tones along the lines of Sickles' corps. Out over
the open and into the deep, dark thicket the men in blue pursued their
stealthy advance upon the Confederate position. Then the tragedies of the
night were like that of the day, and the moon shed her peaceful rays down
upon those shadowy figures as they struggled forward through the woods, in
the ravines, over the hillocks. The Federals, at heavy loss, gained the
position, and the engagement assumed the importance of a victory.

It was on this day that death robbed the South of one of her most beloved
warriors. After darkness had overspread the land, Jackson, accompanied by
members of his staff, undertook a reconnaissance of the Federal lines. He
was planning a night attack. He came upon a line of Union infantry lying
on its arms and was forced to turn back along the plank road, on both
sides of which he had stationed his own men with orders to fire upon any
body of men approaching from the direction of the Federal battle-lines.
The little cavalcade of Confederate officers galloped along the highway,
directly toward the ambuscade, and apparently forgetful of the strict
orders left with the skirmishers. A sudden flash of flame lighted the
scene for an instant, and within that space of time the Confederacy was
deprived of one of its greatest captains. Jackson was severely wounded,
and by his own men and through his own orders. When the news spread
through Jackson's corps and through the Confederate army the grief of the
Southern soldiers was heartbreaking to witness. The sorrow spread even
into the ranks of the Federal army, which, while opposed to the wounded
general on many hard-fought battle-grounds, had learned to respect and
admire "Stonewall" Jackson.

The loss of Jackson to the South was incalculable. Lee had pronounced him
the right arm of the whole army. Next to Lee, Jackson was considered the
ablest general in the Confederate army. His shrewdness of judgment, his
skill in strategy, his lightning-like strokes, marked him as a unique and
brilliant leader. Devoutly religious, gentle and noble in character, the
nation that was not to be disunited lost a great citizen, as the
Confederate army lost a great captain, when a few days later General
Jackson died.

That night orders passed from the Federal headquarters to Sedgwick, below
Fredericksburg, eleven miles away. Between him and Hooker stood the
Confederate army, flushed with its victories of the day. Immediately in
his front was Fredericksburg, with a strong guard of Southern warriors.
Beyond loomed Marye's Heights, the battle-ground on which Burnside had in
the preceding winter left so many of his brave men in the vain endeavor to
drive the Confederate defenders from the crest.

The courageous Sedgwick, notwithstanding the formidable obstacles that lay
on the road to Chancellorsville, responded immediately to Hooker's order.
He was already on the south side of the river, but he was farther away
than Hooker supposed. Shortly after midnight he began a march that was
fraught with peril and death. Strong resistance was offered the advancing
blue columns as they came to the threshold of Fredericksburg, but they
swept on and over the defenders, and at dawn were at the base of the
heights. On the crest waved the standards of the Confederate Washington
Artillery. At the foot of the slope was the stone wall before which the
Federals had fought and died but a few months before, in the battle of
Fredericksburg. Reenforcements were arriving in the Confederate trenches
constantly. The crest and slopes bristled with cannon and muskets. The
pathways around the heights were barricaded. The route to the front seemed
blocked; still, the cry for help from Hooker was resounding in the ears of

Gathering his troops, he attacked directly upon the stone wall and on up
the hillside, in the face of a terrific storm of artillery and musketry.
The first assault failed; a flank movement met with no better success; and
the morning was nearly gone when the Confederates finally gave way at the
point of the bayonet before the irresistible onset of men in blue. The way
to Chancellorsville was open; but the cost to the Federals was appalling.
Hundreds of the soldiers in blue lay wrapped in death upon the bloody
slopes of Marye's Heights.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and not at daybreak, as Hooker had
directed, when Sedgwick appeared in the rear of Lee's legions. A strong
force of Confederates under Early prevented his further advance toward a
juncture with Hooker's army at Chancellorsville. Since five o'clock in
the morning the battle had been raging at the latter place, and Jackson's
men, now commanded by Stuart, though being mowed down in great numbers,
vigorously pressed the attack of the day while crying out to one another
"Remember Jackson," as they thought of their wounded leader.

While this engagement was at its height General Hooker, leaning against a
pillar of the Chancellor house, was felled to the ground, and for a moment
it was thought he was killed. The pillar had been shattered by a
cannon-ball. Hooker soon revived under the doctor's care and with great
force of will he mounted his horse and showed himself to his anxious
troops. He then withdrew his army to a stronger position, well guarded
with artillery. The Confederates did not attempt to assail it. The third
day's struggle at Chancellorsville was finished by noon, except in Lee's
rear, where Sedgwick fought all day, without success, to reach the main
body of Hooker's army. The Federals suffered very serious losses during
this day's contest. Even then it was believed that the advantage rested
with the larger Army of the Potomac and that the Federals had an
opportunity to win. Thirty-seven thousand Union troops, the First, and
three-quarters of the Fifth Corps, had been entirely out of the fight on
that day. Five thousand men of the Eleventh Corps, who were eager to
retrieve their misfortune, were also inactive.

When night came, and the shades of darkness hid the sights of suffering on
the battlefield, the Federal army was resting in a huge curve, the left
wing on the Rappahannock and the right on the Rapidan. In this way the
fords across the rivers which led to safety were in control of the Army of
the Potomac. Lee moved his corps close to the bivouacs of the army in
blue. But, behind the Confederate battle-line, there was a new factor in
the struggle in the person of Sedgwick, with the remnants of his gallant
corps, which had numbered nearly twenty-two thousand when they started for
the front, but now were depleted by their terrific charge upon Marye's
Heights and the subsequent hard and desperate struggle with Early in the

Lee was between two fires--Hooker in front and Sedgwick in the rear, both
of whose forces were too strong to be attacked simultaneously. Again the
daring leader of the Confederate legions did the unexpected, and divided
his army in the presence of the foe, though he was without the aid of his
great lieutenant, "Stonewall" Jackson.

During the night Lee made his preparations, and when dawn appeared in the
eastern skies the movement began. Sedgwick, weak and battered by his
contact with Early on the preceding afternoon, resisted bravely, but to no
avail, and the Confederates closed in upon him on three sides, leaving the
way to Banks's Ford on the Rappahannock open to escape. Slowly the
Federals retreated and, as night descended, rested upon the river bank.
After dark the return to the northern side was begun by Sedgwick's men,
and the Chancellorsville campaign was practically ended.

The long, deep trenches full of Federal and Confederate dead told the
awful story of Chancellorsville. If we gaze into these trenches, which by
human impulse we are led to do, after the roar and din of the carnage is
still, the scene greeting the eye will never be forgotten. Side by side,
the heroes in torn and bloody uniforms, their only shrouds, were gently

The Union loss in killed and wounded was a little over seventeen thousand,
and it cost the South thirteen thousand men to gain this victory on the
banks of the Rappahannock. The loss to both armies in officers was very

The two armies were weary and more than decimated. It appeared that both
were glad at the prospect of a cessation of hostilities. On the night of
May 5th, in a severe storm, Hooker conveyed his corps safely across the
river and settled the men again in their cantonments of the preceding
winter at Falmouth. The Confederates returned to their old encampment at



General Joseph Hooker. A daring and experienced veteran of the Mexican
War, Hooker had risen in the Civil War from brigade commander to be the
commander of a grand division of the Army of the Potomac, and had never
been found wanting. His advancement to the head of the Army of the
Potomac, on January 26, 1863, was a tragic episode in his own career and
in that of the Federal arms. Gloom hung heavy over the North after
Fredericksburg. Upon Hooker fell the difficult task of redeeming the
unfulfilled political pledges for a speedy lifting of that gloom. It was
his fortune only to deepen it.



The austere, determined features of the victor of Chancellorsville, just
as they appeared two weeks before the tragic shot that cost the
Confederacy its greatest Lieutenant-General--and, in the opinion of sound
historians, its chief hope for independence. Only once had a war
photograph of Jackson been taken up to April, 1863, when, just before the
movement toward Chancellorsville, he was persuaded to enter a
photographer's tent at Hamilton's Crossing, some three miles below
Fredericksburg, and to sit for his last portrait. At a glance one can feel
the self-expression and power in this stern worshiper of the God of
Battles; one can understand the eulogy written by the British military
historian, Henderson: "The fame of 'Stonewall' Jackson is no longer the
exclusive property of Virginia and the South; it has become the birthright
of every man privileged to call himself an American."


In this tangled nook Lee's right-hand man was shot through a terrible
mistake of his own soldiers. It was the second of May, 1863. After his
brilliant flank march, the evening attack on the rear of Hooker's army had
just been driven home. About half-past eight, Jackson had ridden beyond
his lines to reconnoiter for the final advance. A single rifle-shot rang
out in the darkness. The outposts of the two armies were engaged. Jackson
turned toward his own line, where the Eighteenth North Carolina was
stationed. The regiment, keenly on the alert and startled by the group of
strange horsemen riding through the gloom, fired a volley that brought
several men and horses to the earth. Jackson was struck once in the right
hand and twice in the left arm, a little below the shoulder. His horse
dashed among the trees; but with his bleeding right hand Jackson succeeded
in seizing the reins and turning the frantic animal back into the road.
Only with difficulty was the general taken to the rear so that his wounds
might be dressed. To his attendants he said, "Tell them simply that you
have a wounded Confederate officer." To one who asked if he was seriously
hurt, he replied: "Don't bother yourself about me. Win the battle first
and attend to the wounded afterward." He was taken to Guiney's Station. At
first it was hoped that he would recover, but pneumonia set in and his
strength gradually ebbed. On Sunday evening, May 10th, he uttered the
words which inspired the young poet, Sidney Lanier, to write his elegy,
beautiful in its serene resignation.



Behind the deadly stone wall of Marye's Heights after Sedgwick's men had
swept across it in the gallant charge of May 3, 1863. This was one of the
strongest natural positions stormed during the war. In front of this wall
the previous year, nearly 6,000 of Burnside's men had fallen, and it was
not carried. Again in the Chancellorsville campaign Sedgwick's Sixth Corps
was ordered to assault it. It was defended the second time with the same
death-dealing stubbornness but with less than a fourth of the former
numbers--9,000 Confederates against 20,000 Federals. At eleven o'clock in
the morning the line of battle, under Colonel Hiram Burnham, moved out
over the awful field of the year before, supported to right and left by
flanking columns. Up to within twenty-five yards of the wall they pressed,
when again the flame of musketry fire belched forth, laying low in six
minutes 36.5 per cent. of the Fifth Wisconsin and the Sixth Maine. The
assailants wavered and rallied, and then with one impulse both columns and
line of battle hurled themselves upon the wall in a fierce hand-to-hand
combat. A soldier of the Seventh Massachusetts happened to peer through a
crack in a board fence and saw that it covered the flank of the double
line of Confederates in the road. Up and over the fence poured the
Federals and drove the Confederates from the heights.

[Illustration: THE WORK OF ONE SHELL


Part of the Havoc Wrought on Marye's Heights by the Assault of Sedgwick on
May 3, 1863. No sooner had they seized the stone wall than the victorious
Federals swarmed up and over the ridge above, driving the Confederates
from the rifle-pits, capturing the guns of the famous Washington Artillery
which had so long guarded the Heights, and inflicting slaughter upon the
assaulting columns. If Sedgwick had had cavalry he could have crushed the
divided forces of Early and cleared the way for a rapid advance to attack
Lee's rear. In the picture we see Confederate caisson wagons and horses
destroyed by a lucky shot from the Second Massachusetts' siege-gun battery
planted across the river at Falmouth to support Sedgwick's assault.
Surveying the scene stands General Herman Haupt, Chief of the Bureau of
Military Railways, the man leaning against the stump. By him is W. W.
Wright, Superintendent of the Military Railroad. The photograph was taken
on May 3d, after the battle. The Federals held Marye's Heights until
driven off by fresh forces which Lee had detached from his main army at
Chancellorsville and sent against Sedgwick on the afternoon of the 4th.


From this mansion, Hooker's headquarters during the battle of
Chancellorsville, he rode away after the injury he received there on May
3d, never to return. The general, dazed after Jackson's swoop upon the
right, was besides in deep anxiety as to Sedgwick. The latter's forty
thousand men had not yet come up. Hooker was unwilling to suffer further
loss without the certainty of his cooperation. So he decided to withdraw
his army. The movement was the signal for increased artillery fire from
the Confederate batteries, marking the doom of the old Chancellor house.
Its end was accompanied by some heartrending scenes. Major Bigelow thus
describes them: "Missiles pierced the walls or struck in the brickwork;
shells exploded in the upper rooms, setting the building on fire; the
chimneys were demolished and their fragments rained down upon the wounded
about the building. All this time the women and children (including some
slaves) of the Chancellor family, nineteen persons in all, were in the
cellar. The wounded were removed from in and around the building, men of
both armies nobly assisting one another in the work."



In modern warfare the American Indian seems somehow to be entirely out of
place. We think of him with the tomahawk and scalping-knife and have
difficulty in conceiving him in the ranks, drilling, doing police duty,
and so on. Yet more than three thousand Indians were enlisted in the
Federal army. The Confederates enlisted many more in Missouri, Arkansas,
and Texas. In the Federal army the red men were used as advance
sharpshooters and rendered meritorious service. This photograph shows some
of the wounded Indian sharpshooters on Marye's Heights after the second
battle of Fredericksburg. A hospital orderly is attending to the wants of
the one on the left-hand page, and the wounds of the others have been
dressed. In the entry of John L. Marye's handsome mansion close by lay a
group of four Indian sharpshooters, each with the loss of a limb--of an
arm at the shoulder, of a leg at the knee, or with an amputation at the
thigh. They neither spoke nor moaned, but suffered and died, mute in their
agony. During the campaign of 1864, from the Wilderness to Appomattox,
Captain Ely S. Parker, a gigantic Indian, became one of Grant's favorite
aids. Before the close of the war he had been promoted to the rank of
colonel, and it was he who drafted in a beautiful handwriting the terms of
Lee's surrender. He stood over six feet in height and was a conspicuous
figure on Grant's staff. The Southwestern Indians engaged in some of the
earliest battles under General Albert Pike, a Northerner by birth, but a
Southern sympathizer.


_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    On the banks of this, the greatest river in the world, the most
    decisive and far-reaching battle of the war was fought. Here at
    Vicksburg over one hundred thousand gallant soldiers and a powerful
    fleet of gunboats and ironclads in terrible earnestness for forty days
    and nights fought to decide whether the new Confederate States should
    be cut in twain; whether the great river should flow free to the Gulf,
    or should have its commerce hindered. We all know the result--the
    Union army under General Grant, and the Union navy under Admiral
    Porter were victorious. The Confederate army, under General Pemberton,
    numbering thirty thousand men, was captured and General Grant's army
    set free for operating in other fields. It was a staggering blow from
    which the Confederacy never rallied.--_Lieutenant-General Stephen D.
    Lee, C. S. A., at the dedication of the Massachusetts Volunteers'
    statue at the Vicksburg National Military Park, Vicksburg,
    Mississippi, November 14, 1903._

The Mississippi River, in its lower course, winds like a mighty serpent
from side to side along a vast alluvial bottom, which in places is more
than forty miles in width. On the eastern bank, these great coils here and
there sweep up to the bluffs of the highlands of Tennessee and
Mississippi. On these cliffs are situated Memphis, Port Hudson, Grand
Gulf, and Vicksburg. The most important of these from a military point of
view was Vicksburg, often called the "Gibraltar of the West." Situated two
hundred feet above the current, on a great bend of the river, its cannon
could command the waterway for miles in either direction, while the
obstacles in the way of a land approach were almost equally

The Union arms had captured New Orleans, in the spring of 1862, and
Memphis in June of that year; but the Confederates still held Vicksburg
and Port Hudson and the two hundred and fifty miles of river that lies
between them. The military object of the Federal armies in the West was
to gain control of the entire course of the great Mississippi that it
might "roll unvexed to the sea," to use Lincoln's terse expression, and
that the rich States of the Southwest, from which the Confederacy drew
large supplies and thousands of men for her armies, might be cut off from
the rest of the South. If Vicksburg were captured, Port Hudson must fall.
The problem, therefore, was how to get control of Vicksburg.

On the promotion of Halleck to the command of all the armies of the North,
with headquarters at Washington, Grant was left in superior command in the
West and the great task before him was the capture of the "Gibraltar of
the West." Vicksburg might have been occupied by the Northern armies at
any time during the first half of the year 1862, but in June of that year
General Bragg sent Van Dorn with a force of fifteen thousand to occupy and
fortify the heights. Van Dorn was a man of prodigious energy. In a short
time he had hundreds of men at work planting batteries, digging rifle-pits
above the water front and in the rear of the town, mounting heavy guns and
building bomb-proof magazines in tiers along the hillsides. All through
the summer, the work progressed under the direction of Engineer S. H.
Lockett, and by the coming of winter the city was a veritable Gibraltar.

From the uncompleted batteries on the Vicksburg bluffs, the citizens and
the garrison soldiers viewed the advance division of Farragut's fleet,
under Commander Lee, in the river, on May 18, 1862. Fifteen hundred
infantry were on board, under command of General Thomas Williams, and with
them was a battery of artillery. Williams reconnoitered the works, and
finding them too strong for his small force he returned to occupy Baton
Rouge. The authorities at Washington now sent Farragut peremptory orders
to clear the Mississippi and accordingly about the middle of June, a
flotilla of steamers and seventeen mortar schooners, under Commander D. D.
Porter, departed from New Orleans and steamed up the river.
Simultaneously Farragut headed a fleet of three war vessels and seven
gunboats, carrying one hundred and six guns, toward Vicksburg from Baton
Rouge. Many transports accompanied the ships from Baton Rouge, on which
there were three thousand of Williams' troops.

The last days of June witnessed the arrival of the combined naval forces
of Farragut and Porter below the Confederate stronghold. Williams
immediately disembarked his men on the Louisiana shore, opposite
Vicksburg, and they were burdened with implements required in digging
trenches and building levees.

The mighty Mississippi, at this point and in those days, swept in a
majestic bend and formed a peninsula of the western, or Louisiana shore.
Vicksburg was situated on the eastern, or Mississippi shore, below the top
of the bend. Its batteries of cannon commanded the river approach for
miles in either direction. Federal engineers quickly recognized the
strategic position of the citadel on the bluff; and also as quickly saw a
method by which the passage up and down the river could be made
comparatively safe for their vessels, and at the same time place Vicksburg
"high and dry" by cutting a channel for the Mississippi through the neck
of land that now held it in its sinuous course.

While Farragut stormed the Confederate batteries at Vicksburg, Williams
began the tremendous task of diverting the mighty current across the
peninsula. Farragut's bombardment by his entire fleet failed to silence
Vicksburg's cannon-guards, although the defenders likewise failed to stop
the progress of the fleet. The Federal naval commander then determined to
dash past the fortifications, trusting to the speed of his vessels and the
stoutness of their armor to survive the tremendous cannonade that would
fall upon his flotilla. Early in the morning of June 28th the thrilling
race against death began, and after two hours of terrific bombardment
aided by the mortar boats stationed on both banks, Farragut's fleet with
the exception of three vessels passed through the raging inferno to the
waters above Vicksburg, with a loss of fifteen killed and thirty wounded.
On the 1st of July Flag-Officer Davis with his river gunboats arrived from
Memphis and joined Farragut.

Williams and his men, including one thousand negroes, labored like Titans
to complete their canal, but a sudden rise of the river swept away the
barriers with a terrific roar, and the days of herculean labor went for
naught. Again Williams' attempt to subdue the stronghold was abandoned,
and he returned with his men when Farragut did, on July 24th, to Baton
Rouge to meet death there on August 5th when General Breckinridge made a
desperate but unsuccessful attempt to drive the Union forces from the
Louisiana capital.

Farragut urged upon General Halleck the importance of occupying the city
on the bluff with a portion of his army; but that general gave no heed;
and while even then it was too late to secure the prize without a contest,
it would have been easy in comparison to that which it required a year

In the mean time, the river steamers took an important part in the
preliminary operations against the city. Davis remained at Memphis with
his fleet for about three weeks after the occupation of that city on the
6th of June, meanwhile sending four gunboats and a transport up the White
River, with the Forty-sixth Indiana regiment, under Colonel Fitch. The
object of the expedition, undertaken at Halleck's command, was to destroy
Confederate batteries and to open communication with General Curtis, who
was approaching from the west. It failed in the latter purpose but did
some effective work with the Southern batteries along the way.

The one extraordinary incident of the expedition was the disabling of the
_Mound City_, one of the ironclad gunboats, and the great loss of life
that it occasioned. When near St. Charles the troops under Fitch were
landed, and the _Mound City_ moving up the river, was fired on by
concealed batteries under the direction of Lieutenant Dunnington. A
32-pound shot struck the vessel, crashed through the side and passed
through the steam-drum. The steam filled the vessel in an instant. Many of
the men were so quickly enveloped in the scalding vapor that they had no
chance to escape. Others leaped overboard, some being drowned and some
rescued through the efforts of the _Conestoga_ which was lying near. While
straining every nerve to save their lives, the men had to endure a shower
of bullets from Confederate sharpshooters on the river banks. Of the one
hundred and seventy-five officers and men of the _Mound City_ only
twenty-five escaped death or injury in that fearful catastrophe.
Meanwhile, Colonel Fitch with his land forces rushed upon the Confederate
batteries and captured them. The unfortunate vessel was at length repaired
and returned to service.

For some time it had been known in Federal military and naval circles that
a powerful ironclad similar to the famous _Monitor_ of Eastern waters was
being rushed to completion up the Yazoo. The new vessel was the
_Arkansas_. On July 15th, she steamed through the Union fleet, bravely
exchanging broadsides, and lodged safely under the guns of Vicksburg. That
evening the Federal boats in turn ran past the doughty _Arkansas_, but
failed to destroy her.

The month of July had not been favorable to the Federal hopes. Farragut
had returned to New Orleans. General Williams had gone with him as far as
Baton Rouge. Davis now went with his fleet back to Helena. Halleck was
succeeded by Grant. Vicksburg entered upon a period of quiet.

But this condition was temporary. The city's experience of blood and fire
had only begun. During the summer and autumn of 1862, the one thought
uppermost in the mind of General Grant was how to gain possession of the
stronghold. He was already becoming known for his bull-dog tenacity. In
the autumn, two important changes took place, but one day apart. On
October 14th, General John C. Pemberton succeeded Van Dorn in command of
the defenses of Vicksburg, and on the next day David D. Porter succeeded
Davis as commander of the Federal fleet on the upper Mississippi.

So arduous was the task of taking Vicksburg that the wits of General
Grant, and those of his chief adviser, General W. T. Sherman, were put to
the test in the last degree to accomplish the end. Grant knew that the
capture of this fortified city was of great importance to the Federal
cause, and that it would ever be looked upon as one of the chief acts in
the drama of the Civil War.

The first plan attempted was to divide the army, Sherman taking part of it
from Memphis and down the Mississippi on transports, while Grant should
move southward along the line of the Mississippi Central Railroad to
cooperate with Sherman, his movements to be governed by the efforts of the
scattered Confederate forces in Mississippi to block him. But the whole
plan was destined to failure, through the energies of General Van Dorn and
others of the Confederate army near Grant's line of communication.

The authorities at Washington preferred the river move upon Vicksburg, as
the navy could keep the line of communication open. The stronghold now
stood within a strong line of defense extending from Haynes' Bluff on the
Yazoo to Grand Gulf on the Mississippi, thirty miles below Vicksburg. To
prepare for Sherman's attack across the swamps of the Yazoo, Admiral
Porter made several expeditions up that tortuous stream to silence
batteries and remove torpedoes. In one of these he lost one of the Eads
ironclads, the _Cairo_, blown up by a torpedo, and in another the brave
Commander Gwin, one of the heroes of Shiloh, was mortally wounded.

Sherman, with an army of thirty-two thousand men, left Memphis on December
20th, and landed a few days later some miles north of Vicksburg on the
banks of the Yazoo. On the 29th he made a daring attack in three columns
on the Confederate lines of defense at Chickasaw Bayou and suffered a
decisive repulse. His loss was nearly two thousand men; the Confederate
loss was scarcely two hundred.

Two hundred feet above the bayou, beyond where the Federals were
approaching, towered the Chickasaw Bluffs, to which Pemberton hastened
troops from Vicksburg as soon as he learned Sherman's object. At the base
of the bluff, and stretching away to the north and west were swamps and
forests intersected by deep sloughs, overhung with dense tangles of vines
and cane-brakes. Federal valor vied with Confederate pluck in this fight
among the marshes and fever-infested jungle-land.

One of Sherman's storming parties, under General G. W. Morgan, came upon a
broad and deep enlargement of the bayou, McNutt Lake, which interposed
between it and the Confederates in the rifle-pits on the slopes and crest
of the bluff. In the darkness of the night of December 28th, the Federal
pontoniers labored to construct a passage-way across the lake. When
morning dawned the weary pontoniers were chagrined to discover their
well-built structure spanning a slough leading in another direction than
toward the base of the bluff. The bridge was quickly taken up, and the
Federals recommenced their labors, this time in daylight and within sight
and range of the Southern regiments on the hill. The men in blue worked
desperately to complete the span before driven away by the foe's cannon;
but the fire increased with every minute, and the Federals finally

Another storming party attempted to assail the Confederates from across a
sandbar of the bayou, but was halted at the sight and prospect of
overcoming a fifteen-foot bank on the farther side. The crumbling bank was
surmounted with a levee three feet high; the steep sides of the barrier
had crumbled away, leaving an overhanging shelf, two feet wide. Two
companies of the Sixth Missouri regiment volunteered to cross the two
hundred yards of exposed passage, and to cut a roadway through the rotten
bank to allow their comrades a free path to the bluff beyond. To add to
the peril of the crossing, the sandbar was strewn with tangles of
undergrowth and fallen trees, and the Confederate shells and bullets were
raining upon the ground. Still, the gallant troops began their dash. From
the very start, a line of wounded and dead Missourians marked the passage
of the volunteers. The survivors reached the bank and desperately sought
to dig the roadway. From the shrubbery on the bank suddenly appeared
Confederate sharpshooters who poured their fire into the laboring
soldiers; the flame of the discharging muskets burned the clothing of the
Federals because the hostile forces were so close. Human endurance could
not stand before this carnage, and the brave Missourians fled from the
inferno. Sherman now found the northern pathway to Vicksburg impassable,
and withdrew his men to the broad Mississippi.

Earlier in the same month had occurred two other events which, with the
defeat of Chickasaw, go to make up the triple disaster to the Federals. On
the 11th, General Nathan Forrest, one of the most brilliant cavalry
leaders on either side, began one of those destructive raids which
characterize the Civil War. With twenty-five hundred horsemen, Forrest
dashed unopposed through the country north of Grant's army, tore up sixty
miles of railroad and destroyed all telegraph lines.

Meantime, on December 20th, the day on which Sherman left Memphis, General
Van Dorn pounced upon Holly Springs, in Mississippi, like an eagle on its
prey, capturing the guard of fifteen hundred men and burning the great
store of supplies, worth $1,500,000, which Grant had left there. Through
the raids of Forrest and Van Dorn, Grant was left without supplies and for
eleven days without communication with the outside world. He marched
northward to Grand Junction, in Tennessee, a distance of eighty miles,
living off the country. It was not until January 8, 1863, that he heard,
through Washington, of the defeat of Sherman in his assault on Chickasaw

Grant and Sherman had no thought of abandoning Vicksburg because of this
failure. But a month of unfortunate military dissension over rank in the
command of Sherman's army resulted in General John A. McClernand, armed
with authority from Washington, coming down from Illinois and superseding
Sherman. On January 11, 1864, he captured Arkansas Post, a stronghold on
the Arkansas River. But Grant, having authority to supersede McClernand in
the general proceedings against Vicksburg, did so, on January 30th, and
arguments on military precedence were forgotten.

Grant was determined to lead his Army of the Tennessee below Vicksburg and
approach the city from the south, without breaking with his base of
supplies up the river. Two projects, both of which were destined to fail,
were under way during the winter and spring months of 1863. One of these
was to open a way for the river craft through Lake Providence, west of the
Mississippi, through various bayous and rivers into the Red River, a
detour of four hundred miles.

Another plan was to cut a channel through the peninsula of the great bend
of the Mississippi, opposite Vicksburg. For six weeks, thousands of men
worked like marmots digging this ditch; but, meantime, the river was
rising and, on March 8th, it broke over the embankment and the men had to
run for their lives. Many horses were drowned and a great number of
implements submerged. The "Father of Waters" had put a decisive veto on
the project and it had to be given up. Still another plan that failed was
to cut through the Yazoo Pass and approach from the north by way of the
Coldwater, the Tallahatchie, and the Yazoo rivers.

Failure with Grant only increased his grim determination. He _would_ take
Vicksburg. His next plan was destined to bring success. It was to transfer
his army by land down the west bank of the Mississippi to a point below
the city and approach it from the south and west. This necessitated the
running of the batteries by Porter's fleet--an extremely perilous
enterprise. The army was divided into four corps, commanded respectively
by Sherman, McClernand, McPherson, and Hurlbut. The latter was stationed
at Memphis. On March 29th, the movement of McClernand from Milliken's Bend
to a point opposite Grand Gulf was begun. He was soon followed by
McPherson and a few weeks later by Sherman. It required a month for the
army, with its heavy artillery, to journey through the swamps and bogs of

While this march was in progress, something far more exciting was taking
place on the river. Porter ran the batteries of Vicksburg with his fleet.
After days of preparation the fleet of vessels, protected by cotton bales
and hay about the vital parts of the boats, with heavy logs slung near the
water-line--seven gunboats, the ram _General Price_, three transports, and
various barges were ready for the dangerous journey on the night of April
16th. Silently in the darkness, they left their station near the mouth of
the Yazoo, at a quarter past nine. For an hour and a half all was silence
and expectancy. The bluffs on the east loomed black against the night sky.
Suddenly, the flash of musketry fire pierced the darkness.

In a few minutes every battery overlooking the river was a center of
spurting flame. A storm of shot and shell was rained upon the passing
vessels. Not one escaped being struck many times. The water of the river
was lashed into foam by the shots and shell from the batteries. The
gunboats answered with their cannon. The air was filled with flying
missiles. Several houses on the Louisiana shore burst into flame and the
whole river from shore to shore was lighted with vivid distinctness. A
little later, a giant flame leaped from the bosom of the river. A vessel
had caught fire. It was the transport _Henry Clay_. It burned to the
water's edge, nearly all its crew escaping to other vessels. Grant
described the scene as "magnificent, but terrible"; Sherman pronounced it
"truly sublime."

By three in the morning, the fleet was below the city and ready to
cooperate with the army. One vessel had been destroyed, several others
were crippled; thirteen men had been wounded, but Grant had the assistance
he needed. About a week later, six more transports performed the same feat
and ran the batteries; each had two barges laden with forage and rations
in tow.

Grant's next move was to transfer the army across the river and to secure
a base of supplies. There, on the bluff, was Grand Gulf, a tempting spot.
But the Confederate guns showed menacingly over the brow of the hill.
After a fruitless bombardment by the fleet on April 29th, it was decided
that a more practical place to cross the river must be sought below.

Meanwhile, Sherman was ordered by his chief to advance upon the formidable
Haynes' Bluff, on the Yazoo River, some miles above the scene of his
repulse in the preceding December. The message had said, "Make a
demonstration on Haynes' Bluff, and make all the _show_ possible."
Sherman's transports, and three of Porter's gunboats, were closely
followed by the Confederate soldiers who had been stationed at the series
of defenses on the range of hills, and when they arrived at Snyder's Mill,
just below Haynes' Bluff, on April 30th, General Hébert and several
Louisiana regiments were awaiting them. On that day and the next the
Confederates fiercely engaged the Union fleet and troops, and on May 2d
Sherman withdrew his forces to the western bank of the Mississippi and
hastened to Grant. The feint had been most successful. The Confederates
had been prevented from sending reënforcements to Grand Gulf, and Grant's
crossing was greatly facilitated.

The fleet passed the batteries of Grand Gulf and stopped at Bruinsburg,
six miles below. A landing was soon made, the army taken across on April
30th, and a march to Port Gibson, twelve miles inland, was begun. General
Bowen, Confederate commander at Grand Gulf, came out and offered battle.
He was greatly outnumbered, but his troops fought gallantly throughout
most of the day, May 1st, before yielding the field. Port Gibson was then
occupied by the Union army, and Grand Gulf, no longer tenable, was
abandoned by the Confederates.

Grant now prepared for a campaign into the interior of Mississippi. His
first intention was to cooperate with General Banks in the capture of Port
Hudson, after which they would move together upon Vicksburg. But hearing
that Banks would not arrive for ten days, Grant decided that he would
proceed to the task before him without delay. His army at that time
numbered about forty-three thousand. That under Pemberton probably forty
thousand, while there were fifteen thousand Confederate troops at Jackson,
Mississippi, soon to be commanded by General Joseph E. Johnston, who was
hastening to that capital.

The Federal leader now determined on the bold plan of making a dash into
the interior of Mississippi, beating Johnston and turning on Pemberton
before their forces could be joined. This campaign is pronounced the most
brilliant in the Civil War. It was truly Napoleonic in conception and
execution. Grant knew that his base of supplies at Grand Gulf would be cut
off by Pemberton as soon as he moved away from it. He decided, therefore,
against the advice of his generals, to abandon his base altogether.

A more daring undertaking could scarcely be imagined. With a few days'
rations in their haversacks the troops were to make a dash that would
possibly take several weeks into the heart of a hostile country. This was
certainly defying fate. When General Halleck heard of Grant's daring
scheme he wired the latter from Washington, ordering him to move his army
down the river and cooperate with Banks. Fortunately, this order was
received too late to interfere with Grant's plans.

As soon as Sherman's divisions joined the main army the march was begun,
on May 7th. An advance of this character must be made with the greatest
celerity and Grant's army showed amazing speed. McPherson, who commanded
the right wing, proceeded toward Jackson by way of Raymond and at the
latter place encountered five thousand Confederates, on May 12th, who
blocked his way and were prepared for fight. The battle of Raymond lasted
two hours. McPherson was completely successful and the Confederates
hastened to join their comrades in Jackson.

McPherson lost no time. He moved on toward Jackson, and as the last of his
command left Raymond the advance of Sherman's corps reached it. That
night, May 13th, Grant ordered McPherson and Sherman to march upon Jackson
next morning by different roads, while McClernand was held in the rear
near enough to reënforce either in case of need. The rain fell in torrents
that night and, as Grant reported, in places the water was a foot deep in
the road. But nothing could daunt his determined army. At eleven o'clock
in the morning of the 14th, a concerted attack was made on the capital of
Mississippi. A few hours' brisk fighting concluded this act of the drama,
and the Stars and Stripes were unfurled on the State capitol. Among the
spoils were seventeen heavy guns. That night, Grant slept in the house
which Johnston had occupied the night before.

Meantime, Johnston had ordered Pemberton to detain Grant by attacking him
in the rear. But Pemberton considered it more advisable to move toward
Grand Gulf to separate Grant from his base of supplies, not knowing that
Grant had abandoned his base. And now, with Johnston's army scattered,
Grant left Sherman to burn bridges and military factories, and to tear up
the railroads about Jackson while he turned fiercely on Pemberton.
McPherson's corps took the lead. Grant called on McClernand to follow
without delay. Then, hearing that Pemberton was marching toward him, he
called on Sherman to hasten from Jackson. At Champion's Hill (Baker's
Creek) Pemberton stood in the way, with eighteen thousand men.

The battle was soon in progress--the heaviest of the campaign. It
continued for seven or eight hours. The Confederates were defeated with a
loss of nearly all their artillery and about half their force, including
four thousand men who were cut off from the main army and failed to rejoin
it. On the banks of the Big Black River, a few miles westward, the
Confederates made another stand, and here the fifth battle of the
investment of Vicksburg took place. It was short, sharp, decisive. The
Confederates suffered heavy losses and the remainder hastened to the
defenses of Vicksburg. They had set fire to the bridge across the Big
Black, and Grant's army was detained for a day--until the Confederates
were safely lodged in the city.

The Federal army now invested Vicksburg, occupying the surrounding hills.
It was May 18th when the remarkable campaign to reach Vicksburg came to an
end. In eighteen days, the army had marched one hundred and eighty miles
through a hostile country, fought and won five battles, captured a State
capital, had taken twenty-seven heavy cannon and sixty field-pieces, and
had slain or wounded six thousand men and captured as many more. As Grant
and Sherman rode out on the hill north of the city, the latter broke into
enthusiastic admiration of his chief, declaring that up to that moment he
had felt no assurance of success, and pronouncing the campaign one of the
greatest in history.

The great problem of investing Vicksburg was solved at last. Around the
doomed city gleamed the thousands of bayonets of the Union army. The
inhabitants and the army that had fled to it as a city of refuge were
penned in. But the Confederacy was not to yield without a stubborn
resistance. On May 19th, an advance was made on the works and the
besieging lines drew nearer and tightened their coils. Three days later,
on May 22nd, Grant ordered a grand assault by his whole army. The troops,
flushed with their victories of the past three weeks, were eager for the
attack. All the corps commanders set their watches by Grant's in order to
begin the assault at all points at the same moment--ten o'clock in the
morning. At the appointed time, the cannon from the encircling lines burst
forth in a deafening roar. Then came the answering thunders from the
mortar-boats on the Louisiana shore and from the gunboats anchored beneath
the bluff. The gunboats' fire was answered from within the bastions
protecting the city. The opening of the heavy guns on the land side was
followed by the sharper crackle of musketry--thousands of shots,
indistinguishable in a continuous roll.

The men in the Federal lines leaped from their hiding places and ran to
the parapets in the face of a murderous fire from the defenders of the
city, only to be mowed down by hundreds. Others came, crawling over the
bodies of their fallen comrades--now and then they planted their colors on
the battlements of the besieged city, to be cut down by the galling
Confederate fire. Thus it continued hour after hour, until the coming of
darkness. The assault had failed. The Union loss was about three thousand
brave men; the Confederate loss was probably not much over five hundred.

Grant had made a fearful sacrifice; he was paying a high price but he had
a reason for so doing--Johnston with a reënforcing army was threatening
him in the rear; by taking Vicksburg at this time he could have turned on
Johnston, and could have saved the Government sending any more Federal
troops; and, to use his own words, it was needed because the men "would
not have worked in the trenches with the same zeal, believing it
unnecessary, as they did after their failure, to carry the enemy's works."

On the north side of the city overlooking the river, were the powerful
batteries on Fort Hill, a deadly menace to the Federal troops, and Grant
and Sherman believed that if enfiladed by the gunboats this position could
be carried. At their request Admiral Porter sent the _Cincinnati_ on May
27th to engage the Confederate guns, while four vessels below the town did
the same to the lower defenses. In half an hour five of the
_Cincinnati's_ guns were disabled; and she was in a sinking condition. She
was run toward the shore and sank in three fathoms of water.

The army now settled down to a wearisome siege. For six weeks, they
encircled the city with trenches, approaching nearer and nearer to the
defending walls; they exploded mines; they shot at every head that
appeared above the parapets. One by one the defending batteries were
silenced. The sappers slowly worked their way toward the Confederate
ramparts. Miners were busy on both sides burrowing beneath the
fortifications. At three o'clock on the afternoon of June 25th a redoubt
in the Confederate works was blown into the air, breaking into millions of
fragments and disclosing guns, men, and timber. With the mine explosion,
the Federal soldiers before the redoubt began to dash into the opening,
only to meet with a withering fire from an interior parapet which the
Confederates had constructed in anticipation of this event. The carnage
was appalling to behold; and when the soldiers of the Union finally
retired they had learned a costly lesson which withheld them from attack
when another mine was exploded on July 1st.

Meantime, let us take a view of the river below and the life of the people
within the doomed city. Far down the river, two hundred and fifty miles
from Vicksburg, was Port Hudson. The place was fortified and held by a
Confederate force under General Gardner. Like Vicksburg, it was besieged
by a Federal army, under Nathaniel P. Banks, of Cedar Mountain fame. On
May 27th, he made a desperate attack on the works and was powerfully aided
by Farragut with his fleet in the river. But aside from dismounting a few
guns and weakening the foe at a still heavier cost to their own ranks, the
Federals were unsuccessful. Again, on June 10th, and still again on the
14th, Banks made fruitless attempts to carry Port Hudson by storm. He
then, like Grant at Vicksburg, settled down to a siege. The defenders of
Port Hudson proved their courage by enduring every hardship.

At Vicksburg, during the whole six weeks of the siege, the men in the
trenches worked steadily, advancing the coils about the city. Grant
received reënforcement and before the end of the siege his army numbered
over seventy thousand. Day and night, the roar of artillery continued.
From the mortars across the river and from Porter's fleet the shrieking
shells rose in grand parabolic curves, bursting in midair or in the
streets of the city, spreading havoc in all directions. The people of the
city burrowed into the ground for safety. Many whole families lived in
these dismal abodes, their walls of clay being shaken by the roaring
battles that raged above the ground. In one of these dens, sixty-five
people found a home. The food supply ran low, and day by day it became
scarcer. At last, by the end of June, there was nothing to eat except mule
meat and a kind of bread made of beans and corn meal.

It was ten o'clock in the morning of July 3d. White flags were seen above
the parapet. The firing ceased. A strange quietness rested over the scene
of the long bombardment. On the afternoon of that day, the one, too, on
which was heard the last shot on the battlefield of Gettysburg, Grant and
Pemberton stood beneath an oak tree, in front of McPherson's corps, and
opened negotiations for the capitulation. On the following morning, the
Nation's birthday, about thirty thousand soldiers laid down their arms as
prisoners of war and were released on parole. The losses from May 1st to
the surrender were about ten thousand on each side.

Three days later, at Port Hudson, a tremendous cheer arose from the
besieging army. The Confederates within the defenses were at a loss to
know the cause. Then some one shouted the news, "Vicksburg has

The end had come. Port Hudson could not hope to stand alone; the greater
fortress had fallen. Two days later, July 9th, the gallant garrison, worn
and weary with the long siege, surrendered to General Banks. The whole
course of the mighty Mississippi was now under the Stars and Stripes.

[Illustration: BEFORE VICKSBURG]

The close-set mouth, squared shoulders and lowering brow in this
photograph of Grant, taken in December, 1862, tell the story of the
intensity of his purpose while he was advancing upon Vicksburg--only to be
foiled by Van Dorn's raid on his line of communications at Holly Springs.
His grim expression and determined jaw betokened no respite for the
Confederates, however. Six months later he marched into the coveted
stronghold. This photograph was taken by James Mullen at Oxford,
Mississippi, in December, 1862, just before Van Dorn's raid balked the
general's plans.

[Illustration: AFTER VICKSBURG]

This photograph was taken in the fall of 1863, after the capture of the
Confederacy's Gibraltar had raised Grant to secure and everlasting fame.
His attitude is relaxed and his eyebrows no longer mark a straight line
across the grim visage. The right brow is slightly arched with an almost
jovial expression. But the jaw is no less vigorous and determined, and the
steadfast eyes seem to be peering into that future which holds more
victories. He still has Chattanooga and his great campaigns in the East to
fight and the final magnificent struggle in the trenches at Petersburg.



The Courthouse at Oxford, Mississippi. The second attempt to capture
Vicksburg originated with Grant. Since he had sprung into fame at Fort
Donelson early in 1862, he had done little to strengthen his reputation;
but to all urgings of his removal Lincoln replied: "I can't spare this
man; he fights." He proposed to push southward through Mississippi to
seize Jackson, the capital. If this could be accomplished, Vicksburg
(fifty miles to the west) would become untenable. At Washington his plan
was overruled to the extent of dividing his forces. Sherman, with a
separate expedition, was to move from Memphis down the Mississippi
directly against Vicksburg. It was Grant's hope that by marching on he
could unite with Sherman in an assault upon this key to the Mississippi.
Pushing forward from Grand Junction, sixty miles, Grant reached Oxford
December 5, 1862, but his supplies were still drawn from Columbus,
Kentucky, over a single-track road to Holly Springs, and thence by wagon
over roads which were rapidly becoming impassable. Delay ensued in which
Van Dorn destroyed Federal stores at Holly Springs worth $1,500,000. This
put an end to Grant's advance. In the picture we see an Illinois regiment
guarding some of the 1200 Confederate prisoners taken during the advance
and here confined in the Courthouse.



The Battle-field of Champion's Hill. Here on May 16, 1863, Grant crowned
his daring maneuver against Vicksburg from the south with complete
success. Once across the river below Grand Gulf, after an easy victory at
Port Gibson, he was joined by Sherman. The army struck out across the
strange country south of the Big Black River and soon had driven
Pemberton's southern outposts across that stream. Grant was now on solid
ground; he had successfully turned the flank of the Confederates and he
grasped the opportunity to strike a telling blow. Pressing forward to
Raymond and Jackson, he captured both, and swept westward to meet the
astounded Pemberton, still vacillating between attempting a junction with
Johnston or attacking Grant in the rear. But Grant, moving with wonderful
precision, prevented either movement. On May 16th a battle ensued which
was most decisive around Champion's Hill. Pemberton was routed and put to
flight, and on the next day the Federals seized the crossings of the Big
Black River. Spiking their guns at Haynes' Bluff, the Confederates retired
into Vicksburg, never to come out again except as prisoners. In eighteen
days from the time he crossed the Mississippi, Grant had gained the
advantage for which the Federals had striven for more than a year at





The pursuit of Pemberton's army brought McClernand's Corps to the defenses
of the Big Black River Bridge early on May 17, 1863. McPherson was close
behind. McClernand's division carried the defenses and Bowen and Vaughn's
men fled with precipitate haste over the dreary swamp to the river and
crossed over and burned the railroad and other bridges just in time to
prevent McClernand from following. The necessary delay was aggravating to
Grant's forces. The rest of the day and night was consumed in building
bridges. Sherman had the only pontoon-train with the army and his bridge
was the first ready at Bridgeport, early in the evening.

[Illustration: Vicksburg, taken under fire.



The handwriting is that of Surgeon Bixby, of the Union hospital ship "Red
Rover." In his album he pasted this unique photograph from the western
shore of the river where the Federal guns and mortars threw a thousand
shells into Vicksburg during the siege. The prominent building is the
courthouse, the chief landmark during the investment. Here at Vicksburg
the Confederates were making their last brave stand for the possession of
the Mississippi River, that great artery of traffic. If it were wrested
from them the main source of their supplies would be cut off. Pemberton, a
brave and capable officer and a Pennsylvanian by birth, worked
unremittingly for the cause he had espoused. Warned by the early attacks
of General Williams and Admiral Farragut, he had left no stone unturned to
render Vicksburg strongly defended. It had proved impregnable to attack on
the north and east, and the powerful batteries planted on the river-front
could not be silenced by the fleet nor by the guns of the Federals on the
opposite shore. But Grant's masterful maneuver of cutting loose from his
base and advancing from the south had at last out-generaled both Pemberton
and Johnston. Nevertheless, Pemberton stoutly held his defenses. His high
river-battery is photographed below, as it frowned upon the Federals




Behind these fortifications Pemberton, driven from the Big Black River,
gathered his twenty-one thousand troops to make the last stand for the
saving of the Mississippi to the Confederacy. In the upper picture we see
Fort Castle, one of the strongest defenses of the Confederacy. It had full
sweep of the river; here "Whistling Dick" (one of the most powerful guns
in possession of the South) did deadly work. In the lower picture we see
the fortifications to the east of the town, before which Grant's army was
now entrenching. When Vicksburg had first been threatened in 1862, the
Confederate fortifications had been laid out and work begun on them in
haste with but five hundred spades, many of the soldiers delving with
their bayonets. The sites were so well chosen and the work so well done
that they had withstood attacks for a year. They were to hold out still
longer. By May 18th the Federals had completely invested Vicksburg, and
Grant and Sherman rode out to Haynes' Bluff to view the open river to the
north, down which abundant supplies were now coming for the army. Sherman,
who had not believed that the plan could succeed, frankly acknowledged his
mistake. But the Mississippi was not yet theirs. Sherman, assaulting the
fortifications of Vicksburg, the next day, was repulsed. A second attack,
on the 22d, failed and on the 25th Grant settled down to starve Pemberton




Battery Sherman, on the Jackson Road, before Vicksburg. Settling down to a
siege did not mean idleness for Grant's army. Fortifications had to be
opposed to the formidable one of the Confederates and a constant
bombardment kept up to silence their guns, one by one. It was to be a
drawn-out duel in which Pemberton, hoping for the long-delayed relief from
Johnston, held out bravely against starvation and even mutiny. For twelve
miles the Federal lines stretched around Vicksburg, investing it to the
river bank, north and south. More than eighty-nine battery positions were
constructed by the Federals. Battery Sherman was exceptionally well
built--not merely revetted with rails or cotton-bales and floored with
rough timber, as lack of proper material often made necessary. Gradually
the lines were drawn closer and closer as the Federals moved up their guns
to silence the works that they had failed to take in May. At the time of
the surrender Grant had more than 220 guns in position, mostly of heavy
caliber. By the 1st of July besieged and besiegers faced each other at a
distance of half-pistol shot. Starving and ravaged by disease, the
Confederates had repelled repeated attacks which depleted their forces,
while Grant, reënforced to three times their number, was showered with
supplies and ammunition that he might bring about the long-delayed victory
which the North had been eagerly awaiting since Chancellorsville.



Logan's Division undermining the most formidable redoubt in the defenses
of Vicksburg. The position was immediately in front of this honeycombed
slope on the Jackson road. Upon these troops fell most of the labor of
sapping and mining, which finally resulted in the wrecking of the fort so
gallantly defended by the veterans of the Third Louisiana. As the Federal
lines crept up, the men working night and day were forced to live in
burrows. They became proficient in such gopher work as the picture shows.
Up to the "White House" (Shirley's) the troops could be marched in
comparative safety, but a short distance beyond they were exposed to the
Confederate sharpshooters, who had only rifles and muskets to depend on;
their artillery had long since been silenced. Near this house was
constructed "Coonskin's" Tower; it was built of railway iron and
cross-ties under the direction of Second Lieutenant Henry C. Foster, of
Company B, Twenty-third Indiana. A backwoodsman and dead-shot, he was
particularly active in paying the Confederate sharpshooters in their own
coin. He habitually wore a cap of raccoon fur, which gave him his nickname
and christened the tower, from which the interior of the Confederate works
could be seen.


Independence Day, 1863, was a memorable anniversary of the nation's birth;
it brought to the anxious North the momentous news that Meade had won at
Gettysburg and that Vicksburg had fallen in the West. The marble shaft in
the picture was erected to mark the spot where Grant and Pemberton met on
July 3d to confer about the surrender. Under a tree, within a few hundred
feet of the Confederate lines, Grant greeted his adversary as an old
acquaintance. They had fought in the same division for a time in the
Mexican War. Each spoke but two sentences as to the surrender, for Grant
lived up to the nickname he gained at Donelson, and Pemberton's pride was
hurt. The former comrades walked and talked awhile on other things, and
then returned to their lines. Next day the final terms were arranged by
correspondence, and the Confederates marched out with colors flying; they
stacked their arms and, laying their colors upon them, marched back into
the city to be paroled. Those who signed the papers not to fight until
exchanged numbered 29,391. The tree where the commanders met was soon
carried away, root and branch, by relic-hunters. Subsequently the monument
which replaced it was chipped gradually into bits, and in 1866 a
64-pounder cannon took its place as a permanent memorial.




In the picture the "Silver Lake" is lying off Vicksburg after its fall.
While Admiral Porter was busy attacking Vicksburg with the Mississippi
squadron, Lieutenant-Commander Le Roy Fitch, with a few small gunboats,
was actively patrolling the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers. It was soon
seen that the hold upon Tennessee and Kentucky gained by the Federals by
the fall of Forts Henry and Donelson would be lost without adequate
assistance from the navy, and Admiral Porter was authorized to purchase
small light-draft river steamers and add them to Fitch's flotilla as
rapidly as they could be converted into gunboats. One of the first to be
completed was the "Silver Lake." The little stern-wheel steamer first
distinguished herself on February 3, 1863, at Dover, Tennessee, where she
(with Fitch's flotilla) assisted in routing 4,500 Confederates, who were
attacking the Federals at that place. The little vessel continued to
render yeoman's service with the other gunboats, ably assisted by General
A. W. Ellet's marine brigade.




The Levee at Vicksburg, February, 1864. For seven months the Federals had
been in possession of the city, and the Mississippi--now open through its
entire course--cut off the struggling Confederacy in the East from the
South and Southwest, the storehouses of their resources and their main
dependence in continuing the struggle. But even such a blow as this,
coming on top of Gettysburg, did not force the brave people of the South
to give up the struggle. In the picture the only remaining warlike signs
are the tents on the opposite shore. But on both sides of the river the
Confederates were still desperately striving to reunite their territory.
In the East another year and more of the hardest kind of fighting was
ahead; another severing in twain of the South was inevitable before peace
could come, and before the muskets could be used to shoot the crows, and
before their horses could plough the neglected fields.


These fortifications withstood every attack of Banks' powerful army from
May 24 to July 9, 1863. Like Vicksburg, Port Hudson could be reduced only
by a weary siege. These pictures, taken within the fortifications, show in
the distance the ground over which the investing army approached to the
two unsuccessful grand assaults they made upon the Confederate defenders.
The strength of the works is apparent. A continuous line of parapet,
equally strong, had been thrown up for the defense of Port Hudson,
surrounding the town for a distance of three miles and more, each end
terminating on the riverbank. Four powerful forts were located at the
salients, and the line throughout was defended by thirty pieces of field
artillery. Brigadier-General Beall, who commanded the post in 1862,
constructed these works. Major-General Frank Gardner succeeded him in
command at the close of the year.



Gardner was behind these defenses with a garrison of about seven thousand
when Banks approached Port Hudson for the second time on May 24th. Gardner
was under orders to evacuate the place and join his force to that of
Johnston at Jackson, Mississippi, but the courier who brought the order
arrived at the very hour when Banks began to bottle up the Confederates.
On the morning of May 25th Banks drove in the Confederate skirmishers and
outposts and, with an army of thirty thousand, invested the fortifications
from the eastward. At 10 A.M., after an artillery duel of more than four
hours, the Federals advanced to the assault of the works. Fighting in a
dense forest of magnolias, amid thick undergrowth and among ravines choked
with felled timber, the progress of the troops was too slow for a telling
attack. The battle has been described as "a gigantic bushwhack." The
Federals at the center reached the ditch in front of the Confederate works
but were driven off. At nightfall the attempt was abandoned. It had cost
Banks nearly two thousand men.


A "Quaker gun" that was mounted by the Confederates in the fortifications
on the bluff at the river-front before Port Hudson. This gun was hewn out
of a pine log and mounted on a carriage, and a black ring was painted
around the end facing the river. Throughout the siege it was mistaken by
the Federals for a piece of real ordnance. To such devices as this the
beleaguered garrison was compelled constantly to resort in order to
impress the superior forces investing Port Hudson with the idea that the
position they sought to capture was formidably defended. The ruse was
effective. Port Hudson was not again attacked from the river after the
passing of Farragut's two ships.

[Illustration: WITHIN "THE CITADEL"



This bastion fort, near the left of the Confederate line of defenses at
Port Hudson, was the strongest of their works, and here Weitzel and
Grover's divisions of the Federals followed up the attack (begun at
daylight of June 14th) that Banks had ordered all along the line in his
second effort to capture the position. The only result was simply to
advance the Federal lines from fifty to two hundred yards nearer. In front
of the "citadel" an advance position was gained from which a mine was
subsequently run to within a few yards of the fort.





The clearest and most trustworthy evidence of an opponent's strength is of
course an actual photograph. Such evidence, in spite of the early stage of
the art and the difficulty of "running in" chemical supplies on "orders to
trade," was supplied the Confederate leaders in the Southwest by Lytle,
the Baton Rouge photographer--really a member of the Confederate secret
service. Here are photographs of the First Indiana Heavy Artillery
(formerly the Twenty-first Indiana Infantry), showing its strength and
position on the arsenal grounds at Baton Rouge. As the Twenty-first
Indiana, the regiment had been at Baton Rouge during the first Federal
occupation, and after the fall of Port Hudson it returned there for
garrison duty. Little did its officers suspect that the quiet man
photographing the batteries at drill was about to convey the "information"
beyond their lines to their opponents.




In the fight with the batteries at Port Hudson, March 14, 1863, Farragut,
in the "Hartford" lashed to the "Albatross," got by, but the fine old
consort of the "Hartford," the "Mississippi," went down--her gunners
fighting to the last. Farragut, in anguish, could see her enveloped in
flames lighting up the river. She had grounded under the very guns of a
battery, and not until actually driven off by the flames did her men
leave her. When the "Mississippi" grounded, the shock threw her
lieutenant-commander into the river, and in confusion he swam toward the
shore; then, turning about, he swam back to his ship. Captain Smith thus
writes in his report: "I consider that I should be neglecting a most
important duty should I omit to mention the coolness of my executive
officer, Mr. Dewey, and the steady, fearless, and gallant manner in which
the officers and men of the 'Mississippi' defended her, and the orderly
and quiet manner in which she was abandoned after being thirty-five
minutes aground under the fire of the enemy's batteries. There was no
confusion in embarking the crew, and the only noise was from the enemy's
cannon." Lieutenant-Commander George Dewey, here mentioned at the age of
26, was to exemplify in Manila Bay on May 1, 1898, the lessons he was
learning from Farragut.



_Painted by C. D. Graves._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]




The most important American address is brief: "Fourscore and seven years
ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in
liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or
any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a
great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that
field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that
that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should
do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate,
we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who
struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or
detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here,
but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living,
rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought
here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here
dedicated to the great task remaining before us;--that from these honored
dead, we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the
last full measure of devotion;--that we here highly resolve that these
dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have
a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people,
for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, PATRIOT PUB. CO.]


The military operations of the American Civil War were carried on for the
most part south of the Mason and Dixon line; but the greatest and most
famous of the battles was fought on the soil of the old Keystone State,
which had given birth to the Declaration of Independence and to the
Constitution of the United States.

Gettysburg is a quiet hamlet, nestling among the hills of Adams County,
and in 1863 contained about fifteen hundred inhabitants. It had been
founded in 1780 by James Gettys, who probably never dreamed that his name
thus given to the village would, through apparently accidental
circumstances, become famous in history for all time.

The hills immediately around Gettysburg are not rugged or precipitous;
they are little more than gentle swells of ground, and many of them were
covered with timber when the hosts of the North and the legions of the
South fought out the destiny of the American republic on those memorable
July days in 1863.

Lee's army was flushed with victory after Chancellorsville and was
strengthened by the memory of Fredericksburg. Southern hopes were high
after Hooker's defeat on the Rappahannock, in May, 1863, and public
opinion was unanimous in demanding an invasion of Northern soil. On the
other hand, the Army of the Potomac, under its several leaders, had met
with continual discouragement, and, with all its patriotism and valor, its
two years' warfare showed but few bright pages to cheer the heart of the
war-broken soldier, and to inspire the hopes of the anxious public in the

Leaving General Stuart with ten thousand cavalry and a part of Hill's
corps to prevent Hooker from pursuing, Lee crossed the Potomac early in
June, 1863, concentrated his army at Hagerstown, Maryland, and prepared
for a campaign in Pennsylvania, with Harrisburg as the objective. His army
was organized in three corps, under the respective commands of Longstreet,
Ewell, and A. P. Hill. Lee had divided his army so as to approach
Harrisburg by different routes and to assess the towns along the way for
large sums of money. Late in June, he was startled by the intelligence
that Stuart had failed to detain Hooker, and that the Federals had crossed
the Potomac and were in hot pursuit.

Lee was quick to see that his plans must be changed. He knew that to
continue his march he must keep his army together to watch his pursuing
antagonist, and that such a course in this hostile country would mean
starvation, while the willing hands of the surrounding populace would
minister to the wants of his foe. Again, if he should scatter his forces
that they might secure the necessary supplies, the parts would be attacked
singly and destroyed. Lee saw, therefore, that he must abandon his
invasion of the North or turn upon his pursuing foe and disable him in
order to continue his march. But that foe was a giant of strength and
courage, more than equal to his own; and the coming together of two such
forces in a mighty death-struggle meant that a great battle must be
fought, a greater battle than this Western world had hitherto known.

The Army of the Potomac had again changed leaders, and George Gordon Meade
was now its commander. Hooker, after a dispute with Halleck, resigned his
leadership, and Meade, the strongest of the corps commanders, was
appointed in his place, succeeding him on June 28th. The two great
armies--Union and Confederate--were scattered over portions of Maryland
and southern Pennsylvania. Both were marching northward, along almost
parallel lines. The Confederates were gradually pressing toward the east,
while the Federals were marching along a line eastward of that followed by
the Confederates. The new commander of the Army of the Potomac was keeping
his forces interposed between the legions of Lee and the Federal capital,
and watching for an opportunity to force the Confederates to battle where
the Federals would have the advantage of position. It was plain that they
must soon come together in a gigantic contest; but just where the shock of
battle would take place was yet unknown. Meade had ordered a general
movement toward Harrisburg, and General Buford was sent with four thousand
cavalry to intercept the Confederate advance guard.

On the night of June 30th Buford encamped on a low hill, a mile west of
Gettysburg, and here on the following morning the famous battle had its

On the morning of July 1st the two armies were still scattered, the
extremes being forty miles apart. But General Reynolds, with two corps of
the Union army, was but a few miles away, and was hastening to Gettysburg,
while Longstreet and Hill were approaching from the west. Buford opened
the battle against Heth's division of Hill's corps. Reynolds soon joined
Buford, and three hours before noon the battle was in progress on Seminary
Ridge. Reynolds rode out to his fighting-lines on the ridge, and while
placing his troops, a little after ten o'clock in the morning, he received
a sharpshooter's bullet in the brain. The gallant Federal leader fell
dead. John F. Reynolds, who had been promoted for gallantry at Buena Vista
in the Mexican War, was one of the bravest and ablest generals of the
Union army. No casualty of the war brought more widespread mourning to the
North than the death of Reynolds.

But even this calamity could not stay the fury of the battle. By one
o'clock both sides had been greatly reënforced, and the battle-line
extended north of the town from Seminary Ridge to the bank of Rock Creek.
Here for hours the roar of the battle was unceasing. About the middle of
the afternoon a breeze lifted the smoke that had enveloped the whole
battle-line in darkness, and revealed the fact that the Federals were
being pressed back toward Gettysburg. General Carl Schurz, who after
Reynolds' death directed the extreme right near Rock Creek, leaving nearly
half of his men dead or wounded on the field, retreated toward Cemetery
Hill, and in passing through the town the Confederates pursued and
captured a large number of the remainder. The left wing, now unable to
hold its position owing to the retreat of the right, was also forced back,
and it, too, took refuge on Cemetery Hill, which had been selected by
General O. O. Howard; and the first day's fight was over. It was several
hours before night, and had the Southerners known of the disorganized
condition of the Union troops, they might have pursued and captured a
large part of the army. Meade, who was still some miles from the field,
hearing of the death of Reynolds, had sent Hancock to take general command
until he himself should arrive.

Hancock had ridden at full speed and arrived on the field between three
and four o'clock in the afternoon. His presence soon brought order out of
chaos. His superb bearing, his air of confidence, his promise of heavy
reënforcements during the night, all tended to inspire confidence and to
renew hope in the ranks of the discouraged army. Had this day ended the
affair at Gettysburg, the usual story of the defeat of the Army of the
Potomac would have gone forth to the world. Only the advance portions of
both armies had been engaged; and yet the battle had been a formidable
one. The Union loss was severe. A great commander had fallen, and the rank
and file had suffered the fearful loss of ten thousand men.

Meade reached the scene late in the night, and chose to make this field,
on which the advance of both armies had accidentally met, the place of a
general engagement. Lee had come to the same decision, and both called on
their outlying legions to make all possible speed to Gettysburg. Before
morning, nearly all the troops of both armies had reached the field. The
Union army rested with its center on Cemetery Ridge, with its right thrown
around to Culp's Hill and its left extended southward toward the rocky
peak called Round Top. The Confederate army, with its center on Seminary
Ridge, its wings extending from beyond Rock Creek on the north to a point
opposite Round Top on the south, lay in a great semi-circle, half
surrounding the Army of the Potomac. But Lee was at a disadvantage. First,
"Stonewall" Jackson was gone, and second, Stuart was absent with his ten
thousand cavalry. Furthermore, Meade was on the defensive, and had the
advantage of occupying the inner ring of the huge half circle. Thus lay
the two mighty hosts, awaiting the morning, and the carnage that the day
was to bring. It seemed that the fate of the Republic was here to be
decided, and the people of the North and the South watched with breathless
eagerness for the decision about to be made at Gettysburg.

The dawn of July 2d betokened a beautiful summer day in southern
Pennsylvania. The hours of the night had been spent by the two armies in
marshaling of battalions and maneuvering of corps and divisions, getting
into position for the mighty combat of the coming day. But, when morning
dawned, both armies hesitated, as if unwilling to begin the task of
bloodshed. They remained inactive, except for a stray shot here and there,
until nearly four o'clock in the afternoon.

The fighting on this second day was chiefly confined to the two extremes,
the centers remaining comparatively inactive. Longstreet commanded the
Confederate right, and opposite him on the Union left was General Daniel
E. Sickles. The Confederate left wing, under Ewell, was opposite Slocum
and the Union right stationed on Culp's Hill.

The plan of General Meade had been to have the corps commanded by General
Sickles connect with that of Hancock and extend southward near the base of
the Round Tops. Sickles found this ground low and disadvantageous as a
fighting-place. In his front he saw the high ground along the ridge on the
side of which the peach orchard was situated, and advanced his men to this
position, placing them along the Emmitsburg road, and back toward the
Trostle farm and the wheat-field, thus forming an angle at the peach
orchard. The left flank of Hancock's line now rested far behind the right
flank of Sickles' forces. The Third Corps was alone in its position in
advance of the Federal line. The Confederate troops later marched along
Sickles' front so that Longstreet's corps overlapped the left wing of the
Union army. The Northerners grimly watched the bristling cannon and the
files of men that faced them across the valley, as they waited for the
battle to commence.

The boom of cannon from Longstreet's batteries announced the beginning of
the second day's battle. Lee had ordered Longstreet to attack Sickles in
full force. The fire was quickly answered by the Union troops, and before
long the fight extended from the peach orchard through the wheatfield and
along the whole line to the base of Little Round Top. The musketry
commenced with stray volleys here and there--then more and faster, until
there was one continuous roar, and no ear could distinguish one shot from
another. Longstreet swept forward in a magnificent line of battle, a mile
and a half long. He pressed back the Union infantry, and was seriously
threatening the artillery.

At the extreme left, close to the Trostle house, Captain John Bigelow
commanded the Ninth Battery, Massachusetts Light Artillery. He was ordered
to hold his position at all hazards until reënforced. With double charges
of grape and canister, again and again he tore great gaps in the advancing
line, but it re-formed and pressed onward until the men in gray reached
the muzzles of the Federal guns. Again Bigelow fired, but the heroic band
had at last to give way to the increased numbers of the attack, which
finally resulted in a hand-to-hand struggle with a Mississippi regiment.
Bigelow was wounded, and twenty-eight of his hundred and four men were
left on the bloody field, while he lost sixty-five out of eighty-eight
horses, and four of six guns. Such was one of many deeds of heroism
enacted at Gettysburg.

But the most desperate struggle of the day was the fight for the
possession of Little Round Top. Just before the action began General Meade
sent his chief engineer, General G. K. Warren, to examine conditions on
the Union left. The battle was raging in the peach orchard when he came to
Little Round Top. It was unoccupied at the time, and Warren quickly saw
the great importance of preventing its occupation by the Confederates, for
the hill was the key to the whole battle-ground west and south of Cemetery
Ridge. Before long, the engineer saw Hood's division of Longstreet's corps
moving steadily toward the hill, evidently determined to occupy it. Had
Hood succeeded, the result would have been most disastrous to the Union
army, for the Confederates could then have subjected the entire Union
lines on the western edge of Cemetery Ridge to an enfilading fire. Warren
and a signal officer seized flags and waved them, to deceive the
Confederates as to the occupation of the height. Sykes' corps, marching to
the support of the left, soon came along, and Warren, dashing down the
side of the hill to meet it, caused the brigade under Colonel Vincent and
a part of that under General Weed to be detached, and these occupied the
coveted position. Hazlett's battery was dragged by hand up the rugged
slope and planted on the summit.

Meantime Hood's forces had come up the hill, and were striving at the very
summit; and now occurred one of the most desperate hand-to-hand conflicts
of the war--in which men forgot that they were human and tore at each
other like wild beasts. The opposing forces, not having time to reload,
charged each other with bayonets--men assaulted each other with clubbed
muskets--the Blue and the Gray grappled in mortal combat and fell dead,
side by side. The privates in the front ranks fought their way onward
until they fell, the officers sprang forward, seized the muskets from the
hands of the dying and the dead, and continued the combat. The furious
struggle continued for half an hour, when Hood's forces gave way and were
pressed down the hillside. But they rallied and advanced again by way of a
ravine on the left, and finally, after a most valiant charge, were driven
back at the point of the bayonet.

Little Round Top was saved to the Union army, but the cost was appalling.
The hill was covered with hundreds of the slain. Scores of the Confederate
sharpshooters had taken position among the crevasses in the Devil's Den,
where they could overlook the position on Little Round Top, and their
unerring aim spread death among the Federal officers and gunners. Colonel
O'Rourke and General Vincent were dead. General Weed was dying; and, as
Hazlett was stooping to receive Weed's last message, a sharpshooter's
bullet laid him--dead--across the body of his chief.

During this attack, and for some hours thereafter, the battle continued in
the valley below on a grander scale and with demon-like fury. Here many
thousands were engaged. Sickles' whole line was pressed back to the base
of the hill from which it had advanced in the morning. Sickles' leg was
shattered by a shell, necessitating amputation, while scores of his brave
officers, and thousands of his men, lay on the field of battle when the
struggle ceased at nightfall. This valley has been appropriately named the
"Valley of Death."

Before the close of this main part of the second day's battle, there was
another clash of arms, fierce but of short duration, at the other extreme
of the line. Lee had ordered Ewell to attack Cemetery Hill and Culp's Hill
on the north, held by Slocum, who had been weakened by the sending of a
large portion of the Twelfth Corps to the assistance of the left wing.
Ewell had three divisions, two of which were commanded by Generals Early
and Johnson. It was nearly sunset when he sent Early to attack Cemetery
Hill. Early was repulsed after an hour's bloody and desperate hand-to-hand
fight, in which muskets and bayonets, rammers, clubs, and stones were
used. Johnson's attack on Culp's Hill was more successful. After a severe
struggle of two or three hours General Greene, who alone of the Twelfth
Corps remained on the right, succeeded, after reënforcement, in driving
the right of Johnson's division away from its entrenchments, but the left
had no difficulty in taking possession of the abandoned works of Geary and
Ruger, now gone to Round Top and Rock Creek to assist the left wing.

Thus closed the second day's battle at Gettysburg. The harvest of death
had been frightful. The Union loss during the two days had exceeded twenty
thousand men; the Confederate loss was nearly equal. The Confederate army
had gained an apparent advantage in penetrating the Union breastworks on
Culp's Hill. But the Union lines, except on Culp's Hill, were unbroken. On
the night of July 2d, Lee and his generals held a council of war and
decided to make a grand final assault on Meade's center the following day.
Against this decision Longstreet protested in vain. His counsel was that
Lee withdraw to the mountains, compel Meade to follow, and then turn and
attack him. But Lee was encouraged by the arrival of Pickett's division
and of Stuart's cavalry, and Longstreet's objections were overruled. Meade
and his corps commanders had met and made a like decision--that there
should be a fight to the death at Gettysburg.

That night a brilliant July moon shed its luster upon the ghastly field on
which thousands of men lay, unable to rise. Many of them no longer needed
help. Their last battle was over, and their spirits had fled to the great
Beyond. But there were great numbers, torn and gashed with shot and shell,
who were still alive and calling for water or for the kindly touch of a
helping hand. Nor did they call wholly in vain. Here and there in the
moonlight little rescuing parties were seeking out whom they might succor.
They carried many to the improvised hospitals, where the surgeons worked
unceasingly and heroically, and many lives were saved.

All through the night the Confederates were massing artillery along the
crest of Seminary Ridge. The sound horses were carefully fed and watered,
while those killed or disabled were replaced by others. The ammunition was
replenished and the guns were placed in favorable positions and made ready
for their work of destruction.

On the other side, the Federals were diligently laboring in the moonlight,
and ere the coming of the day they had planted batteries on the brow of
the hill above the town as far as Little Round Top. The coming of the
morning revealed the two parallel lines of cannon, a mile apart, which
signified only too well the story of what the day would bring forth.

The people of Gettysburg, which lay almost between the armies, were
awakened on that fateful morning--July 3, 1863--by the roar of artillery
from Culp's Hill, around the bend toward Rock Creek. This knoll in the
woods had, as we have seen, been taken by Johnson's men the night before.
When Geary and Ruger returned and found their entrenchments occupied by
the Confederates they determined to recapture them in the morning, and
began firing their guns at daybreak. Seven hours of fierce bombardment and
daring charges were required to regain them. Every rod of space was
disputed at the cost of many a brave man's life. At eleven o'clock this
portion of the Twelfth Corps was again in its old position.

But the most desperate onset of the three days' battle was yet to
come--Pickett's charge on Cemetery Ridge--preceded by the heaviest
cannonading ever heard on the American continent.

With the exception of the contest at Culp's Hill and a cavalry fight east
of Rock Creek, the forenoon of July 3d passed with only an occasional
exchange of shots at irregular intervals. At noon there was a lull, almost
a deep silence, over the whole field. It was the ominous calm that
precedes the storm. At one o'clock signal guns were fired on Seminary
Ridge, and a few moments later there was a terrific outburst from one
hundred and fifty Confederate guns, and the whole crest of the ridge, for
two miles, was a line of flame. The scene was majestic beyond description.
The scores of batteries were soon enveloped in smoke, through which the
flashes of burning powder were incessant.

The long line of Federal guns withheld their fire for some minutes, when
they burst forth, answering the thunder of those on the opposite hill. An
eye-witness declares that the whole sky seemed filled with screaming
shells, whose sharp explosions, as they burst in mid-air, with the
hurtling of the fragments, formed a running accompaniment to the deep,
tremendous roar of the guns.

Many of the Confederate shots went wild, passing over the Union army and
plowing up the earth on the other side of Cemetery Ridge. But others were
better aimed and burst among the Federal batteries, in one of which
twenty-seven out of thirty-six horses were killed in ten minutes. The
Confederate fire seemed to be concentrated upon one point between Cemetery
Ridge and Little Round Top, near a clump of scrub oaks. Here the batteries
were demolished and men and horses were slain by scores. The spot has been
called "Bloody Angle."

The Federal fire proved equally accurate and the destruction on Seminary
Ridge was appalling. For nearly two hours the hills shook with the
tremendous cannonading, when it gradually slackened and ceased. The Union
army now prepared for the more deadly charge of infantry which it felt was
sure to follow.

They had not long to wait. As the cannon smoke drifted away from between
the lines fifteen thousand of Longstreet's corps emerged in grand columns
from the wooded crest of Seminary Ridge under the command of General
Pickett on the right and General Pettigrew on the left. Longstreet had
planned the attack with a view to passing around Round Top, and gaining it
by flank and reverse attack, but Lee, when he came upon the scene a few
moments after the final orders had been given, directed the advance to be
made straight toward the Federal main position on Cemetery Ridge.

The charge was one of the most daring in warfare. The distance to the
Federal lines was a mile. For half the distance the troops marched gayly,
with flying banners and glittering bayonets. Then came the burst of
Federal cannon, and the Confederate ranks were torn with exploding shells.
Pettigrew's columns began to waver, but the lines re-formed and marched
on. When they came within musket-range, Hancock's infantry opened a
terrific fire, but the valiant band only quickened its pace and returned
the fire with volley after volley. Pettigrew's troops succumbed to the
storm. For now the lines in blue were fast converging. Federal troops from
all parts of the line now rushed to the aid of those in front of Pickett.
The batteries which had been sending shell and solid shot changed their
ammunition, and double charges of grape and canister were hurled into the
column as it bravely pressed into the sea of flame. The Confederates came
close to the Federal lines and paused to close their ranks. Each moment
the fury of the storm from the Federal guns increased.

"Forward," again rang the command along the line of the Confederate front,
and the Southerners dashed on. The first line of the Federals was driven
back. A stone wall behind them gave protection to the next Federal force.
Pickett's men rushed upon it. Riflemen rose from behind and hurled a
death-dealing volley into the Confederate ranks. A defiant cheer answered
the volley, and the Southerners placed their battle-flags on the ramparts.
General Armistead grasped the flag from the hand of a falling bearer, and
leaped upon the wall, waving it in triumph. Almost instantly he fell
among the Federal troops, mortally wounded. General Garnett, leading his
brigade, fell dead close to the Federal line. General Kemper sank,
wounded, into the arms of one of his men.

Pickett had entered a death-trap. Troops from all directions rushed upon
him. Clubbed muskets and barrel-staves now became weapons of warfare. The
Confederates began surrendering in masses and Pickett ordered a retreat.
Yet the energy of the indomitable Confederates was not spent. Several
supporting brigades moved forward, and only succumbed when they
encountered two regiments of Stannard's Vermont brigade, and the fire of
fresh batteries.

As the remnant of the gallant division returned to the works on Seminary
Ridge General Lee rode out to meet them. His demeanor was calm. His
features gave no evidence of his disappointment. With hat in hand he
greeted the men sympathetically. "It was all my fault," he said. "Now help
me to save that which remains."

The battle of Gettysburg was over. The cost in men was frightful. The
losses of the two armies reached fifty thousand, about half on either
side. More than seven thousand men had fallen dead on the field of battle.

The tide could rise no higher; from this point the ebb must begin. Not
only here, but in the West the Southern cause took a downward turn; for at
this very hour of Pickett's charge, Grant and Pemberton, a thousand miles
away, stood under an oak tree on the heights above the Mississippi and
arranged for the surrender of Vicksburg.

Lee could do nothing but lead his army back to Virginia. The Federals
pursued but feebly. The Union victory was not a very decisive one, but,
supported as it was by the fall of Vicksburg, the moral effect on the
nation and on the world was great. The period of uncertainty was ended. It
required but little prophetic vision to foresee that the Republic would
survive the dreadful shock of arms.



Major-General George Gordon Meade and Staff. Not men, but a man is what
counts in war, said Napoleon; and Lee had proved it true in many a bitter
lesson administered to the Army of the Potomac. At the end of June, 1863,
for the third time in ten months, that army had a new commander.
Promptness and caution were equally imperative in that hour. Meade's
fitness for the post was as yet undemonstrated; he had been advanced from
the command of the Fifth Corps three days before the army was to engage in
its greatest battle. Lee must be turned back from Harrisburg and
Philadelphia and kept from striking at Baltimore and Washington, and the
somewhat scattered Army of the Potomac must be concentrated. In the very
first flush of his advancement, Meade exemplified the qualities of sound
generalship that placed his name high on the list of Federal commanders.

[Illustration: ROBERT E. LEE IN 1863


It was with the gravest misgivings that Lee began his invasion of the
North in 1863. He was too wise a general not to realize that a crushing
defeat was possible. Yet, with Vicksburg already doomed, the effort to win
a decisive victory in the East was imperative in its importance.
Magnificent was the courage and fortitude of Lee's maneuvering during that
long march which was to end in failure. Hitherto he had made every one of
his veterans count for two of their antagonists, but at Gettysburg the
odds had fallen heavily against him. Jackson, his resourceful ally, was no
more. Longstreet advised strongly against giving battle, but Lee
unwaveringly made the tragic effort which sacrificed more than a third of
his splendid army.

[Illustration: HANCOCK, "THE SUPERB"


Every man in this picture was wounded at Gettysburg. Seated, is Winfield
Scott Hancock; the boy-general, Francis C. Barlow (who was struck almost
mortally), leans against the tree. The other two are General John Gibbon
and General David B. Birney. About four o'clock on the afternoon of July
1st a foam-flecked charger dashed up Cemetery Hill bearing General
Hancock. He had galloped thirteen miles to take command. Apprised of the
loss of Reynolds, his main dependence, Meade knew that only a man of vigor
and judgment could save the situation. He chose wisely, for Hancock was
one of the best all-round soldiers that the Army of the Potomac had
developed. It was he who re-formed the shattered corps and chose the
position to be held for the decisive struggle.



There was little time that could be employed by either side in caring for
those who fell upon the fields of the almost uninterrupted fighting at
Gettysburg. On the morning of the 4th, when Lee began to abandon his
position on Seminary Ridge, opposite the Federal right, both sides sent
forth ambulance and burial details to remove the wounded and bury the dead
in the torrential rain then falling. Under cover of the hazy atmosphere,
Lee was getting his whole army in motion to retreat. Many an unfinished
shallow grave, like the one above, had to be left by the Confederates. In
this lower picture some men of the Twenty-fourth Michigan infantry are
lying dead on the field of battle. This regiment--one of the units of the
Iron Brigade--left seven distinct rows of dead as it fell back from
battle-line to battle-line, on the first day. Three-fourths of its members
were struck down.


[Illustration: THE FIRST DAY'S TOLL


The lives laid down by the blue-clad soldiers in the first day's fighting
made possible the ultimate victory at Gettysburg. The stubborn resistance
of Buford's cavalry and of the First and Eleventh Corps checked the
Confederate advance for an entire day. The delay was priceless; it enabled
Meade to concentrate his army upon the heights to the south of Gettysburg,
a position which proved impregnable. To a Pennsylvanian, General John F.
Reynolds, falls the credit of the determined stand that was made that day.
Commanding the advance of the army, he promptly went to Buford's support,
bringing up his infantry and artillery to hold back the Confederates.

[Illustration: McPHERSON'S WOODS]

At the edge of these woods General Reynolds was killed by a Confederate
sharpshooter in the first vigorous contest of the day. The woods lay
between the two roads upon which the Confederates were advancing from the
west, and General Doubleday (in command of the First Corps) was ordered to
take the position so that the columns of the foe could be enfiladed by the
infantry, while contending with the artillery posted on both roads. The
Iron Brigade under General Meredith was ordered to hold the ground at all
hazards. As they charged, the troops shouted: "If we can't hold it, where
will you find the men who can?" On they swept, capturing General Archer
and many of his Confederate brigade that had entered the woods from the
other side. As Archer passed to the rear, Doubleday, who had been his
classmate at West Point, greeted him with "Good morning! I'm glad to see



All the way from McPherson's Woods back to Cemetery Hill lay the Federal
soldiers, who had contested every foot of that retreat until nightfall.
The Confederates were massing so rapidly from the west and north that
there was scant time to bring off the wounded and none for attention to
the dead. There on the field lay the shoes so much needed by the
Confederates, and the grim task of gathering them began. The dead were
stripped of arms, ammunition, caps, and accoutrements as well--in fact, of
everything that would be of the slightest use in enabling Lee's poorly
equipped army to continue the internecine strife. It was one of war's
awful expedients.


Along this road the Federals retreated toward Cemetery Hill in the late
afternoon of July 1st. The success of McPherson's Woods was but temporary,
for the Confederates under Hill were coming up in overpowering numbers,
and now Ewell's forces appeared from the north. The first Corps, under
Doubleday, "broken and defeated but not dismayed," fell back, pausing now
and again to fire a volley at the pursuing Confederates. It finally joined
the Eleventh Corps, which had also been driven back to Cemetery Hill. Lee
was on the field in time to watch the retreat of the Federals, and advised
Ewell to follow them up, but Ewell (who had lost 3,000 men) decided upon
discretion. Night fell with the beaten Federals, reinforced by the Twelfth
Corps and part of the Third, facing nearly the whole of Lee's army.

[Illustration: IN THE DEVIL'S DEN


Upon this wide, steep hill, about five hundred yards due west of Little
Round Top and one hundred feet lower, was a chasm named by the country
folk "the Devil's Den." When the position fell into the hands of the
Confederates at the end of the second day's fighting, it became the
stronghold of their sharpshooters, and well did it fulfill its name. It
was a most dangerous post to occupy, since the Federal batteries on the
Round Top were constantly shelling it in an effort to dislodge the hardy
riflemen, many of whom met the fate of the one in the picture. Their
deadly work continued, however, and many a gallant officer of the Federals
was picked off during the fighting on the afternoon of the second day.
General Vincent was one of the first victims; General Weed fell likewise;
and as Lieutenant Hazlett bent over him to catch his last words, a bullet
through the head prostrated that officer lifeless on the body of his



Little Round Top, the key to the Federal left at Gettysburg, which they
all but lost on the second day--was the scene of hand-to-hand fighting
rarely equaled since long-range weapons were invented. Twice the
Confederates in fierce conflict fought their way near to this summit, but
were repulsed. Had they gained it, they could have planted artillery which
would have enfiladed the left of Meade's line, and Gettysburg might have
been turned into an overwhelming defeat. Beginning at the right, the
Federal line stretched in the form of a fish-hook, with the barb resting
on Culp's Hill, the center at the bend in the hook on Cemetery Hill, and
the left (consisting of General Sickles' Third Corps) forming the shank to
the southward as far as Round Top. On his own responsibility Sickles had
advanced a portion of his line, leaving Little Round Top unprotected. Upon
this advanced line of Sickles, at the Peach Orchard on the Emmitsburg
road, the Confederates fell in an effort to turn what they supposed to be
Meade's left flank. Only the promptness of General Warren, who discovered
the gap and remedied it in time, saved the key.



Near this gate to the local cemetery of Gettysburg there stood during the
battle this sign: "All persons found using firearms in these grounds will
be prosecuted with the utmost rigor of the law." Many a soldier must have
smiled grimly at these words, for this gateway became the key of the
Federal line, the very center of the cruelest use of firearms yet seen on
this continent. On the first day Reynolds saw the value of Cemetery Hill
in case of a retreat. Howard posted his reserves here, and Hancock greatly
strengthened the position. One hundred and fifty Confederate guns were
turned against it that last afternoon. In five minutes every man of the
Federals had been forced to cover; for an hour and a half the shells fell
fast, dealing death and laying waste the summer verdure in the little
graveyard. Up to the very guns of the Federals on Cemetery Hill, Pickett
led his devoted troops. At night of the 3d it was one vast
slaughter-field. On this eminence, where thousands were buried, was
dedicated the soldiers' National Cemetery.


The Now-or-never Charge of Pickett's Men. When the Confederate artillery
opened at one o'clock on the afternoon of July 3d, Meade and his staff
were driven from their headquarters on Cemetery Ridge. Nothing could live
exposed on that hillside, swept by cannon that were being worked as fast
as human hands could work them. It was the beginning of Lee's last effort
to wrest victory from the odds that were against him. Longstreet, on the
morning of the 3d, had earnestly advised against renewing the battle
against the Gettysburg heights. But Lee saw that in this moment the fate
of the South hung in the balance; that if the Army of Northern Virginia
did not win, it would never again become the aggressor. Pickett's
division, as yet not engaged, was the force Lee designated for the
assault; every man was a Virginian, forming a veritable Tenth Legion in
valor. Auxiliary divisions swelled the charging column to 15,000. In the
middle of the afternoon the Federal guns ceased firing. The time for the
charge had come. Twice Pickett asked of Longstreet if he should go
forward. Longstreet merely bowed in answer. "Sir, I shall lead my division
forward," said Pickett at last, and the heavy-hearted Longstreet bowed his
head. As the splendid column swept out of the woods and across the plain
the Federal guns reopened with redoubled fury. For a mile Pickett and his
men kept on, facing a deadly greeting of round shot, canister, and the
bullets of Hancock's resolute infantry. It was magnificent--but every one
of Pickett's brigade commanders went down and their men fell by scores and
hundreds around them. A hundred led by Armistead, waving his cap on his
sword-point, actually broke through and captured a battery, Armistead
falling beside a gun. It was but for a moment. Longstreet had been right
when he said: "There never was a body of fifteen thousand men who could
make that attack successfully." Before the converging Federals the thinned
ranks of Confederates drifted wearily back toward Seminary Ridge. Victory
for the South was not to be.





The prelude to Pickett's magnificent charge was a sudden deluge of shells
from 150 long-range Confederate guns trained upon Cemetery Ridge. General
Meade and his staff were instantly driven from their headquarters (already
illustrated) and within five minutes the concentrated artillery fire had
swept every unsheltered position on Cemetery Ridge clear of men. In the
woods, a mile and a half distant, Pickett and his men watched the effect
of the bombardment, expecting the order to "Go Forward" up the slope
(shown in the picture). The Federals had instantly opened with their
eighty available guns, and for three hours the most terrific artillery
duel of the war was kept up. Then the Federal fire slackened, as though
the batteries were silenced. The Confederates' artillery ammunition also
was now low. "For God's sake, come on!" was the word to Pickett. And at
Longstreet's reluctant nod the commander led his 14,000 Virginians across
the plain in their tragic charge up Cemetery Ridge.

[Illustration: GENERAL L. A. ARMISTEAD, C. S. A.]

In that historic charge was Armistead, who achieved a momentary victory
and met a hero's death. On across the Emmitsburg road came Pickett's
dauntless brigades, coolly closing up the fearful chasms torn in their
ranks by the canister. Up to the fence held by Hays' brigade dashed the
first gray line, only to be swept into confusion by a cruel enfilading
fire. Then the brigades of Armistead and Garnett moved forward, driving
Hays' brigade back through the batteries on the crest. Despite the
death-dealing bolts on all sides, Pickett determined to capture the guns;
and, at the order, Armistead, leaping the fence and waving his cap on his
sword-point, rushed forward, followed by about a hundred of his men. Up to
the very crest they fought the Federals back, and Armistead, shouting,
"Give them the cold steel, boys!" seized one of the guns. For a moment the
Confederate flag waved triumphantly over the Federal battery. For a brief
interval the fight raged fiercely at close quarters. Armistead was shot
down beside the gun he had taken, and his men were driven back. Pickett,
as he looked around the top of the ridge he had gained, could see his men
fighting all about with clubbed muskets and even flagstaffs against the
troops that were rushing in upon them from all sides. Flesh and blood
could not hold the heights against such terrible odds, and with a heart
full of anguish Pickett ordered a retreat. The despairing Longstreet,
watching from Seminary Ridge, saw through the smoke the shattered remnants
drift sullenly down the slope and knew that Pickett's glorious but costly
charge was ended.



Headquarters of Brigadier-General Alexander S. Webb. It devolved upon the
man pictured here (booted and in full uniform, before his headquarters
tent to the left of the picture) to meet the shock of Pickett's great
charge. With four Pennsylvania regiments (the Sixty-Ninth, Seventy-First,
Seventy-Second, and One Hundred and Sixth) of Hancock's Second Corps, Webb
was equal to the emergency. Stirred to great deeds by the example of a
patriotic ancestry, he felt that upon his holding his position depended
the outcome of the day. His front had been the focus of the Confederate
artillery fire. Batteries to right and left of his line were practically
silenced. Young Lieutenant Cushing, mortally wounded, fired the last
serviceable gun and fell dead as Pickett's men came on. Cowan's First New
York Battery on the left of Cushing's used canister on the assailants at
less than ten yards. Webb at the head of the Seventy-Second Pennsylvania
fought back the on-rush, posting a line of slightly wounded in his rear.
Webb himself fell wounded but his command checked the assault till Hall's
brilliant charge turned the tide at this point.



The _beau sabreur_ of the Federal service is pictured here in his favorite
velvet suit, with General Alfred Pleasonton, who commanded the cavalry at
Gettysburg. This photograph was taken at Warrenton, Va., three months
after that battle. At the time this picture was taken, Custer was a
brigadier-general in command of the second brigade of the third division
of General Pleasonton's cavalry. General Custer's impetuosity finally cost
him his own life and the lives of his entire command at the hands of the
Sioux Indians June 25, 1876. Custer was born in 1839 and graduated at West
Point in 1861. As captain of volunteers he served with McClellan on the
Peninsula. In June, 1863, he was made brigadier-general of volunteers and
as the head of a brigade of cavalry distinguished himself at Gettysburg.
Later he served with Sheridan in the Shenandoah, won honor at Cedar Creek,
and was brevetted major-general of volunteers on October 19, 1864. Under
Sheridan he participated in the battles of Five Forks, Dinwiddie Court
House, and other important cavalry engagements of Grant's last campaign.

[Illustration: SUMTER


Searching all history for a parallel, it is impossible to find any
defenses of a beleaguered city that stood so severe a bombardment as did
this bravely defended and never conquered fortress of Sumter, in
Charleston Harbor. It is estimated that about eighty thousand projectiles
were discharged from the fleet and the marsh batteries, and yet
Charleston, with its battered water-front, was not abandoned until all
other Confederate positions along the Atlantic Coast were in Federal hands
and Sherman's triumphant army was sweeping in from the West and South. The
picture shows Sumter from the Confederate Fort Johnson. The powerful
batteries in the foreground played havoc with the Federal fleet whenever
it came down the main ship-channel to engage the forts. Protected by
almost impassable swamps, morasses, and a network of creeks to the
eastward, Fort Johnson held an almost impregnable position; and from its
protection by Cummings' Point, on which was Battery Gregg, the Federal
fleet could not approach nearer than two miles. Could it have been taken
by land assault or reduced by gun-fire, Charleston would have fallen.


These views show the result of the bombardment from August 17 to 23, 1863.
The object was to force the surrender of the fort and thus effect an
entrance into Charleston. The report of Colonel John W. Turner, Federal
chief of artillery runs: "The fire from the breaching batteries upon
Sumter was incessant, and kept up continuously from daylight till dark,
until the evening of the 23d.... The fire upon the gorge had, by the
morning of the 23d, succeeded in destroying every gun upon the parapet of
it. The parapet and ramparts of the gorge were completely demolished for
nearly the entire length of the face, and in places everything was swept
off down to the arches, the _débris_ forming an accessible ramp to the top
of the ruins. Nothing further being gained by a longer fire upon this
face, all the guns were directed this day upon the southeasterly flank,
and continued an incessant fire throughout the day. The demolition of the
fort at the close of the day's firing was complete, so far as its
offensive powers were considered." So fared Sumter.

[Illustration: SOME OF THE 450 SHOT A DAY]




This 300-pounder rifle was directed against Fort Sumter and Battery
Wagner. The length of bore of the gun before it burst was 136 inches. It
weighed 26,000 pounds. It fired a projectile weighing 250 pounds, with a
maximum charge of powder of 25 pounds. The gun was fractured at the
twenty-seventh round by a shell bursting in the muzzle, blowing off about
20 inches of the barrel. After the bursting the gun was "chipped" back
beyond the termination of the fracture and afterwards fired 371 rounds
with as good results as before the injury. At the end of that time the
muzzle began to crack again, rendering the gun entirely useless.



Battery Stevens lay just east of Battery Strong. It was begun July 27,
1863. Most of the work was done at night, for the fire from the adjacent
Confederate forts rendered work in daylight dangerous. By August 17th,
most of the guns were in position, and two days later the whole series of
batteries "on the left," as they were designated, were pounding away at
Fort Sumter.



So long as the Confederate flag flew over the ramparts of Sumter,
Charleston remained the one stronghold of the South that was firmly held.
That flag was never struck. It was lowered for an evacuation, not a
surrender. The story of Charleston's determined resistance did not end in
triumph for the South, but it did leave behind it a sunset glory, in which
the valor and dash of the Federal attack is paralleled by the heroism and
self-sacrifice of the Confederate defense, in spite of wreck and ruin.


The lower picture was taken after the war, when relic-hunters had removed
the shells, and a beacon light had been erected where once stood the
parapet. On September 8, 1863, at the very position in these photographs,
the garrison repelled a bold assault with musketry fire alone, causing the
Federals severe loss. The flag of the Confederacy floated triumphantly
over the position during the whole of the long struggle. Every effort of
the Federals to reduce the crumbling ruins into submission was unavailing.
It stood the continual bombardment of ironclads until it was nothing but a
mass of brickdust, but still the gallant garrison held it. It is strange
that despite the awful destruction the loss of lives within the fort was
few. For weeks the bombardment, assisted by the guns of the fleet, tore
great chasms in the parapet. Fort Sumter never fell, but was abandoned
only on the approach of Sherman's army. It had withstood continuous
efforts against it for 587 days. From April, 1863, to September of the
same year, the fortress was garrisoned by the First South Carolina
Artillery, enlisted as regulars. Afterward the garrison was made up of
detachments of infantry from Georgia, North Carolina, and South Carolina.
Artillerists also served turns of duty during this period.

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.]

[Illustration: RALLYING THE LINE.

_Painted by C. D. Graves._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    In its dimensions and its murderousness the battle of Chickamauga was
    the greatest battle fought by our Western armies, and one of the
    greatest of modern times. In our Civil War it was exceeded only by
    Gettysburg and the Wilderness; in European history we may compare with
    it such battles as Neerwinden, or Malplaquet, or Waterloo.--_John
    Fiske in "The Mississippi Valley in the Civil War."_

The town of Chattanooga, Tennessee, lies in a great bend of the Tennessee
River and within a vast amphitheater of mountains, ranging in a general
southwesterly direction, and traversed at intervals by great depressions
or valleys. These passes form a natural gateway from the mid-Mississippi
valley to the seaboard States. To dislodge the Confederate army under
General Bragg from this natural fortress would remove the last barrier to
the invading Federals, and permit an easy entry upon the plains of
Georgia. The importance of this position was readily apparent to the
Confederate Government, and any approach by the Federal forces toward this
point was almost certain to be met by stubborn resistance.

Rosecrans' forward movement from Murfreesboro, in the early summer of
1863, forced Bragg over the Cumberland Mountains and across the Tennessee.
The Confederate leader destroyed the railroad bridge at Bridgeport and
entrenched himself in and around Chattanooga. The three Federal corps
under Crittenden, Thomas and McCook crossed the Tennessee without meeting
resistance, and began to endanger Bragg's lines of communication. But on
September 8th, before their moves had been accomplished, Bragg abandoned
his stronghold. Crittenden the next day marched around the north end of
Lookout and entered the town, while Hazen and Wagner crossed over from the
opposite bank of the Tennessee.

Rosecrans believed that Bragg was in full retreat toward Rome, Georgia,
and Crittenden, leaving one brigade in Chattanooga, was ordered to pursue.
Bragg encouraged his adversary in the belief that he was avoiding an
engagement and sent spies as deserters into the Federal ranks to narrate
the details of his flight. Meanwhile, he was concentrating at Lafayette,
about twenty-five miles south of Chattanooga. Hither General S. B.
Buckner, entirely too weak to cope with Burnside's heavy column
approaching from Kentucky, brought his troops from Knoxville. Breckinridge
and two brigades arrived from Mississippi, while twelve thousand of Lee's
veterans, under Lee's most trusted and illustrious lieutenant, Longstreet,
were hastening from Virginia to add their numbers to Bragg's Army of

The three corps of the Union army, as we have seen, were now separated
over a wide extent of territory by intervening ridges, so intent was
Rosecrans on intercepting the vanished Bragg. But the latter, by no means
vanished, and with his face toward Chattanooga, considered the position of
his antagonist and discovered his own army almost opposite the Federal
center. Crittenden was advancing toward Ringgold, and the remoteness of
Thomas' corps on his right precluded any immediate union of the Federal

Bragg was quick to grasp the opportunity made by Rosecrans' division of
the army in the face of his opponent. He at once perceived the
possibilities of a master-stroke; to crush Thomas' advanced divisions with
an overwhelming force.

The attempt failed, owing to a delay in the attack, which permitted the
endangered Baird and Negley to fall back. Bragg then resolved to throw
himself upon Crittenden, who had divided his corps. Polk was ordered to
advance upon that portion of it at Lee and Gordon's Mills, but when Bragg
came to the front September 13th, expecting to witness the annihilation
of the Twenty-first Corps, he found to his bitter disappointment that the
bishop-general had made no move and that Crittenden had reunited his
divisions and was safe on the west bank of the Chickamauga. Thus his
splendid chances of breaking up the Army of the Cumberland were ruined.

When Bragg's position became known to Rosecrans, great was his haste to
effect the concentration of his army. Couriers dashed toward Alpine with
orders for McCook to join Thomas with the utmost celerity. The former
started at once, shortly after midnight on the 13th, in response to
Thomas's urgent call. It was a real race of life and death, attended by
the greatest hardships. Ignorant of the roads, McCook submitted his troops
to a most exhausting march, twice up and down the mountain, fifty-seven
miles of the most arduous toil, often dragging artillery up by hand and
letting it down steep declines by means of ropes. But he closed up with
Thomas on the 17th, and the Army of the Cumberland was saved from its
desperate peril.

Crittenden's corps now took position at Lee and Gordon's Mills on the left
bank of Chickamauga Creek, and the Federal troops were all within
supporting distance. In the Indian tongue Chickamauga means "The River of
Death," a name strangely prophetic of that gigantic conflict soon to be
waged by these hostile forces throughout this beautiful and heretofore
peaceful valley.

The Confederate army, its corps under Generals Polk, D. H. Hill, and
Buckner, was stationed on the east side of the stream, its right wing
below Lee and Gordon's Mills, and the left extending up the creek toward
Lafayette. On the Federal side Thomas was moved to the left, with
Crittenden in the center and McCook on the right. Their strength has been
estimated at fifty-five to sixty-nine thousand men. On the 18th,
Longstreet's troops were arriving from Virginia, and by the morning of the
19th the greater part of the Confederate army had crossed the
Chickamauga. The two mighty armies were now face to face, and none could
doubt that the impending struggle would be attended by frightful loss to
both sides.

It was Bragg's intention to send Polk, commanding the right wing, in a
flanking movement against the Federal left under Thomas, and thus
intervene between it and Chattanooga. The first encounter, at 10 o'clock
in the morning of the 19th, resulted in a Confederate repulse, but fresh
divisions were constantly pushed forward under the deadly fire of the
Federal artillery. The Federals were gradually forced back by the
incessant charge of the Confederates; but assailed and assailant fought
with such great courage and determination that any decided advantage was
withheld from either. Meanwhile, the Federal right was hard pressed by
Hood, commanding Longstreet's corps, and a desperate battle ensued along
the entire line. It seemed, however, more like a struggle between separate
divisions than the clash of two great armies. When night descended the
Federals had been forced back from the creek, but the result had been

Disaster to the Union army had been averted by the use of powerful
artillery when the infantry seemed unable to withstand the onslaught.
Rosecrans had assumed the defensive, and his troops had so far receded as
to enable the Confederates to form their lines on all the territory fought
over on that day. During the night preparations were made in both camps
for a renewal of the battle on the following morning, which was Sunday. A
fresh disposition of the troops was made by both leaders. Near midnight
General Longstreet arrived on the field, and was once placed in command of
the Confederate left, Polk retaining the right. Not all of Longstreet's
troops arrived in time for the battle, but Bragg's force has been
estimated at fifty-one to seventy-one thousand strong.

Thomas was given command of the Union left, with McCook at his right,
while Crittenden's forces occupied the center, but to the rear of both
Thomas and McCook. Thomas had spent the night in throwing up breastworks
on the brow of Snodgrass Hill, as it was anticipated that the Confederates
would concentrate their attack upon his position.

Hostilities began with a general movement of the Confederate right wing in
an attempt to flank the Union left. General Bragg had ordered Polk to
begin the attack at daybreak, but it was nearly ten o'clock in the morning
before Breckinridge's division, supported by General Cleburne, advanced
upon Thomas' entrenchments. Fighting desperately, the Confederates did not
falter under the heavy fire of the Federals, and it seemed as if the
latter must be driven from their position. Rosecrans, in response to
urgent requests for reënforcements, despatched troops again and again to
the aid of Thomas, and the assault was finally repulsed. Cleburne's
division was driven back with heavy loss, and Breckinridge, unable to
retain any advantage, was forced to defend his right, which was being
seriously menaced. The battle at this point had been desperately waged,
both sides exhibiting marked courage and determination. As on the previous
day, the Confederates had been the aggressors, but the Federal troops had
resisted all attempts to invade their breastworks.

However, the fortunes of battle were soon to incline to the side of the
Southern army. Bragg sent Stewart's division forward, and it pressed
Reynolds' and Brannan's men back to their entrenchments. Rosecrans sent
Wood word to close up on Reynolds. Through some misunderstanding in giving
or interpreting this order, General Wood withdrew his division from its
position on the right of Brannan. By this movement a large opening was
left almost in the center of the battle-line. Johnson's, Hindman's, and
Kershaw's divisions rushed into the gap and fell upon the Union right and
center with an impetus that was irresistible. The Confederate general,
Bushrod Johnson, has given us an unforgetable picture of the thrilling
event: "The resolute and impetuous charge, the rush of our heavy columns
sweeping out from the shadow and gloom of the forest into the open fields
flooded with sunlight, the glitter of arms, the onward dash of artillery
and mounted men, the retreat of the foe, the shouts of the hosts of our
army, the dust, the smoke, the noise of fire-arms--of whistling balls, and
grape-shot, and of bursting shell--made up a battle-scene of unsurpassed
grandeur. Here, General Hood gave me the last order I received from him on
the field, 'Go ahead and keep ahead of everything.'" A moment later, and
Hood fell, severely wounded, with a minie ball in his thigh.

Wood's right brigade was shattered even before it had cleared the opening.
Sheridan's entire division, and part of Davis' and Van Cleve's, were
driven from the field. Longstreet now gave a fine exhibition of his
military genius. The orders of battle were to separate the two wings of
the opposing army. But with the right wing of his opponents in hopeless
ruin, he wheeled to the right and compelled the further withdrawal of
Federal troops in order to escape being surrounded. The brave
soldier-poet, William H. Lytle, fell at the head of his brigade as he
strove to re-form his line. McCook and Crittenden were unable, in spite of
several gallant efforts, to rally their troops and keep back the onrushing
heroes of Stone's River and Bull Run. The broken mass fled in confusion
toward Chattanooga, carrying with it McCook, Crittenden, and Rosecrans.
The latter telegraphed to Washington that his army had been beaten. In
this famous charge the Confederates took several thousand prisoners and
forty pieces of artillery.

Flushed with victory, the Confederates now concentrated their attack upon
Thomas, who thus far, on Horseshoe Ridge and its spurs, had repelled all
attempts to dislodge him. The Confederates, with victory within their
grasp, and led by the indomitable Longstreet, swarmed up the slopes in
great numbers, but they were hurled back with fearful slaughter. Thomas
was looking anxiously for Sheridan, whom, as he knew, Rosecrans had
ordered with two brigades to his support. But in Longstreet's rout of the
right wing Sheridan, with the rest, had been carried on toward
Chattanooga, and he found himself completely cut off from Thomas, as the
Confederates were moving parallel to him. Yet the indomitable Sheridan, in
spite of his terrible experience of the morning, did not give up the
attempt. Foiled in his efforts to get through McFarland's Gap, he moved
quickly on Rossville and came down the Lafayette road toward Thomas' left

Meanwhile, advised by the incessant roar of musketry, General Gordon
Granger, in command of the reserve corps near Rossville, advanced rapidly
with his fresh troops. Acting with promptness and alacrity under orders,
Granger sent Steedman to Thomas' right.

Directly across the line of Thomas' right was a ridge, on which Longstreet
stationed Hindman with a large command, ready for an attack on Thomas'
flank--a further and terrible menace to the nearly exhausted general, but
it was not all. In the ridge was a small gap, and through this Kershaw was
pouring his division, intent on getting to Thomas' rear. Rosecrans thus
describes the help afforded to Thomas: "Steedman, taking a regimental
color, led the column. Swift was the charge and terrible the conflict, but
the enemy was broken."

The fighting grew fiercer, and at intervals was almost hand to hand. The
casualties among the officers, who frequently led their troops in person,
were mounting higher and higher as the moments passed. All the afternoon
the assaults continued, but the Union forces stood their ground.
Ammunition ran dangerously low, but Steedman had brought a small supply,
and when this was distributed each man had about ten rounds. Finally, as
the sun was setting in the west, the Confederate troops advanced in a
mighty concourse. The combined forces of Kershaw, Law, Preston, and
Hindman once more rushed forward, gained possession of their lost ridge at
several points, but were unable to drive their attack home. In many places
the Union lines stood firm and both sides rested in the positions taken.
The plucky Thomas was saved. The onslaught on the Federal left of the
battlefield was one of the heaviest attacks made on a single point during
the war.

History records no grander spectacle than Thomas' stand at Chickamauga. He
was ever afterwards known as "The Rock of Chickamauga." Under the cover of
darkness, Thomas, having received word from Rosecrans to withdraw, retired
his army in good order to Rossville, and on the following day rejoined
Rosecrans in Chattanooga. The battle of Chickamauga, considering the
forces engaged, was one of the most destructive of the Civil War. The
Union army lost approximately sixteen thousand men, and while the loss to
the Confederate army is not definitely known, it was probably nearly
eighteen thousand. The personal daring and tenacious courage displayed in
the ranks of both armies have never been excelled on any battlefield. The
Confederate generals, Helm, Deshler, and Preston Smith were killed; Adams,
Hood, Brown, Gregg, Clayton, Hindman, and McNair were wounded. The Federal
side lost Lytle. The battle is generally considered a Confederate victory,
and yet, aside from the terrible loss of human life, no distinct advantage
accrued to either side. The Federal army retained possession of
Chattanooga, but the Confederates had for the time checked the Army of the
Cumberland from a further occupation of Southern soil.

It is a singular coincidence that the generals-in-chief of both armies
exercised but little supervision over the movements of their respective
troops. The brunt of the battle fell, for the most part, upon the
commanders of the wings. To the subordinate generals on each side were
awarded the highest honors. Longstreet, because of his eventful charge,
which swept the right wing of the Union army from the field, was
proclaimed the victor of Chickamauga; and to General Thomas, who by his
firmness and courage withstood the combined attack of the Confederate
forces when disaster threatened on every side, is due the brightest
laurels from the adherents of the North.




Major-General Braxton Bragg, C. S. A. Born, 1815; West Point, 1837; Died,
1876. Bragg's name before 1861 was perhaps better known in military annals
than that of any other Southern leader because of his brilliant record in
the Mexican War. In the Civil War he distinguished himself first at Shiloh
and by meritorious services thereafter. But his delays rendered him
scarcely a match for Rosecrans, to say nothing of Grant and Sherman.
Flanked out of two strong positions, he missed the opportunity presented
by Rosecrans' widely separated forces and failed to crush the Army of the
Cumberland in detail, as it advanced to the battle of Chickamauga. The
error cost the Confederates the loss of Tennessee, eventually.



Major-General George Henry Thomas, Virginia-born soldier loyal to the
Union; commended for gallantry in the Seminole War, and for service in
Mexico; won the battle of Mill Spring, January 19, 1862; commanded the
right wing of the Army of the Tennessee against Corinth and at Perryville,
and the center at Stone's River. Only his stability averted overwhelming
defeat for the Federals at Chickamauga. At Lookout Mountain and Missionary
Ridge he was a host in himself. After Sherman had taken Atlanta he sent
Thomas back to Tennessee to grapple with Hood. How he crushed Hood by his
sledge-hammer blows is told in the story of "Nashville." Thomas, sitting
down in Nashville, bearing the brunt of Grant's impatience, and ignoring
completely the proddings from Washington to advance before he was ready,
while he waited grimly for the psychological moment to strike the oncoming
Confederate host under Hood, is one of the really big dramatic figures of
the entire war. It has been well said of Thomas that every promotion he
received was a reward of merit; and that during his long and varied career
as a soldier no crisis ever arose too great for his ability.



Rarely does the camera afford such a perfectly contemporaneous record of
the march of events so momentous. This photograph shows the hotel at
Stevenson, Alabama, during the Union advance that ended in Chickamauga.
Sentinels are parading the street in front of the hotel, several horses
are tied to the hotel posts, and the officers evidently have gone into the
hotel headquarters. General Alexander McDowell McCook, commanding the old
Twentieth Army Corps, took possession of the hotel as temporary
headquarters on the movement of the Army of the Cumberland from Tullahoma.
On August 29, 1863, between Stevenson and Caperton's Ferry, on the
Tennessee River, McCook gathered his boats and pontoons, hidden under the
dense foliage of overhanging trees, and when ready for his crossing
suddenly launched them into and across the river. Thence the troops
marched over Sand Mountain and at length into Lookout Valley. During the
movements the army was in extreme peril, for McCook was at one time three
days' march from Thomas, so that Bragg might have annihilated the
divisions in detail. Finally the scattered corps were concentrated along
Chickamauga Creek, where the bloody struggle of September 19th and 20th
was so bravely fought.



This solitary observer, if he was standing here September 20, 1863,
shortly before this was photographed, certainly gazed at the base of the
hill to the left. For through the pass called Rossville Gap a column in
blue was streaming--Steedman's Division of the Reserve Corps, rushing to
aid Thomas, so sore pressed at Chickamauga. Those slopes by Chickamauga
Creek witnessed the deadliest battle in the West and the highest in
percentage of killed and wounded of the entire war. It was fought as a
result of Rosecrans' attempt to maneuver Bragg out of Chattanooga. The
Federal army crossed the Tennessee River west of the city, passed through
the mountain-ranges, and came upon Bragg's line of communications. Finding
his position untenable, the Southern leader moved southward and fell upon
the united forces of Rosecrans along Chickamauga Creek. The vital point in
the Federal line was the left, held by Thomas. Should that give way, the
army would be cut off from Chattanooga, with no base to fall back on. The
heavy fighting of September 19th showed that Bragg realized the situation.
Brigades and regiments were shattered. For a time, the Union army was
driven back. But at nightfall Thomas had regained the lost ground. He
re-formed during the night in order to protect the road leading into
Chattanooga. Since the second day was foggy till the middle of the
forenoon, the fighting was not renewed till late. About noon a break was
made in the right of the Federal battle-line, into which the eager
Longstreet promptly hurled his men. Colonel Dodge writes: "Everything
seems lost. The entire right of the army, with Rosecrans and his staff, is
driven from the field in utter rout. But, unknown even to the commanding
general, Thomas, the Rock of Chickamauga, stands there at bay, surrounded,
facing two to one. Heedless of the wreck of one-half the army, he knows
not how to yield."



Crawfish Spring, to the South of the Chickamauga Battle-field. Rosecrans,
in concentrating his troops on the 18th of September, was still possessed
of the idea that Bragg was covering his retreat upon his railroad
connections at Dalton. Instead, the Confederate commander had massed his
forces on the other side of Chickamauga and was only awaiting the arrival
of Longstreet to assume the aggressive. On the morning of the 19th,
McCook's right wing at Crawfish Spring was strongly threatened by the
Confederates, while the real attack was made against the left in an effort
to turn it and cut Rosecrans off from a retreat upon Chattanooga. All day
long, brigade after brigade was marched from the right of the Federal line
in order to extend the left under Thomas and withstand this flanking
movement. Even after nightfall, Thomas, trying to re-form his lines and
carry them still farther to the left for the work of the morrow, brought
on a sharp conflict in the darkness. The Confederates had been held back,
but at heavy cost. That night, at the Widow Glenn's house, Rosecrans
consulted his generals. The exhausted Thomas, when roused from sleep for
his opinion, invariably answered, "I would strengthen the left." There
seemed as yet to be no crisis at hand, and the council closed with a song
by the debonair McCook.



Lee & Gordon's mill, seen in the picture, marked the extreme right of the
Federal line on the second day at Chickamauga. From it, northward, were
posted the commands of McCook and Crittenden, depleted by the detachments
of troops the day before to strengthen the left. All might have gone well
if the main attack of the Confederates had continued to the left, as
Rosecrans expected. But hidden in the woods, almost within a stone's throw
of the Federal right on that misty morning, was the entire corps of
Longstreet, drawn up in columns of brigades at half distance--"a
masterpiece of tactics," giving space for each column to swing right or
left. Seizing a momentous opportunity which would have lasted but thirty
minutes at the most, Longstreet hurled them through a gap which, owing to
a misunderstanding, had been left open, and the entire Federal right was
swept from the field.



Here, at his headquarters, holding the Federal line of retreat at
Rossville Gap (the Confederate objective in the battle), General Gordon
Granger heard with increasing anxiety the sounds of the conflict, three
miles away, growing more and more ominous. Finally, in disobedience of
orders, he set in motion his three brigades to the relief of Thomas,
pushing forward two of them under Steedman. These arrived upon the field
early in the afternoon, the most critical period of the battle, as
Longstreet charged afresh on Thomas' right and rear. Seizing a
battle-flag, Steedman (at the order of General Granger) led his command in
a counter-charge which saved the Army of the Cumberland. This old house at
Rossville was built by John Ross, a chief of the Cherokee Indians, and he
lived in it till 1832, giving his name to the hamlet. Half-breed
descendants of the Cherokees who had intermarried with both whites and
Negroes were numerous in the vicinity of Chickamauga, and many of them
fought with their white neighbors on the Confederate side.


    AFTER CHATTANOOGA: "The Confederate lines ... could not be rebuilt.
    The material for reconstructing them was exhausted. The blue-crested
    flood which had broken these lines was not disappearing. The fountains
    which supplied it were exhaustless. It was still coming with an ever
    increasing current, swelling higher and growing more resistless. This
    triune disaster [Vicksburg, Gettysburg, Missionary Ridge] was
    especially depressing to the people because it came like a blight upon
    their hopes which had been awakened by recent Confederate
    victories."--_General John B. Gordon, C. S. A., in "Reminiscences of
    the Civil War."_

Following the defeat of Rosecrans' army at Chickamauga in September 1863
Bragg at once took strong positions on Missionary Ridge and Lookout
Mountain. From these heights he was able to besiege the entire Army of the
Cumberland in Chattanooga and obstruct the main arteries of supply to the
Federal troops. Rosecrans was forced to abandon the route along the south
bank of the Tennessee River, which led from Bridgeport, in Alabama, and to
depend exclusively upon a long and mountainous wagon road on the north
side of the river for the transportation of supplies. The Confederate
cavalry, crossing the Tennessee above Chattanooga, fell upon the trains
entangled in the mud of the Sequatchie valley, destroying in one day three
hundred wagons, and killing or capturing about eighteen hundred mules.
Within a short time the wisdom of Bragg's plan became apparent; famine
threatened the Union army and several thousand horses and mules had
already died from starvation. By his relentless vigil, the Confederate
leader seemed destined to achieve a greater victory over his opponent than
had hitherto attended his efforts in actual conflict.

Meanwhile, a complete reorganization of the Federal forces in the West was
effected. Under the title of the Military Division of the Mississippi, the
Departments of the Ohio, the Cumberland, and the Tennessee were united
with Grant as general commanding, and Rosecrans was replaced by Thomas at
the head of the Army of the Cumberland.

A hurried concentration of the Federal forces was now ordered by General
Halleck. Hooker with fifteen thousand men of the Army of the Potomac came
rapidly by rail to Bridgeport. Sherman, with a portion of his army, about
twenty thousand strong, was summoned from Vicksburg and at once embarked
in steamers for Memphis. General Grant decided to assume personal charge
of the Federal forces; but before he reached his new command, Thomas, ably
assisted by his chief engineer, General W. F. Smith, had begun to act on a
plan which Rosecrans had conceived, and which proved in the end to be a
brilliant conception. This was to seize a low range of hills known as
Raccoon Mountain on the peninsula made by a bend of the river, on its
south side and west of Chattanooga, and establish a wagon road to Kelly's
Ferry, a point farther down the river to which supplies could be brought
by boat from Bridgeport, and at the same time communication effected with

A direct line was not only secured to Bridgeport, but Hooker advanced with
a portion of his troops into Lookout Valley and after a short but decisive
skirmish drove the Confederates across Lookout Creek, leaving his forces
in possession of the hills he had gained. The route was now opened between
Bridgeport and Brown's Ferry; abundant supplies were at once available and
the Army of the Cumberland relieved of its perilous position.

Unlike the condition which had prevailed at Chickamauga, reënforcements
from all sides were hastening to the aid of Thomas' army; Hooker was
already on the ground; Sherman was advancing rapidly from Memphis, and he
arrived in person on November 15th, while Burnside's forces at Knoxville
offered protection to the left flank of the Federal army.

The disposition of the Confederate troops at this time was a formidable
one; the left flank rested on the northern end of Lookout Mountain and the
line extended a distance of twelve miles across Chattanooga Valley to
Missionary Ridge. This position was further strengthened by entrenchments
throughout the lowlands. Despite the danger which threatened his army from
the converging Union forces, General Bragg determined to attack Burnside
and despatched Longstreet with twenty thousand of his best troops to
Knoxville. His army materially weakened, the Confederate general continued
to hold the same extended position, although his combined force was
smaller than had opposed Rosecrans alone at Chickamauga.

On the 23d of November, after a long and fatiguing march over roads almost
impassable by reason of continuous rains, Sherman crossed the Tennessee by
the pontoon bridge at Brown's Ferry, recrossed it above Chattanooga, and
was assigned a position to the left of the main army near the mouth of
Chickamauga Creek. Grant had now some eighty thousand men, of whom sixty
thousand were on the scene of the coming battle, and, though fearful lest
Burnside should be dislodged from his position at Knoxville, he would not
be diverted from his purpose of sweeping the Confederates from the front
of Chattanooga. It had been Grant's plan to attack on the 24th, but
information reached him that Bragg was preparing a retreat. He, therefore,
on the 23d, ordered Thomas to advance upon Bragg's center.

Preparations for movement were made in full view of the Confederates; from
the appearance of the troops, clad in their best uniforms, the advance
line of the Southern army was content to watch this display, in the belief
that the maneuvering army was parading in review. Suddenly, the peaceful
pageant turned into a furious charge, before which the Confederate
pickets, taken by surprise, retreated from the first line of earthworks,
and Thomas, with little loss to either side, captured Orchard Knob,
between Chattanooga and Missionary Ridge. From this point, which was
almost a mile in advance of the position occupied during the morning,
Grant directed the movements of his army on the following day.

The Federal position was of less extent than that occupied by the
Confederates. Sherman was in command of the left wing, while Thomas held
the center, and "Fighting Joe" Hooker, with the Union right in Lookout
Valley, threatened Lookout Mountain. The plan of battle was for Sherman to
engage the Confederate right and sever communications between Bragg and
Longstreet; Hooker was to carry out an assault on the Southern left flank,
and at the same time maintain connection with Bridgeport. With both wings
assailed by a superior force, it was believed that Bragg must reënforce
these positions and permit Thomas, with overwhelming numbers, to
concentrate upon the center.

On the 24th, two distinct movements were in progress. Sherman met with but
little opposition in his initial attack upon the Confederate right and
promptly seized and occupied the north end of Missionary Ridge. The
Confederates, late in the afternoon, fought desperately to regain the hill
but were finally repulsed, and Sherman fortified the position he had
gained. In the mean time, Hooker, early in the day, had begun his
operations against Lookout Mountain. Standing like a lone sentinel above
the surrounding valleys, its steep, rocky, and deeply furrowed slopes,
rising into a high, palisaded crest, frowned defiance upon the advancing
troops, while a well-constructed line of defenses completed the imposing

Hooker had in addition to his own troops a division of Sherman's army
(Osterhaus') which, owing to damage to the pontoon bridge at Brown's
Ferry, had been prevented from joining its own leader. As ordered by
Hooker, General Geary took his division up the valley to Wauhatchie,
crossed the creek and marched down the east bank, sweeping the
Confederate outposts before him. The remainder of the command got across
by bridges lower down. Gaining the slopes of the mountain the Federal
troops rushed on in their advance. From the high palisaded summit,
invisible in the low-hanging clouds, the guns of General Stevenson's
brigades poured an iron deluge upon them. But on they went, climbing over
ledges and boulders, up hill and down, while the soldiers of the South
with musket and cannon tried in vain to check them. Position after
position was abandoned to the onrushing Federals, and by noon Geary's
advanced troops had rounded the north slope of the mountain and passed
from the sight of General Hooker, who was watching the contest from a
vantage point to the west. Grant and Thomas from the headquarters on
Orchard Knob were likewise eager witnesses of the struggle, although the
haze was so dense that they caught a glimpse only now and then as the
clouds would rise.

Reenforcements came to the Confederates and they availed nothing. Geary's
troops had been ordered to halt when they reached the foot of the
palisades, but fired by success they pressed impetuously forward. From its
higher position at the base of the cliff Cobham's brigade showered volley
after volley upon the Confederate main line of defense, while that of
Ireland gradually rolled up the flank. The Federal batteries on Moccasin
Point across the river were doing what they could to clear the mountain.
The Southerners made a last stand in their walls and pits around the
Craven house, but were finally driven in force over rocks and precipices
into Chattanooga Valley.

Such was the "battle in the clouds," a wonderful spectacle denied the
remainder of Hooker's troops holding Lookout Valley. That general says,
"From the moment we had rounded the peak of the mountain it was only from
the roar of battle and the occasional glimpses our comrades in the valley
could catch of our lines and standards that they knew of the strife or
its progress, and when from these evidences our true condition was
revealed to them their painful anxiety yielded to transports of joy which
only soldiers can feel in the earliest moments of dawning victory."

By two in the afternoon the clouds had settled completely into the valley
and the ensuing darkness put an end to further operations. Hooker
established and strengthened a new position and waited for reënforcements,
which General Carlin brought from Chattanooga at five o'clock. Until after
midnight an irregular fire was kept up, but the Confederates could not
break the new line. Before dawn General Stevenson abandoned the summit,
leaving behind twenty thousand rations and the camp equipage of his three
brigades. Hooker, anticipating this move, sent several detachments to
scale the palisades. A party of six men from the Eighth Kentucky regiment,
by means of ladders, was the first to reach the summit, and the waving
Stars and Stripes greeted the rising sun of November 25th on Lookout
Mountain, amid the wild and prolonged cheers of "Fighting Joe's" valiant

The fighting of Sherman and Hooker on the 24th secured to Grant's army a
distinct advantage in position. From the north end of Lookout Mountain
across Chattanooga Valley to the north end of Missionary Ridge the Union
forces maintained an unbroken front.

The morning of the 25th dawned cold, and an impenetrable mist which lay
deep in the valleys was soon driven away. From Orchard Knob, a point
almost in the center of the united Federal host, General Grant watched the
preparations for the battle. At sunrise, Sherman's command was in motion.
In his front, an open space intervened between his position and a ridge
held by the Confederates, while just beyond rose a much higher hill.
Toward the first ridge the attacking column, under General Corse, advanced
rapidly and in full view of the foe. For a time it seemed as if the
Confederates must recede before the terrific onslaught, but the advance
was abruptly checked after a very close and stubborn struggle, when
within a short distance of the entrenchment.

Unmindful of the numbers which opposed him, General Hardee not only
succeeded in repulsing the attack, but, assuming the offensive, drove back
the forces under General John E. Smith, who had sought to turn his left,
and captured several hundred prisoners. The Federals, quickly re-forming
their lines, renewed the assault and for several hours the fighting was
desperate on both sides. A general advance of the Northern forces had been
withheld, awaiting the arrival of Hooker who, under orders from Grant, was
sweeping down Chickamauga Valley, and was to operate against the
Confederate left and rear, in the expectation that Bragg would further
weaken his line by massing at those points. But Hooker's army had been
delayed several hours by repairs to the bridge crossing Chattanooga Creek.
Although Sherman had failed in his attempt to turn the Confederate right
he had forced Bragg to draw heavily upon his center for reënforcements.
Grant, satisfied that Hooker was not far off, ordered the signal--six guns
fired in rapid succession from the battery on Orchard Knob--for a general
advance of Thomas' army upon the Confederate center.

It was now three o'clock in the afternoon. The four division commanders of
the Army of the Cumberland, Sheridan, Wood, Baird, and Johnson, gave the
word to advance. Between Orchard Knob and the base of Missionary Ridge, a
mile away, is a broad valley covered for the most part with heavy timber.
This had to be crossed before the entrenchments at the foot of the hill
could be assaulted. Scarcely were the Cumberland troops in motion when
fifty pieces of artillery on the crest of Missionary Ridge opened a
terrific fire upon them. But the onward rush of the Federals was not
checked in the slightest degree. The line of entrenchments at the base was
carried with little opposition. Most of Breckinridge's men abandoned the
ditches as the Federal skirmishers approached and sought refuge up the
hill, breaking and throwing into confusion other troops as they passed

At the foot of Missionary Ridge Thomas' army had reached its goal. Its
orders carried it no further. But, as General Wood has related, "the
enthusiasm and impetuosity of the troops were such that those who first
reached the entrenchments at the base of the ridge bounded over them and
pressed on up the ascent.... Moreover the entrenchments were no protection
against the artillery on the ridge. To remain would be destruction--to
return would be both expensive in life, and disgraceful. Officers and men,
all seemed impressed with this truth.... Without waiting for an order the
vast mass pressed forward in the race for glory, each man anxious to be
the first on the summit.... Artillery and musketry could not check the
impetuous assault. The troops did not halt to fire. To have done so would
have been ruinous. Little was left to the commanders of the troops than to
cheer on the foremost--to encourage the weaker of limb and to sustain the
very few who seemed to be faint-hearted."

Midway up the slope was a small line of rifle-pits, but these proved of no
use in stemming the Federal tide. In the immediate front, however, Major
Weaver of the Sixtieth North Carolina rallied a sufficient number of the
demoralized Confederates to send a well-directed and effective fire upon
the advancing troops. At this point the first line of oncoming Federals
was vigorously repulsed, and thrown back to the vacated Confederate
trenches. General Bragg, noticing this, rode along the ridge to spread his
good news among the troops, but he had not gone far when word was brought
that the right flank was broken and that the Federal standard had been
seen on the summit. A second and a third flag appeared in quick
succession. Bragg sent General Bate to drive the foe back, but the
disaster was so great that the latter was unable to repair it. Even the
artillery had abandoned the infantry. The Confederate flank had gone, and
within an hour of the start from Orchard Knob the crest of Missionary
Ridge was occupied by Federal troops. Sheridan did not stop here. He went
down the eastern slope, driving all in front of him toward Chickamauga
Creek. On a more easterly ridge he rested until midnight, when he advanced
to the creek and took many prisoners and stores.

While the Army of the Cumberland accomplished these things, Hooker was
advancing his divisions at charging pace from the south. Cruft was on the
crest, Osterhaus in the eastern valley, and Geary in the western--all
within easy supporting distance. Before Cruft's onrush the left wing of
Bragg's army was scattered in all directions from the ridge. Many ran down
the eastern slope into Osterhaus' column and the very few who chose a way
of flight to the west, were captured by Geary. The bulk of them, however,
fell back from trench to trench upon the crest until finally, as the sun
was sinking, they found themselves surrounded by Johnson's division of the
Army of the Cumberland. Such was the fate of Stewart's division; only a
small portion of it got away.

On the Confederate right Hardee held his own against Sherman, but with the
left and center routed and in rapid flight Bragg realized the day was
lost. He could do nothing but cover Breckinridge's retreat as best he
might and order Hardee to retire across Chickamauga Creek.

Thus ended the battle of Chattanooga. Bragg's army had been wholly
defeated, and, after being pursued for some days, it found a resting place
at Dalton among the mountains of Georgia. The Federal victory was the
result of a campaign carefully planned by Generals Halleck and Grant and
ably carried out by the efforts of the subordinate generals.

The losses in killed and wounded sustained by Grant were over fifty-eight
hundred and those of Bragg about sixty-six hundred, four thousand being
prisoners. But the advantage of the great position had been forever
wrested from the Southern army.

[Illustration: THE BESIEGED


At this point, where Citico Creek joins the Tennessee, the left of the
Eleventh Corps of the Army of the Cumberland rested on the river bank, the
limit of the Federal line of defense, east of Chattanooga. Here, on high
ground overlooking the stream, was posted Battery McAloon to keep the
Confederates back from the river, so that timber and firewood could be
rafted down to the besieged army. In the chill of autumn, with scanty
rations, the soldiers had a hard time keeping warm, as all fuel within the
lines had been consumed. The Army of the Cumberland was almost conquered
by hardship. Grant feared that the soldiers "could not be got out of their
trenches to assume the offensive." But it was these very men who achieved
the most signal victory in the battle of Chattanooga.



The U. S. S. _Chattanooga_ was the first steamboat built by the Federals
on the upper Tennessee River. Had the gunboats on the Ohio been able to
come up the Tennessee River nearly three hundred miles, to the assistance
of Rosecrans, Bragg could never have bottled him up in Chattanooga. But
between Florence and Decatur, Alabama, Muscle Shoals lay in the stream,
making the river impassable. While Bragg's pickets invested the railroad
and river, supplies could not be brought up from Bridgeport; and besides,
with the exception of one small steamboat (the _Dunbar_), the Federals had
no boats on the river. General W. F. Smith, Chief Engineer of the Army of
the Cumberland, had established a saw-mill with an old engine at
Bridgeport for the purpose of getting out lumber from logs rafted down the
river, with which to construct pontoons. Here Captain Arthur Edwards,
Assistant Quartermaster, had been endeavoring since the siege began to
build a steamboat consisting of a flat-bottom scow, with engine, boiler,
and stern-wheel mounted upon it. On October 24th, after many difficulties
and discouragements had been overcome, the vessel was launched
successfully and christened the _Chattanooga_. On the 29th she made her
trial trip. That very night, Hooker, in the battle of Wauhatchie,
definitely established control of the new twelve-mile "Cracker Line" from
Kelley's Ferry, which Grant had ordered for the relief of the starving
army. The next day the little _Chattanooga_, with steam up, was ready to
start from Bridgeport with a heavy load of the much-needed supplies, and
her arrival was anxiously awaited at Kelley's Ferry, where the
wagon-trains were all ready to rush forward the rations and forage to
Chattanooga. The mechanics were still at work upon the little vessel's
unfinished pilot-house and boiler-deck while she and the two barges she
was to tow were being loaded, and at 4 A.M. on November 30th she set out
to make the 45-mile journey against unfavorable head-winds.



The home-made little steamboat _Chattanooga_ was beset with difficulties
and dangers on her memorable voyage of November 30th. She made but slow
progress against the wind and the rapid current of the tortuous Tennessee.
Fearful of breaking a steam pipe or starting a leak, she crawled along all
day, and then was enveloped in one of the darkest of nights, out of which
a blinding rain stung the faces of her anxious crew. Assistant
Quartermaster William G. Le Duc, in command of the expedition, helped the
pilot to feel his way through the darkness. At last the camp-fires of the
Federals became guiding beacons from the shore and soon the _Chattanooga_
tied up safely at Kelley's Ferry. The "Cracker Line" was at last opened in
the nick of time, for there were but four boxes of hard bread left in the
commissary at Chattanooga, where four cakes of hard bread and one-quarter
of a pound of pork were being issued as a three-days' ration.



At Missionary Ridge (seen in the distance in the lower picture) the Army
of the Cumberland removed forever from Grant's mind any doubt of its
fighting qualities. Grant, anxious to develop Bragg's strength, ordered
Thomas, on November 23d, to demonstrate against the forces on his front.
Moving out as if on parade, the troops under Gordon Granger drove back the
Confederates and captured Orchard Knob (or Indian Hill) a day before it
had been planned to do so. Still another surprise awaited Grant on the
25th, when from this eminence he watched the magnificent spectacle of the
battle of Chattanooga. Thomas' men again pressed forward in what was
ordered as a demonstration against Missionary Ridge. Up and over it they
drove the Confederates from one entrenchment after another, capturing the
guns parked in the lower picture. "By whose orders are those troops going
up the hill?" "Old Pap" Thomas, who knew his men better than did Grant,
replied that it was probably by their own orders. It was the most signal
victory of the day.





General Hooker and Staff at Lookout Mountain. Hooker's forces of about
9,700 men had been sent from the East to reënforce Rosecrans, but until
the arrival of Grant they were simply so many more mouths to feed in the
besieged city. In the battle of Wauhatchie, on the night of October 20th,
they drove back the Confederates and established the new line of
communication. On November 24th they, too, had a surprise in store for
Grant. Their part in the triple conflict was also ordered merely as a
"demonstration," but they astounded the eyes and ears of their comrades
with the spectacular fight by which they made their way up Lookout
Mountain. The next day, pushing on to Rossville, the daring Hooker
attacked one of Bragg's divisions and forced it into precipitate retreat.





Entrenchments on Lookout Mountain. Up such rugged heights as these,
heavily timbered and full of chasms, Hooker's men fought their way on the
afternoon of November 24th. Bridging Lookout Creek, the troops crossed,
hidden by the friendly mist, and began ascending the mountain-sides,
driving the Confederates from one line of rifle-pits and then from
another. The heavy musketry fire and the boom of the Confederate battery
on the top of the mountain apprised the waiting Federals before
Chattanooga that the battle had begun. Now and again the fitful lifting of
the mist disclosed to Grant and Thomas, watching from Orchard Knob, the
men of Hooker fighting upon the heights. Then all would be curtained once
more. At two o'clock in the afternoon the mist became so heavy that Hooker
and his men could not see what they were doing, and paused to entrench. By
four o'clock, however, he had pushed on to the summit and reported to
Grant that his position was impregnable. Direct communication was then
established and reënforcements sent.



Pulpit Rock, the Summit of Lookout Mountain. Before dawn of November 25th,
Hooker, anticipating the withdrawal of the Confederates, sent detachments
to seize the very summit of the mountain, here 2,400 feet high. Six
volunteers from the Eighth Kentucky Regiment scaled the palisades by means
of the ladders seen in this picture, and made their way to the top. The
rest of the regiment quickly followed; then came the Ninety-sixth
Illinois. The rays of the rising sun disclosed the Stars and Stripes
floating in triumph from the lofty peak "amid the wild and prolonged
cheers of the men whose dauntless valor had borne them to that point."

[Illustration: THE FLANKING PASS


The Gap in Missionary Ridge at Rossville. Through this Georgia
mountain-pass runs the road to Ringgold. Rosecrans took advantage of it
when he turned Bragg's flank before the battle of Chickamauga; and on
November 25, 1863, Thomas ordered Hooker to advance from Lookout Mountain
to this point and strike the Confederates on their left flank, while in
their front he (Thomas) stood ready to attack. The movement was entirely
successful, and in a brilliant battle, begun by Hooker, Bragg's army was
swept from Missionary Ridge and pursued in retreat to Georgia.

[Illustration: THE SKIRMISH LINE


Multiply the number of these men by ten, strike out the tents, and we see
vividly how the advancing line of Thomas' Army of the Cumberland appeared
to the Confederates as they swept up the slope at Missionary Ridge to win
the brilliant victory of November 25th. This view of drilling Federal
troops in Chattanooga preserves the exact appearance of the line of battle
only a couple of months before the picture was taken. The skirmishers,
thrown out in advance of the line, are "firing" from such positions as the
character of the ground makes most effective. The main line is waiting for
the order to charge.

[Illustration: BATTLE OF MOBILE BAY.

_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    The volunteers who composed the armies of the Potomac and Northern
    Virginia were real soldiers now, inured to war, and desperate in their
    determination to do its work without faltering or failure. This
    fact--this change in the temper and _morale_ of the men on either
    side--had greatly simplified the tasks set for Grant and Lee to solve.
    They knew their men. They knew that those men would stand against
    anything, endure slaughter without flinching, hardship without
    complaining, and make desperate endeavor without shrinking. The two
    armies had become what they had not been earlier in the contest,
    _perfect instruments of war_, that could be relied upon as confidently
    as the machinist relies upon his engine scheduled to make so many
    revolutions per minute at a given rate of horse-power, and with the
    precision of science itself.--_George Cary Eggleston, in "The History
    of the Confederate War."_

After the battle of Gettysburg, Lee started for the Potomac, which he
crossed with some difficulty, but with little interruption from the
Federals, above Harper's Ferry, on July 14, 1863. The thwarted invader of
Pennsylvania wished to get to the plains of Virginia as quickly as
possible, but the Shenandoah was found to be impassable. Meade, in the
mean time, had crossed the Potomac east of the Blue Ridge and seized the
principal outlets from the lower part of the Valley. Lee, therefore, was
compelled to continue his retreat up the Shenandoah until Longstreet, sent
in advance with part of his command, had so blocked the Federal pursuit
that most of the Confederate army was able to emerge through Chester Gap
and move to Culpeper Court House. Ewell marched through Thornton's Gap and
by the 4th of August practically the whole Army of Northern Virginia was
south of the Rapidan, prepared to dispute the crossing of that river. But
Meade, continuing his flank pursuit, halted at Culpeper Court House,
deeming it imprudent to attempt the Rapidan in the face of the strongly
entrenched Confederates. In the entire movement there had been no fighting
except a few cavalry skirmishes and no serious loss on either side.

On the 9th of September, Lee sent Longstreet and his corps to assist Bragg
in the great conflict that was seen to be inevitable around Chattanooga.
In spite of reduced strength, Lee proceeded to assume a threatening
attitude toward Meade, and in October and early November there were
several small but severe engagements as the Confederate leader attempted
to turn Meade's flank and force him back to the old line of Bull Run. On
the 7th of November, Sedgwick made a brilliant capture of the redoubts on
the Rappahannock, and Lee returned once more to his old position on the
south side of the Rapidan. This lay between Barnett's Ford, near Orange
Court House (Lee's headquarters), and Morton's Ford, twenty miles below.
Its right was also protected by entrenchments along the course of Mine
Run. Against these, in the last days of November, Meade sent French,
Sedgwick, and Warren. It was found impossible to carry the Confederate
position, and on December 1st the Federal troops were ordered to recross
the Rapidan. In this short campaign the Union lost sixteen hundred men and
the Confederacy half that number. With the exception of an unsuccessful
cavalry raid against Richmond, in February, nothing disturbed the
existence of the two armies until the coming of Grant.

In the early months of 1864, the Army of the Potomac lay between the
Rapidan and the Rappahannock, most of it in the vicinity of Culpeper Court
House, although some of the troops were guarding the railroad to
Washington as far as Bristoe Station, close to Manassas Junction. On the
south side of the Rapidan, the Army of Northern Virginia was, as has been
seen, securely entrenched. The Confederates' ranks were thin and their
supplies were scarce; but the valiant spirit which had characterized the
Southern hosts in former battles still burned fiercely within their
breasts, presaging many desperate battles before the heel of the invader
should tread upon their cherished capital, Richmond, and their loved
cause, the Confederacy.

Within the camp religious services had been held for weeks in succession,
resulting in the conversion of large numbers of the soldiers. General Lee
was a religious man. The influence of the awakening among the men in the
army during this revival was manifest after the war was over, when the
soldiers had gone back to civil life, under conditions most trying and
severe. To this spiritual frame of mind may be credited, perhaps, some of
the remarkable feats accomplished in subsequent battles by the Confederate

On February 29, 1864, the United States Congress passed law reviving the
grade of lieutenant-general, the title being intended for Grant, who was
made general-in-chief of the armies of the United States. Grant had come
from his victorious battle-grounds in the West, and all eyes turned to him
as the chieftain who should lead the Union army to success. On the 9th of
March he received his commission. He now planned the final great double
movement of the war. Taking control of the whole campaign against Lee, but
leaving the Army of the Potomac under Meade's direct command, he chose the
strongest of his corps commanders, W. T. Sherman, for the head of affairs
in the West. Grant's immediate objects were to defeat Lee's army and to
capture Richmond, the latter to be accomplished by General Butler and the
Army of the James; Sherman's object was to crush Johnston, to seize that
important railroad center, Atlanta, Georgia, and, with Banks' assistance,
to open a way between the Atlantic coast and Mobile, on the Gulf, thus
dividing the Confederacy north and south, as the conquest of the
Mississippi had parted it east and west. It was believed that if either or
both of these campaigns were successful, the downfall of the Confederacy
would be assured.

On a recommendation of General Meade's, the Army of the Potomac was
reorganized into three corps instead of the previous five. The Second,
Fifth, and Sixth corps were retained, absorbing the First and Third.

Hancock was in command of the Second; Warren, the Fifth; and Sedgwick, the
Sixth. Sheridan was at the head of the cavalry. The Ninth Corps acted as a
separate army under Burnside, and was now protecting the Orange and
Alexandria Railroad. As soon as Meade had crossed the Rapidan, Burnside
was ordered to move promptly, and he reached the battlefield of the
Wilderness on the morning of May 6th. On May 24th his corps was assigned
to the Army of the Potomac. The Union forces, including the Ninth Corps,
numbered about one hundred and eighteen thousand men.

The Army of Northern Virginia consisted of three corps of infantry, the
First under Longstreet, the Second under Ewell, and the Third under A. P.
Hill, and a cavalry corps commanded by Stuart. A notable fact in the
organization of the Confederate army was the few changes made in
commanders. The total forces under Lee were about sixty-two thousand.

After assuming command, Grant established his headquarters at Culpeper
Court House, whence he visited Washington once a week to consult with
President Lincoln and the Secretary of War. He was given full authority,
however, as to men and movements, and worked out a plan of campaign which
resulted in a series of battles in Virginia unparalleled in history. The
first of these was precipitated in a dense forest, a wilderness, from
which the battle takes its name.

Grant decided on a general advance of the Army of the Potomac upon Lee,
and early on the morning of May 4th the movement began by crossing the
Rapidan at several fords below Lee's entrenched position, and moving by
his right flank. The crossing was effected successfully, the line of march
taking part of the Federal troops over a scene of defeat in the previous
spring. One year before, the magnificent Army of the Potomac, just from a
long winter's rest in the encampment at Falmouth on the north bank of the
Rappahannock, had met the legions of the South in deadly combat on the
battlefield of Chancellorsville. And now Grant was leading the same army,
whose ranks had been freshened by new recruits from the North, through the
same field of war.

By eight o'clock on the morning of the 4th the various rumors as to the
Federal army's crossing the Rapidan received by Lee were fully confirmed,
and at once he prepared to set his own army in motion for the Wilderness,
and to throw himself across the path of his foe. Two days before he had
gathered his corps and division commanders around him at the signal
station on Clark's Mountain, a considerable eminence south of the Rapidan,
near Robertson's Ford. Here he expressed the opinion that Grant would
cross at the lower fords, as he did, but nevertheless Longstreet was kept
at Gordonsville in case the Federals should move by the Confederate left.

The day was oppressively hot, and the troops suffered greatly from thirst
as they plodded along the forest aisles through the jungle-like region.
The Wilderness was a maze of trees, underbrush, and ragged foliage.
Low-limbed pines, scrub-oaks, hazels, and chinkapins interlaced their
branches on the sides of rough country roads that lead through this
labyrinth of desolation. The weary troops looked upon the heavy tangles of
fallen timber and dense undergrowth with a sense of isolation. Only the
sounds of the birds in the trees, the rustling of the leaves, and the
passing of the army relieved the heavy pall of solitude that bore upon the
senses of the Federal host.

The forces of the Northern army advanced into the vast no-man's land by
the roads leading from the fords. In the afternoon, Hancock was resting at
Chancellorsville, while Warren posted his corps near the Wilderness
Tavern, in which General Grant established his headquarters. Sedgwick's
corps had followed in the track of Warren's veterans, but was ordered to
halt near the river crossing, or a little south of it. The cavalry, as
much as was not covering the rear wagon trains, was stationed near
Chancellorsville and the Wilderness Tavern. That night the men from the
North lay in bivouac with little fear of being attacked in this wilderness
of waste, where military maneuvers would be very difficult.

Two roads--the old Orange turnpike and the Orange plank road--enter the
Wilderness from the southwest. Along these the Confederates moved from
their entrenched position to oppose the advancing hosts of the North.
Ewell took the old turnpike and Hill the plank road. Longstreet was
hastening from Gordonsville. The troops of Longstreet, on the one side,
and of Burnside, on the other, arrived on the field after exhausting
forced marches.

The locality in which the Federal army found itself on the 5th of May was
not one that any commander would choose for a battle-ground. Lee was more
familiar with its terrible features than was his opponent, but this gave
him little or no advantage. Grant, having decided to move by the
Confederate right flank, could only hope to pass through the desolate
region and reach more open country before the inevitable clash would come.
But this was not to be. General Humphreys, who was Meade's chief of staff,
says in his "Virginia Campaign of 1864 and 1865": "So far as I know, no
great battle ever took place before on such ground. But little of the
combatants could be seen, and its progress was known to the senses chiefly
by the rising and falling sounds of a vast musketry fire that continually
swept along the lines of battle, many miles in length, sounds which at
times approached to the sublime."

As Ewell, moving along the old turnpike on the morning of May 5th, came
near the Germanna Ford road, Warren's corps was marching down the latter
on its way to Parker's store, the destination assigned it by the orders of
the day. This meeting precipitated the battle of the Wilderness.

Meade learned the position of Ewell's advance division and ordered an
attack. The Confederates were driven back a mile or two, but, re-forming
and reënforced, the tide of battle was turned the other way. Sedgwick's
marching orders were sending him to the Wilderness Tavern on the turnpike.
He was on his way when the battle began, and he now turned to the right
from the Germanna Ford road and formed several of his divisions on
Warren's right. The presence of Hill on the plank road became known to
Meade and Grant, about eight in the morning. Hancock, at Chancellorsville,
was too far away to check him, so Getty's division of Sedgwick's corps, on
its way to the right, was sent over the Brock road to its junction with
the plank road for the purpose of driving Hill back, if possible, beyond
Parker's store.

Warren and Sedgwick began to entrench themselves when they realized that
Ewell had effectively blocked their progress. Getty, at the junction of
the Brock and the Orange plank roads, was likewise throwing up breastworks
as fast as he could. Hancock, coming down the Brock road from
Chancellorsville, reached him at two in the afternoon and found two of A.
P. Hill's divisions in front. After waiting to finish his breastworks,
Getty, a little after four o'clock, started, with Hancock supporting him,
to carry out his orders to drive Hill back. Hancock says: "The fighting
became very fierce at once. The lines of battle were exceedingly close,
the musketry continuous and deadly along the entire line.... The battle
raged with great severity and obstinacy until about 8 P.M. without decided
advantage to either party." Here, on the Federal left, and in this
desperate engagement, General Alexander Hays, one of Hancock's brigade
commanders, was shot through the head and killed.

The afternoon had worn away with heavy skirmishing on the right. About
five o'clock Meade made another attempt on Ewell's forces. Both lines were
well entrenched, but the Confederate artillery enfiladed the Federal
positions. It was after dark when General Seymour of Sedgwick's corps
finally withdrew his brigade, with heavy loss in killed and wounded.

When the battle roar had ceased, the rank and file of the Confederate
soldiers learned with sorrow of the death of one of the most dashing
brigade leaders in Ewell's corps, General John M. Jones. This fighting was
the preliminary struggle for position in the formation of the battle-lines
of the two armies, to secure the final hold for the death grapple. The
contestants were without advantage on either side when the sanguinary
day's work was finished.

Both armies had constructed breastworks and were entrenched very close to
each other, front to front, gathered and poised for a deadly spring. Early
on the morning of May 6th Hancock was reënforced by Burnside, and Hill by

Grant issued orders, through Meade, for a general attack by Sedgwick,
Warren, and Hancock along the entire line, at five o'clock on the morning
of the 6th. Fifteen minutes before five the Confederates opened fire on
Sedgwick's right, and soon the battle was raging along the whole five-mile
front. It became a hand-to-hand contest. The Federals advanced with great
difficulty. The combatants came upon each other but a few paces apart.
Soldiers on one side became hopelessly mixed with those of the other.

Artillery played but little part in the battle of the Wilderness. The
cavalry of the two armies had one indecisive engagement on the 5th. The
next day both Custer and Gregg repulsed Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee in two
separate encounters, but Sheridan was unable to follow up the advantage.
He had been entrusted with the care of the wagon trains and dared not take
his cavalry too far from them. The battle was chiefly one of musketry.
Volley upon volley was poured out unceasingly; screaming bullets mingled
with terrific yells in the dense woods. The noise became deafening, and
the wounded and dying lying on the ground among the trees made a scene of
indescribable horror. Living men rushed in to take the places of those
who had fallen. The missiles cut branches from the trees, and saplings
were mowed down as grass in a meadow is cut by a scythe. Bloody remnants
of uniforms, blue and gray, hung as weird and uncanny decorations from
remaining branches.

The story of the Federal right during the morning is easily told.
Persistently and often as he tried, Warren could make no impression on the
strongly entrenched Ewell--nor could Sedgwick, who was trying equally hard
with Wright's division of his corps. But with Hancock on the left, in his
entrenchments on the Brock road, it was different. The gallant and heroic
charges here have elicited praise and admiration from friend and foe
alike. At first, Hill was forced back in disorder, and driven in confusion
a mile and a half from his line. The Confederates seemed on the verge of
panic and rout. From the rear of the troops in gray came the beloved
leader of the Southern host, General Lee. He was astride his favorite
battle-horse, and his face was set in lines of determination. Though the
crisis of the battle for the Confederates had arrived, Lee's voice was
calm and soft as he commanded, "Follow me," and then urged his charger
toward the bristling front of the Federal lines. The Confederate ranks
were electrified by the brave example of their commander. A ragged veteran
who had followed Lee through many campaigns, leaped forward and caught the
bridle-rein of the horse. "We won't go on until you go back," cried the
devoted warrior. Instantly the Confederate ranks resounded with the cry,
"Lee to the rear! Lee to the rear!" and the great general went back to
safety while his soldiers again took up the gage of battle and plunged
into the smoke and death-laden storm. But Lee, by his personal presence,
and the arrival of Longstreet, had restored order and courage in the
ranks, and their original position was soon regained.

The pursuit of the Confederates through the dense forest had caused
confusion and disorganization in Hancock's corps. That cohesion and
strength in a battle-line of soldiers, where the men can "feel the touch,"
shoulder to shoulder, was wanting, and the usual form and regular
alignment was broken. It was two hours before the lines were re-formed.
That short time had been well utilized by the Confederates. Gregg's eight
hundred Texans made a desperate charge through the thicket of the pine
against Webb's brigade of Hancock's corps, cutting through the growth, and
wildly shouting amid the crash and roar of the battle. Half of their
number were left on the field, but the blow had effectually checked the
Federal advance.

While the battle was raging Grant's general demeanor was imperturbable. He
remained with Meade nearly the whole day at headquarters at the Lacy
house. He sat upon a stump most of the time, or at the foot of a tree,
leaning against its trunk, whittling sticks with his pocket-knife and
smoking big black cigars--twenty during the day. He received reports of
the progress of the battle and gave orders without the least evidence of
excitement or emotion. "His orders," said one of his staff, "were given
with a spur," implying instant action. On one occasion, when an officer,
in great excitement, brought him the report of Hancock's misfortune and
expressed apprehension as to Lee's purpose, Grant exclaimed with some
warmth: "Oh, I am heartily tired of hearing what Lee is going to do. Go
back to your command and try to think what we are going to do ourselves."

Several brigades of Longstreet's troops, though weary from their forced
march, were sent on a flanking movement against Hancock's left, which
demoralized Mott's division and caused it to fall back three-quarters of a
mile. Longstreet now advanced with the rest of his corps. The dashing
leader, while riding with Generals Kershaw and Jenkins at the head of
Jenkins' brigade on the right of the Southern battle array, was screened
by the tangled thickets from the view of his own troops, flushed with the
success of brilliant flank movement. Suddenly the passing column was seen
indistinctly through an opening and a volley burst forth and struck the
officers. When the smoke lifted Longstreet and Jenkins were down--the
former seriously wounded, and the latter killed outright. As at
Chancellorsville a year before and on the same battle-ground, a great
captain of the Confederacy was shot down by his own men, and by accident,
at the crisis of a battle. Jackson lingered several days after
Chancellorsville, while Longstreet recovered and lived to fight for the
Confederacy till the surrender at Appomattox. General Wadsworth, of
Hancock's corps, was mortally wounded during the day, while making a
daring assault on the Confederate works, at the head of his men.

During the afternoon, the Confederate attack upon Hancock's and Burnside's
forces, which constituted nearly half the entire army, was so severe that
the Federal lines began to give way. The combatants swayed back and forth;
the Confederates seized the Federal breastworks repeatedly, only to be
repulsed again and again. Once, the Southern colors were placed on the
Union battlements. A fire in the forest, which had been burning for hours,
and in which, it is estimated, about two hundred of the Federal wounded
perished, was communicated to the timber entrenchments, the heat and smoke
driving into the faces of the men on the Union side, and compelling them
in some places to abandon the works. Hancock made a gallant and heroic
effort to re-form his lines and push the attack, and, as he rode along the
lines, his inspiring presence elicited cheer upon cheer from the men, but
the troops had exhausted their ammunition, the wagons were in the rear,
and as night was approaching, further attack was abandoned. The contest
ended on the lines where it began.

Later in the evening consternation swept the Federal camp when heavy
firing was heard in the direction of Sedgwick's corps, on the right. The
report was current that the entire Sixth Corps had been attacked and
broken. What had happened was a surprise attack by the Confederates,
commanded by General John B. Gordon, on Sedgwick's right flank, Generals
Seymour and Shaler with six hundred men being captured. When a message was
received from Sedgwick that the Sixth Corps was safe in an entirely new
line, there was great rejoicing in the Union camp.

Thus ended the two days' fighting of the battle of the Wilderness, one of
the greatest struggles in history. It was Grant's first experience in the
East, and his trial measure of arms with his great antagonist, General
Lee. The latter returned to his entrenchments and the Federals remained in
their position. The first clash had been undecisive. While Grant had been
defeated in his plan to pass around Lee, yet he had made a new record for
the Army of the Potomac, and he was not turned from his purpose of putting
himself between the Army of Northern Virginia and the capital of the
Confederacy. During the two days' engagement, there were ten hours of
actual fighting, with a loss in killed and wounded of about seventeen
thousand Union and nearly twelve thousand Confederates, nearly three
thousand men sacrificed each hour. It is the belief of some military
writers that Lee deliberately chose the Wilderness as a battle-ground, as
it would effectually conceal great inferiority of force, but if this be so
he seems to have come to share the unanimous opinions of the generals of
both sides that its difficulties were unsurmountable, and within his
entrenchments he awaited further attack. It did not come.

The next night, May 7th, Grant's march by the Confederate right flank was
resumed, but only to be blocked again by the dogged determination of the
tenacious antagonist, a few miles beyond, at Spotsylvania. Lee again
anticipated Grant's move. It is not strange that the minds of these two
men moved along the same lines in military strategy, when we remember they
were both military experts of the highest order, and were now working out
the same problem. The results obtained by each are told in the story of
the battle of Spotsylvania.

[Illustration: LEE'S MEN]

The faces of the veterans in this photograph of 1864 reflect more forcibly
than volumes of historical essays, the privations and the courage of the
ragged veterans in gray who faced Grant, with Lee as their leader. They
did not know that their struggle had already become unavailing; that no
amount of perseverance and devotion could make headway against the
resources, determination, and discipline of the Northern armies, now that
they had become concentrated and wielded by a master of men like Grant.
But Grant was as yet little more than a name to the armies of the East.
His successes had been won on Western fields--Donelson, Vicksburg,
Chattanooga. It was not yet known that the Army of the Potomac under the
new general-in-chief was to prove irresistible. So these faces reflect
perfect confidence.



Though prisoners when this picture was taken--a remnant of Grant's heavy
captures during May and June, when he sent some ten thousand Confederates
to Coxey's Landing, Virginia, as a result of his first stroke against
Lee--though their arms have been taken from them, though their uniforms
are anything but "uniform," their hats partly the regulation felt of the
Army of Northern Virginia, partly captured Federal caps, and partly
nondescript--yet these ragged veterans stand and sit with the dignity of
accomplishment. To them, "Marse Robert" is still the general
unconquerable, under whom inferior numbers again and again have held their
own, and more; the brilliant leader under whom every man gladly rushes to
any assault, however impossible it seems, knowing that every order will be
made to count.



Hither, to Meade's headquarters at Brandy Station, came Grant on March 10,
1864. The day before, in Washington, President Lincoln handed him his
commission, appointing him Lieutenant-General in command of all the
Federal forces. His visit to Washington convinced him of the wisdom of
remaining in the East to direct affairs, and his first interview with
Meade decided him to retain that efficient general in command of the Army
of the Potomac. The two men had known each other but slightly from casual
meetings during the Mexican War. "I was a stranger to most of the Army of
the Potomac," said Grant, "but Meade's modesty and willingness to serve in
any capacity impressed me even more than had his victory at Gettysburg."
The only prominent officers Grant brought on from the West were Sheridan
and Rawlins.



In April, 1864, General Meade's headquarters lay north of the Rapidan. The
Signal Corps was kept busy transmitting the orders preliminary to the
Wilderness campaign, which was to begin May 5th. The headquarters are
below the brow of the hill. A most important part of the Signal Corps'
duty was the interception and translation of messages interchanged between
the Confederate signal-men. A veteran of Sheridan's army tells of his
impressions as follows: "On the evening of the 18th of October, 1864, the
soldiers of Sheridan's army lay in their lines at Cedar Creek. Our
attention was suddenly directed to the ridge of Massanutten, or Three Top
Mountain, the slope of which covered the left wing of the army--the Eighth
Corps. A lively series of signals was being flashed out from the peak, and
it was evident that messages were being sent both eastward and westward of
the ridge. I can recall now the feeling with which we looked up at those
flashes going over our heads, knowing that they must be Confederate
messages. It was only later that we learned that a keen-eyed Union officer
had been able to read the message: 'To Lieutenant-General Early. Be ready
to move as soon as my forces join you, and we will crush Sheridan.
Longstreet, Lieutenant-General.' The sturdiness of Sheridan's veterans and
the fresh spirit put into the hearts of the men by the return of Sheridan
himself from 'Winchester, twenty miles away,' a ride rendered immortal by
Read's poem, proved too much at last for the pluck and persistency of
Early's worn-out troops."

[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE FRONT


The Streets of Culpeper, Virginia, in March, 1864. After Grant's arrival,
the Army of the Potomac awoke to the activity of the spring campaign. One
of the first essentials was to get the vast transport trains in readiness
to cross the Rapidan. Wagons were massed by thousands at Culpeper, near
where Meade's troops had spent the winter. The work of the teamsters was
most arduous; wearied by long night marches--nodding, reins in hand, for
lack of sleep--they might at any moment be suddenly attacked in a bold
attempt to capture or destroy their precious freight. When the
arrangements were completed, each wagon bore the corps badge, division
color, and number of the brigade it was to serve. Its contents were also
designated, together with the branch of the service for which it was
intended. While loaded, the wagons must keep pace with the army movements
whenever possible in order to be parked at night near the brigades to
which they belonged.



Pontoon-Bridges at Germanna Ford, on the Rapidan. Here the Sixth Corps
under Sedgwick and Warren's Fifth Corps began crossing on the morning of
May 4, 1864. The Second Corps, under Hancock, crossed at Ely's Ford,
farther to the east. The cavalry, under Sheridan, was in advance. By night
the army, with the exception of Burnside's Ninth Corps, was south of the
Rapidan, advancing into the Wilderness. The Ninth Corps (a reserve of
twenty thousand men) remained temporarily north of the Rappahannock,
guarding railway communications. On the wooden pontoon-bridge the
rear-guard is crossing while the pontonniers are taking up the canvas
bridge beyond. The movement was magnificently managed; Grant believed it
to be a complete surprise, as Lee had offered no opposition. That was yet
to come. In the baffling fighting of the Wilderness and Spotsylvania Court
House, Grant was to lose a third of his superior number, arriving a month
later on the James with a dispirited army that had left behind 54,926
comrades in a month.



The Edge of the Wilderness, May 5, 1864. Stretching away to the westward
between Grant's army and Lee's lay no-man's-land--the Wilderness. Covered
with a second-growth of thicket, thorny underbrush, and twisted vines, it
was an almost impassable labyrinth, with here and there small clearings in
which stood deserted barns and houses, reached only by unused and
overgrown farm roads. The Federal advance into this region was not a
surprise to Lee, as Grant supposed. The Confederate commander had caused
the region to be carefully surveyed, hoping for the precise opportunity
that Grant was about to give him. At the very outset of the campaign he
could strike the Federals in a position where superior numbers counted
little. If he could drive Grant beyond the Rappahannock--as he had forced
Pope, Burnside and Hooker before him--says George Cary Eggleston (in the
"History of the Confederate War"), "loud and almost irresistible would
have been the cry for an armistice, supported (as it would have been) by
Wall Street and all Europe."



A photograph of Confederate breastworks raised by Ewell's men a few months
before, while they fought in the Wilderness, May 5, 1864. In the picture
we see some of the customary breastworks which both contending armies
threw up to strengthen their positions. These were in a field near the
turnpike in front of Ewell's main line. The impracticable nature of the
ground tore the lines on both sides into fragments; as they swept back and
forth, squads and companies strove fiercely with one another,
hand-to-hand. Grant had confidently expressed the belief to one of his
staff officers that there was no more advance left in Lee's army. He was
surprised to learn on the 5th that Ewell's Corps was marching rapidly down
the Orange turnpike to strike at Sedgwick and Warren, while A. P. Hill,
with Longstreet close behind, was pushing forward on the Orange plank-road
against Hancock.


[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.]

Another view of Ewell's advanced entrenchments--the bark still fresh where
the Confederates had worked with the logs. In the Wilderness, Lee, ever
bold and aggressive, executed one of the most brilliant maneuvers of his
career. His advance was a sudden surprise for Grant, and the manner in
which he gave battle was another. Grant harbored the notion that his
adversary would act on the defensive, and that there would be opportunity
to attack the Army of Northern Virginia only behind strong entrenchments.
But in the Wilderness, Lee's veterans, the backbone of the South's
fighting strength, showed again their unquenchable spirit of
aggressiveness. They came forth to meet Grant's men on equal terms in the
thorny thickets. About noon, May 5th, the stillness was broken by the
rattle of musketry and the roar of artillery, which told that Warren had
met with resistance on the turnpike and that the battle had begun. Nearly
a mile were Ewell's men driven back, and then they came magnificently on
again, fighting furiously in the smoke-filled thickets with Warren's now
retreating troops. Sedgwick, coming to the support of Warren, renewed the
conflict. To the southward on the plank road, Getty's division, of the
Sixth Corps, hard pressed by the forces of A. P. Hill, was succored by
Hancock with the Second Corps, and together these commanders achieved what
seemed success. It was brief; Longstreet was close at hand to save the day
for the Confederates.


[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.]

The Wilderness to the north of the Orange turnpike. Over ground like this,
where men had seldom trod before, ebbed and flowed the tide of trampling
thousands on May 5 and 6, 1864. Artillery, of which Grant had a
superabundance, was well-nigh useless, wreaking its impotent fury upon the
defenseless trees. Even the efficacy of musketry fire was hampered. Men
tripping and falling in the tangled underbrush arose bleeding from the
briars to struggle with an adversary whose every movement was impeded
also. The cold steel of the bayonet finished the work which rifles had
begun. In the terrible turmoil of death the hopes of both Grant and Lee
were doomed to disappointment. The result was a victory for neither. Lee,
disregarding his own safety, endeavored to rally the disordered ranks of
A. P. Hill, and could only be persuaded to retire by the pledge of
Longstreet that his advancing force would win the coveted victory. Falling
upon Hancock's flank, the fresh troops seemed about to crush the Second
Corps, as Jackson's men had crushed the Eleventh the previous year at
Chancellorsville. But now, as Jackson, at the critical moment, had fallen
by the fire of his own men, so Longstreet and his staff, galloping along
the plank road, were mistaken by their own soldiers for Federals and fired
upon. A minie-ball struck Longstreet in the shoulder, and he was carried
from the field, feebly waving his hat that his men might know that he was
not killed. With him departed from the field the life of the attack.



Federal wounded in the Wilderness campaign, at Fredericksburg. Grant lost
17.3 per cent. of his numbers engaged in the two days' battles of the
Wilderness alone. Lee's loss was 18.1 per cent. More than 24,000 of the
Army of the Potomac and of the Army of Northern Virginia lay suffering in
those uninhabited thickets. There many of them died alone, and some
perished in the horror of a forest fire on the night of May 5th. The
Federals lost many gallant officers, among them the veteran Wadsworth. The
Confederates lost Generals Jenkins and Jones, killed, and suffered a
staggering blow in the disabling of Longstreet. The series of battles of
the Wilderness and Spotsylvania campaigns were more costly to the Federals
than Antietam and Gettysburg combined.



This photograph, taken at Wilcox Landing, near City Point, gives an
excellent idea of the difficulties under which telegraphing was done at
the front or on the march. With a tent-fly for shelter and a hard-tack box
for a table, the resourceful operator mounted his "relay," tested his
wire, and brought the commanding general into direct communication with
separated brigades or divisions. The U. S. Military Telegraph Corps,
through its Superintendent of Construction, Dennis Doren, kept Meade and
both wings of his army in communication from the crossing of the Rapidan
in May, 1864, till the siege of Petersburg. Over this field-line Grant
received daily reports from four separate armies, numbering a quarter of a
million men, and replied with daily directions for their operations over
an area of seven hundred and fifty thousand square miles. Though every
corps of Meade's army moved daily, Doren kept them in touch with
headquarters. The field-line was built of seven twisted, rubber-coated
wires which were hastily strung on trees or fences.




The man who established the Federal military telegraph system amid the
first horrors of war was to become one of the world's foremost advocates
of peace. As the right hand man of Thomas A. Scott, Assistant Secretary of
War, he came to Washington in '61, and was immediately put in charge of
the field work of reestablishing communication between the Capital and the
North, cut off by the Maryland mobs. A telegraph operator himself, he
inaugurated the system of cipher despatches for the War Department and
secured the trusted operators with whom the service was begun. A young man
of twenty-four at the time, he was one of the last to leave the
battlefield of Bull Run, and his duties of general superintendence over
the network of railroads and telegraph lines made him a witness of war's
cruelties on other fields until he with his chief left the government
service June 1, 1862.



"No orders ever had to be given to establish the telegraph." Thus wrote
General Grant in his memoirs. "The moment troops were in position to go
into camp, the men would put up their wires." Grant pays a glowing tribute
to "the organization and discipline of this body of brave and intelligent

[Illustration: THE ARMY SAVING THE NAVY IN MAY, 1864



Here the army is saving the navy by a brilliant piece of engineering that
prevented the loss of a fleet worth $2,000,000. The Red River expedition
was one of the most humiliating ever undertaken by the Federals. Porter's
fleet, which had so boldly advanced above the falls at Alexandria, was
ordered back, only to find that the river was so low as to imprison twelve
vessels. Lieut.-Colonel Joseph Bailey, acting engineer of the Nineteenth
Corps, obtained permission to build a dam in order to make possible the
passage of the fleet. Begun on April 30, 1864, the work was finished on
the 8th of May, almost entirely by the soldiers, working incessantly day
and night, often up to their necks in water and under the broiling sun.
Bailey succeeded in turning the whole current into one channel and the
squadron passed below to safety. Not often have inland lumbermen been the
means of saving a navy.

[Illustration: COLONEL JOSEPH BAILEY IN 1864.


The army engineers laughed at this wide-browed, unassuming man when he
suggested building a dam so as to release Admiral Porter's fleet
imprisoned by low water above the Falls at Alexandria at the close of the
futile Red River expedition in 1864. Bailey had been a lumberman in
Wisconsin and had there gained the practical experience which taught him
that the plan was feasible. He was Acting Chief Engineer of the Nineteenth
Army Corps at this time, and obtained permission to go ahead and build his
dam. In the undertaking he had the approval and earnest support of Admiral
Porter, who refused to consider for a moment the abandonment of any of his
vessels even though the Red River expedition had been ordered to return
and General Banks was chafing at delay and sending messages to Porter that
his troops must be got in motion at once.

Bailey pushed on with his work and in eleven days he succeeded in so
raising the water in the channel that all the Federal vessels were able to
pass down below the Falls. "Words are inadequate," said Admiral Porter, in
his report, "to express the admiration I feel for the ability of Lieut.
Colonel Bailey. This is without doubt the best engineering feat ever
performed.... The highest honors the Government can bestow on Colonel
Bailey can never repay him for the service he has rendered the country."
For this achievement Bailey was promoted to colonel, brevetted brigadier
general, voted the thanks of Congress, and presented with a sword and a
purse of $3,000 by the officers of Porter's fleet. He settled in Missouri
after the war and was a formidable enemy of the "Bushwhackers" till he was
shot by them on March 21, 1867. He was born at Salem, Ohio, April 28,



This powerful gunboat, the _Lafayette_, though accompanying Admiral Porter
on the Red River expedition, was not one of those entrapped at Alexandria.
Her heavy draft precluded her being taken above the Falls. Here we see her
lying above Vicksburg in the spring of 1863. She and her sister ship, the
_Choctaw_, were side-wheel steamers altered into casemate ironclads with
rams. The _Lafayette_ had the stronger armament, carrying two 11-inch
Dahlgrens forward, four 9-inch guns in the broadside, and two 24-pound
howitzers, with two 100-pound Parrott guns astern. She and the _Choctaw_
were the most important acquisitions to Porter's fleet toward the end of
1862. The _Lafayette_ was built and armed for heavy fighting. She got her
first taste of it on the night of April 16, 1863, when Porter took part of
his fleet past the Vicksburg batteries to support Grant's crossing of the
river in an advance on Vicksburg from below. The Lafayette, with a barge
and a transport lashed to her, held her course with difficulty through the
tornado of shot and shell which poured from the Confederate batteries on
the river front in Vicksburg as soon as the movement was discovered. The
_Lafayette_ stood up to this fiery christening and successfully ran the
gantlet, as did all the other vessels save one transport. She was
commanded during the Red River expedition by Lieutenant-Commander J. P.



Leaning on the cannon, Commander David Glasgow Farragut and Captain
Percival Drayton, chief of staff, stand on the deck of the "Hartford,"
after the victory in Mobile Bay, of August, 1864. When Gustavus V. Fox,
Assistant Secretary of the Navy, proposed the capture of New Orleans from
the southward he was regarded as utterly foolhardy. All that was needed,
however, to make Fox's plan successful was the man with spirit enough to
undertake it and judgment sufficient to carry it out. Here on the deck of
the fine new sloop-of-war that had been assigned to him as flagship,
stands the man who had just accomplished a greater feat that made him a
world figure as famous as Nelson. The Confederacy had found its great
general among its own people, but the great admiral of the war, although
of Southern birth, had refused to fight against the flag for which, as a
boy in the War of 1812, he had seen men die. Full of the fighting spirit
of the old navy, he was able to achieve the first great victory that gave
new hope to the Federal cause. Percival Drayton was also a Southerner, a
South Carolinian, whose brothers and uncles were fighting for the South.



How formidable was Farragut's undertaking in forcing his way into Mobile
Bay is apparent from these photographs. For wooden vessels to pass Morgan
and Gaines, two of the strongest forts on the coast, was pronounced by
experts most foolhardy. Besides, the channel was planted with torpedoes
that might blow the ships to atoms, and within the bay was the Confederate
ram _Tennessee_, thought to be the most powerful ironclad ever put afloat.
In the arrangements for the attack, Farragut's flagship, the _Hartford_,
was placed second, the _Brooklyn_ leading the line of battleships, which
were preceded by four monitors. At a quarter before six, on the morning of
August 5th, the fleet moved. Half an hour later it came within range of
Fort Morgan. The whole undertaking was then threatened with disaster. The
monitor _Tecumseh_, eager to engage the Confederate ram _Tennessee_ behind
the line of torpedoes, ran straight ahead, struck a torpedo, and in a few
minutes went down with most of the crew. As the monitor sank, the
_Brooklyn_ recoiled. Farragut signaled: "What's the trouble?" "Torpedoes,"
was the answer. "Damn the torpedoes!" shouted Farragut. "Go ahead, Captain
Drayton. Four bells." Finding that the smoke from the guns obstructed the
view from the deck, Farragut ascended to the rigging of the main mast,
where he was in great danger of being struck and of falling to the deck.
The captain accordingly ordered a quartermaster to tie him in the shrouds.
The _Hartford_, under a full head of steam, rushed over the torpedo ground
far in advance of the fleet. The battle was not yet over. The Confederate
ram, invulnerable to the broadsides of the Union guns, steamed alone for
the ships, while the ramparts of the two forts were crowded with
spectators of the coming conflict. The ironclad monster made straight for
the flagship, attempting to ram it and paying no attention to the fire or
the ramming of the other vessels. Its first effort was unsuccessful, but a
second came near proving fatal. It then became a target for the whole
Union fleet; finally its rudder-chain was shot away and it became
unmanageable; in a few minutes it raised the white flag. No wonder
Americans call Farragut the greatest of naval commanders.




This vivid photograph, taken in Mobile Bay by a war-time photographer from
New Orleans, was presented by Captain Drayton of the "Hartford" to T. W.
Eastman, U. S. N., whose family has courteously allowed its reproduction
here. Never was exhibited a more superb morale than on the "Hartford" as
she steamed in line to the attack of Fort Morgan at Mobile Bay on the
morning of August 5, 1864. Every man was at his station thinking his own
thoughts in the suspense of that moment. On the quarterdeck stood Captain
Percival Drayton and his staff. Near them was the chief-quartermaster,
John H. Knowles, ready to hoist the signals that would convey Farragut's
orders to the fleet. The admiral himself was in the port main shrouds
twenty-five feet above the deck. All was silence aboard till the
"Hartford" was in easy range of the fort. Then the great broadsides of the
old ship began to take their part in the awful cannonade. During the early
part of the action Captain Drayton, fearing that some damage to the
rigging might pitch Farragut overboard, sent Knowles on his famous
mission. "I went up," said the old sailor, "with a piece of lead line and
made it fast to one of the forward shrouds, and then took it around the
admiral to the after shroud, making it fast there. The admiral said,
'Never mind, I'm all right,' but I went ahead and obeyed orders." Later
Farragut, undoing the lashing with his own hands, climbed higher still.




The battered walls of Fort Morgan, in 1864, tell of a terrific smashing by
the Federal navy. But the gallant Confederates returned the blows with
amazing courage and skill; the rapidity and accuracy of their fire was
rarely equalled in the war. In the terrible conflict the "Hartford" was
struck twenty times, the "Brooklyn" thirty, the "Octorora" seventeen, the
"Metacomet" eleven, the "Lackawanna" five, the "Ossipee" four, the
"Monongahela" five, the "Kennebec" two, and the "Galena" seven. Of the
monitors the "Chickasaw" was struck three times, the "Manhattan" nine, and
the "Winnebago" nineteen. The total loss in the Federal fleet was 52
killed and 170 wounded, while on the Confederate gunboats 12 were killed
and 20 wounded. The night after the battle the "Metacomet" was turned into
a hospital ship and the wounded of both sides were taken to Pensacola. The
pilot of the captured "Tennessee" guided the Federal ship through the
torpedoes, and as she was leaving Pensacola on her return trip Midshipman
Carter of the "Tennessee," who also was on the "Metacomet," called out
from the wharf: "Don't attempt to fire No. 2 gun (of the "Tennessee"), as
there is a shell jammed in the bore, and the gun will burst and kill some
one." All felt there had been enough bloodshed.

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO.]



Mobile Bay, on the morning of August 5, 1864, was the arena of more
conspicuous heroism than marked any naval battle-ground of the entire war.
Among all the daring deeds of that day stands out superlatively the
gallant manner in which Admiral Franklin Buchanan, C. S. N., fought his
vessel, the "Tennessee." "You shall not have it to say when you leave this
vessel that you were not near enough to the enemy, for I will meet them,
and then you can fight them alongside of their own ships; and if I fall,
lay me on one side and go on with the fight." Thus Buchanan addressed his
men, and then, taking his station in the pilot-house, he took his vessel
into action. The Federal fleet carried more power for destruction than the
combined English, French, and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar, and yet
Buchanan made good his boast that he would fight alongside. No sooner had
Farragut crossed the torpedoes than Buchanan matched that deed, running
through the entire line of Federal vessels, braving their broadsides, and
coming to close quarters with most of them. Then the "Tennessee" ran under
the guns of Fort Morgan for a breathing space. In half an hour she was
steaming up the bay to fight the entire squadron single-handed. Such
boldness was scarce believable, for Buchanan had now not alone wooden
ships to contend with, as when in the "Merrimac" he had dismayed the
Federals in Hampton Roads. Three powerful monitors were to oppose him at
point-blank range. For nearly an hour the gunners in the "Tennessee"
fought, breathing powder-smoke amid an atmosphere superheated to 120
degrees. Buchanan was serving a gun himself when he was wounded and
carried to the surgeon's table below. Captain Johnston fought on for
another twenty minutes, and then the "Tennessee," with her rudder and
engines useless and unable to fire a gun, was surrendered, after a
reluctant consent had been wrung from Buchanan, as he lay on the operating



_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    But to Spotsylvania history will accord the palm, I am sure, for
    having furnished an unexampled muzzle-to-muzzle fire; the longest roll
    of incessant, unbroken musketry; the most splendid exhibition of
    individual heroism and personal daring by large numbers, who, standing
    in the freshly spilt blood of their fellows, faced for so long a
    period and at so short a range the flaming rifles as they heralded the
    decrees of death. This heroism was confined to neither side. It was
    exhibited by both armies, and in that hand-to-hand struggle for the
    possession of the breastworks it seemed almost universal. It would be
    commonplace truism to say that such examples will not be lost to the
    Republic.--_General John B. Gordon, C. S. A., in "Reminiscences of the
    Civil War."_

Immediately after the cessation of hostilities on the 6th of May in the
Wilderness, Grant determined to move his army to Spotsylvania Court House,
and to start the wagon trains on the afternoon of the 7th. Grant's object
was, by a flank move, to get between Lee and Richmond. Lee foresaw Grant's
purpose and also moved his cavalry, under Stuart, across the opponent's
path. As an illustration of the exact science of war we see the two great
military leaders racing for position at Spotsylvania Court House. It was
revealed later that Lee had already made preparations on this field a year
before, in anticipation of its being a possible battle-ground.

Apprised of the movement of the Federal trains, Lee, with his usual
sagacious foresight, surmised their destination. He therefore ordered
General R. H. Anderson, now in command of Longstreet's corps, to march to
Spotsylvania Court House at three o'clock on the morning of the 8th. But
the smoke and flames from the burning forests that surrounded Anderson's
camp in the Wilderness made the position untenable, and the march was
begun at eleven o'clock on the night of the 7th. This early start proved
of inestimable value to the Confederates. Anderson's right, in the
Wilderness, rested opposite Hancock's left, and the Confederates secured a
more direct line of march to Spotsylvania, several miles shorter than that
of the Federals. The same night General Ewell at the extreme Confederate
left was ordered to follow Anderson at daylight, if he found no large
force in his front. This order was followed out, there being no opposing
troops, and the corps took the longest route of any of Lee's troops.
General Ewell found the march exhausting and distressing on account of the
intense heat and dust and smoke from the burning forests.

The Federal move toward Spotsylvania Court House was begun after dark on
the 7th. Warren's corps, in the lead, took the Brock road behind Hancock's
position and was followed by Sedgwick, who marched by way of
Chancellorsville. Burnside came next, but he was halted to guard the
trains. Hancock, covering the move, did not start the head of his command
until some time after daylight. When Warren reached Todd's Tavern he found
the Union cavalry under Merritt in conflict with Fitzhugh Lee's division
of Stuart's cavalry. Warren sent Robinson's division ahead; it drove
Fitzhugh Lee back, and, advancing rapidly, met the head of Anderson's
troops. The leading brigades came to the assistance of the cavalry; Warren
was finally repulsed and began entrenching. The Confederates gained
Spotsylvania Court House.

Throughout the day there was continual skirmishing between the troops, as
the Northerners attempted to break the line of the Confederates. But the
men in gray stood firm. Every advance of the blue was repulsed. Lee again
blocked the way of Grant's move. The Federal loss during the day had been
about thirteen hundred, while the Confederates lost fewer men than their

The work of both was now the construction of entrenchments, which
consisted of earthworks sloping to either side, with logs as a parapet,
and between these works and the opposing army were constructed what are
known as abatis, felled trees, with the branches cut off, the sharp ends
projecting toward the approaching forces.

Lee's entrenchments were of such character as to increase the efficiency
of his force. They were formed in the shape of a huge V with the apex
flattened, forming a salient angle against the center of the Federal line.
The Confederate lines were facing north, northwest, and northeast, the
corps commanded by Anderson on the left, Ewell in the center, and Early on
the right, the latter temporarily replacing A. P. Hill, who was ill. The
Federals confronting them were Burnside on the left, Sedgwick and Warren
in the center, and Hancock on the right.

The day of the 9th was spent in placing the lines of troops, with no
fighting except skirmishing and some sharp-shooting. While placing some
field-pieces, General Sedgwick was hit by a sharpshooter's bullet and
instantly killed. He was a man of high character, a most competent
commander, of fearless courage, loved and lamented by the army. General
Horatio G. Wright succeeded to the command of the Sixth Corps.

Early on the morning of the 10th, the Confederates discovered that Hancock
had crossed the Po River in front of his position of the day before and
was threatening their rear. Grant had suspected that Lee was about to move
north toward Fredericksburg, and Hancock had been ordered to make a
reconnaissance with a view to attacking and turning the Confederate left.
But difficulties stood in the way of Hancock's performance, and before he
had accomplished much, Meade directed him to send two of his divisions to
assist Warren in making an attack on the Southern lines. The Second Corps
started to recross the Po. Before all were over Early made a vigorous
assault on the rear division, which did not escape without heavy loss. In
this engagement the corps lost the first gun in its most honorable career,
a misfortune deeply lamented by every man in the corps, since up to this
moment it had long been the only one in the entire army which could make
the proud claim of never having lost a gun or a color.

But the great event of the 10th was the direct assault upon the
Confederate front. Meade had arranged for Hancock to take charge of this,
and the appointed hour was five in the afternoon. But Warren reported
earlier that the opportunity was most favorable, and he was ordered to
start at once. Wearing his full uniform, the leader of the Fifth Corps
advanced at a quarter to four with the greater portion of his troops. The
progress of the valiant Northerners was one of the greatest difficulty,
owing to the dense wood of low cedar-trees through which they had to make
their way. Longstreet's corps behind their entrenchments acknowledged the
advance with very heavy artillery and musket fire. But Warren's troops did
not falter or pause until some had reached the abatis and others the very
crest of the parapet. A few, indeed, were actually killed inside the
works. All, however, who survived the terrible ordeal were finally driven
back with heavy loss. General James C. Rice was mortally wounded.

To the left of Warren, General Wright had observed what he believed to be
a vulnerable spot in the Confederate entrenchments. Behind this particular
place was stationed Doles' brigade of Georgia regiments, and Colonel Emory
Upton was ordered to charge Doles with a column of twelve regiments in
four lines. The ceasing of the Federal artillery at six o'clock was the
signal for the charge, and twenty minutes later, as Upton tells us, "at
command, the lines rose, moved noiselessly to the edge of the wood, and
then, with a wild cheer and faces averted, rushed for the works. Through a
terrible front and flank fire the column advanced quickly, gaining the
parapet. Here occurred a deadly hand-to-hand conflict. The enemy, sitting
in their pits with pieces upright, loaded, and with bayonets fixed ready
to impale the first who should leap over, absolutely refused to yield the
ground. The first of our men who tried to surmount the works fell, pierced
through the head by musket-balls. Others, seeing the fate of their
comrades, held their pieces at arm's length and fired downward, while
others, poising their pieces vertically, hurled them down upon their
enemy, pinning them to the ground.... The struggle lasted but a few
seconds. Numbers prevailed, and like a resistless wave, the column poured
over the works, quickly putting _hors de combat_ those who resisted and
sending to the rear those who surrendered. Pressing forward and expanding
to the right and left, the second line of entrenchments, its line of
battle, and a battery fell into our hands. The column of assault had
accomplished its task."

The Confederate line had been shattered and an opening made for expected
support. This, however, failed to arrive. General Mott, on the left, did
not bring his division forward as had been planned and as General Wright
had ordered. The Confederates were reënforced, and Upton could do no more
than hold the captured entrenchments until ordered to retire. He brought
twelve hundred prisoners and several stands of colors back to the Union
lines; but over a thousand of his own men were killed or wounded. For
gallantry displayed in this charge, Colonel Upton was made

The losses to the Union army in this engagement at Spotsylvania were over
four thousand. The loss to the Confederates was probably two thousand.

During the 11th there was a pause. The two giant antagonists took a
breathing spell. It was on the morning of this date that Grant penned the
sentence, "I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer,"
to his chief of staff, General Halleck.

During this time Sheridan, who had brought the cavalry up to a state of
great efficiency, was making an expedition to the vicinity of Richmond. He
had said that if he were permitted to operate independently of the army he
would draw Stuart after him. Grant at once gave the order, and Sheridan
made a detour around Lee's army, engaging and defeating the Confederate
cavalry, which he greatly outnumbered, on the 11th of May, at Yellow
Tavern, where General Stuart, the brilliant commander of the Confederate
cavalry, was mortally wounded.

Grant carefully went over the ground and decided upon another attack on
the 12th. About four hundred yards of clear ground lay in front of the
sharp angle, or salient, of Lee's lines. After the battle this point was
known as the "Bloody Angle," and also as "Hell's Hole." Here Hancock was
ordered to make an attack at daybreak on the 12th. Lee had been expecting
a move on the part of Grant. On the evening of the 10th he sent to Ewell
this message: "It will be necessary for you to reestablish your whole line
to-night.... Perhaps Grant will make a night attack, as it was a favorite
amusement of his at Vicksburg."

Through rain and mud Hancock's force was gotten into position within a few
hundred yards of the Confederate breastworks. He was now between Burnside
and Wright. At the first approach of dawn the four divisions of the Second
Corps, under Birney, Mott, Barlow, and Gibbon (in reserve) moved
noiselessly to the designated point of attack. Without a shot being fired
they reached the Confederate entrenchments, and struck with fury and
impetuosity a mortal blow at the point where least expected, on the
salient, held by General Edward Johnson of Ewell's corps. The movement of
the Federals was so swift and the surprise so complete, that the
Confederates could make practically no resistance, and were forced to

The artillery had been withdrawn from the earthworks occupied by Johnson's
troops on the previous night, but developments had led to an order to
have it returned early in the morning. It was approaching as the attack
was made. Before the artillerymen could escape or turn the guns upon the
Federals, every cannon had been captured. General Johnson with almost his
whole division, numbering about three thousand, and General Steuart, were
captured, between twenty and thirty colors, and several thousand stands of
arms were taken. Hancock had already distinguished himself as a leader of
his soldiers, and from his magnificent appearance, noble bearing, and
courage had been called "Hancock the Superb," but this was the most
brilliant of his military achievements.

Pressing onward across the first defensive line of the Confederates,
Hancock's men advanced against the second series of trenches, nearly half
a mile beyond. As the Federals pushed through the muddy fields they lost
all formation. They reached close to the Confederate line. The Southerners
were prepared for the attack. A volley poured into the throng of blue, and
General Gordon with his reserve division rushed forward, fighting
desperately to drive the Northerners back. As they did so General Lee rode
up, evidently intending to go forward with Gordon. His horse was seized by
one of the soldiers, and for the second time in the campaign the cry arose
from the ranks, "Lee to the rear!" The beloved commander was led back from
the range of fire, while the men, under the inspiration of his example,
rushed forward in a charge that drove the Federals back until they had
reached the outer line of works. Here they fought stubbornly at deadly
range. Neither side was able to force the other back. But Gordon was not
able to cope with the entire attack. Wright and Warren both sent some of
their divisions to reënforce Hancock, and Lee sent all the assistance
possible to the troops struggling so desperately to restore his line at
the salient.

Many vivid and picturesque descriptions of this fighting at the angle have
been written, some by eye-witnesses, others by able historians, but no
printed page, no cold type can convey to the mind the realities of that
terrible conflict. The results were appalling. The whole engagement was
practically a hand-to-hand contest. The dead lay beneath the feet of the
living, three and four layers deep. This hitherto quiet spot of earth was
devastated and covered with the slain, weltering in their own blood,
mangled and shattered into scarcely a semblance of human form. Dying men
were crushed by horses and many, buried beneath the mire and mud, still
lived. Some artillery was posted on high ground not far from the apex of
the salient, and an incessant fire was poured into the Confederate works
over the Union lines, while other guns kept up an enfilade of canister
along the west of the salient.

The contest from the right of the Sixth to the left of the Second Corps
was kept up throughout the day along the whole line. Repeatedly the
trenches had to be cleared of the dead. An oak tree twenty-two inches in
diameter was cut down by musket-balls. Men leaped upon the breastworks,
firing until shot down.

The battle of the "angle" is said to have been the most awful in duration
and intensity in modern times. Battle-line after battle-line, bravely
obeying orders, was annihilated. The entrenchments were shivered and
shattered, trunks of trees carved into split brooms. Sometimes the
contestants came so close together that their muskets met, muzzle to
muzzle, and their flags almost intertwined with each other as they waved
in the breeze. As they fought with the desperation of madmen, the living
would stand on the bodies of the dead to reach over the breastworks with
their weapons of slaughter. Lee hurled his army with unparalleled vigor
against his opponent five times during the day, but each time was
repulsed. Until three o'clock the next morning the slaughter continued,
when the Confederates sank back into their second line of entrenchments,
leaving their opponents where they had stood in the morning. All the
fighting on the 12th was not done at the "Bloody Angle." Burnside on the
left of Hancock engaged Early's troops and was defeated, while on the
other side of the salient Wright succeeded in driving Anderson back.

The question has naturally arisen why that "salient" was regarded of such
vital importance as to induce the two chief commanders to force their
armies into such a hand-to-hand contest that must inevitably result in
unparalleled and wholesale slaughter. It was manifest, however, that Grant
had shown generalship in finding the weak point in Lee's line for attack.
It was imperative that he hold the gain made by his troops. Lee could ill
afford the loss resistance would entail, but he could not withdraw his
army during the day without disaster.

The men on both sides seemed to comprehend the gravity of the situation,
that it was a battle to the death for that little point of entrenchment.
Without urging by officers, and sometimes without officers, they fell into
line and fought and bled and died in myriads as though inspired by some
unseen power. Here men rushed to their doom with shouts of courage and

The pity of it all was manifested by the shocking scene on that
battlefield the next day. Piles of dead lay around the "Bloody Angle," a
veritable "Hell's Hole" on both sides of the entrenchments, four layers
deep in places, shattered and torn by bullets and hoofs and clubbed
muskets, while beneath the layers of dead, it is said, there could be seen
quivering limbs of those who still lived.

General Grant was deeply moved at the terrible loss of life. When he
expressed his regret for the heavy sacrifice of men to General Meade, the
latter replied, "General, we can't do these little tricks without heavy
losses." The total loss to the Union army in killed, wounded, and missing
at Spotsylvania was nearly eighteen thousand. The Confederate losses have
never been positively known, but from the best available sources of
information the number has been placed at not less than nine thousand men.
Lee's loss in high officers was very severe, the killed including General
Daniel and General Perrin, while Generals Walker, Ramseur, R. D. Johnston,
and McGowan were severely wounded. In addition to the loss of these
important commanders, Lee was further crippled in efficient commanders by
the capture of Generals Edward Johnson and Steuart. The Union loss in high
officers was light, excepting General Sedgwick on the 9th. General Webb
was wounded, and Colonel Coon, of the Second Corps, was killed.

Lee's forces had been handled with such consummate skill as to make them
count one almost for two, and there was the spirit of devotion for Lee
among his soldiers which was indeed practically hero-worship. All in all,
he had an army, though shattered and worn, that was almost unconquerable.
Grant found that ordinary methods of war, even such as he had experienced
in the West, were not applicable to the Army of Northern Virginia. The
only hope for the Union army was a long-drawn-out process, and with larger
numbers, better kept, and more often relieved, Grant's army would
ultimately make that of Lee's succumb, from sheer exhaustion and

The battle was not terminated on the 12th. During the next five days there
was a continuous movement of the Union corps to the east which was met by
a corresponding readjustment of the Confederate lines. After various
maneuvers, Hancock was ordered to the point where the battle was fought on
the 12th, and on the 18th and 19th, the last effort was made to break the
lines of the Confederates. Ewell, however, drove the Federals back and the
next day he had a severe engagement with the Union left wing, while
endeavoring to find out something of Grant's plans.

Twelve days of active effort were thus spent in skirmishing, fighting, and
countermarching. In the last two engagements the Union losses were nearly
two thousand, which are included in those before stated. It was decided to
abandon the attempt to dislodge Lee from his entrenchments, and to move
to the North Anna River. On the 20th of May the march was resumed. The men
had suffered great hardships from hunger, exposure, and incessant action,
and many would fall asleep on the line of march.

On the day after the start, Hancock crossed the Mattapony River at one
point and Warren at another. Hancock was ordered to take position on the
right bank and, if practicable, to attack the Confederates wherever found.
By the 22d, Wright and Burnside came up and the march proceeded. But the
vigilant Lee had again detected the plans of his adversary.

Meade's army had barely started in its purpose to turn the Confederates'
flank when the Southern forces were on the way to block the army of the
North. As on the march from the Wilderness to Spotsylvania, Lee's troops
took the shorter route, along main roads, and reached the North Anna ahead
of the Federals. Warren's corps was the first of Meade's army to arrive at
the north bank of the river, which it did on the afternoon of May 23d. Lee
was already on the south bank, but Warren crossed without opposition. No
sooner had he gotten over, however, than he was attacked by the
Confederates and a severe but undecisive engagement followed. The next
morning (the 24th) Hancock and Wright put their troops across at places
some miles apart, and before these two wings of the army could be joined,
Lee made a brilliant stroke by marching in between them, forming a wedge
whose point rested on the bank, opposite the Union center, under Burnside,
which had not yet crossed the river.

The Army of the Potomac was now in three badly separated parts. Burnside
could not get over in sufficient strength to reënforce the wings, and all
attempts by the latter to aid him in so doing met with considerable
disaster. The loss in these engagements approximated two thousand on each

On the 25th, Sheridan and his cavalry rejoined the army. They had been
gone since the 9th and their raid was most successful. Besides the
decisive victory over the Confederate cavalry at Yellow Tavern, they had
destroyed several depots of supplies, four trains of cars, and many miles
of railroad track. Nearly four hundred Federal prisoners on their way to
Richmond had been rescued from their captors. The dashing cavalrymen had
even carried the first line of work around Richmond, and had made a detour
down the James to communicate with General Butler. Grant was highly
satisfied with Sheridan's performance. It had been of the greatest
assistance to him, as it had drawn off the whole of the Confederate
cavalry, and made the guarding of the wagon trains an easy matter.

But here, on the banks of the North Anna, Grant had been completely
checkmated by Lee. He realized this and decided on a new move, although he
still clung to his idea of turning the Confederate right. The Federal
wings were withdrawn to the north side of the river during the night of
May 26th and the whole set in motion for the Pamunkey River at
Hanovertown. Two divisions of Sheridan's cavalry and Warren's corps were
in advance. Lee lost no time in pursuing his great antagonist, but for the
first time the latter was able to hold his lead. Along the Totopotomoy, on
the afternoon of May 28th, infantry and cavalry of both armies met in a
severe engagement in which the strong position of Lee's troops again
foiled Grant's purpose. The Union would have to try at some other point,
and on the 31st Sheridan's cavalry took possession of Cold Harbor. This
was to be the next battle-ground.


Although secure in his fame as the conqueror of Vicksburg, Grant still has
the greater part of his destiny to fulfil as he faces the camera. Before
him lie the Wilderness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, and the slow investment
of Petersburg. This series forms a particularly interesting study in
expression. At the left hand, the face looks almost amused. In the next
the expression is graver, the mouth close set. The third picture looks
plainly obstinate, and in the last the stern fighter might have been
declaring, as in the following spring: "I propose to fight it out on this
line if it takes all summer." The eyes, first unveiled fully in this
fourth view, are the unmistakable index to Grant's stern inflexibility,
once his decision was made.


Here is a furrowed brow above eyes worn by pain. In the pictures of the
previous year the forehead is more smooth, the expression grave yet
confident. Here the expression is that of a man who has won, but won at a
bitter cost. It is the memory of the 50,000 men whom he left in the
Wilderness campaign and at Cold Harbor that has lined this brow, and
closed still tighter this inflexible mouth. Again, as in the series above,
the eyes are not revealed until the last picture. Then again flashes the
determination of a hero. The great general's biographers say that Grant
was a man of sympathy and infinite pity. It was the more difficult for
him, spurred on to the duty by grim necessity, to order forward the lines
in blue that withered, again and again, before the Confederate fire, but
each time weakened the attenuated line which confronted them.



To the right of General Meade, his chief and friend, stands Major-General
John Sedgwick, commanding the Sixth Army Corps. He wears his familiar
round hat and is smiling. He was a great tease; evidently the performances
of the civilian who had brought his new-fangled photographic apparatus
into camp suggested a joke. A couple of months later, on the 9th of May,
Sedgwick again was jesting--before Spotsylvania Court House. McMahon of
his staff had begged him to avoid passing some artillery exposed to the
Confederate fire, to which Sedgwick had playfully replied, "McMahon, I
would like to know who commands this corps, you or I?" Then he ordered
some infantry before him to shift toward the right. Their movement drew
the fire of the Confederates. The lines were close together; the situation
tense. A sharpshooter's bullet whistled--Sedgwick fell. He was taken to
Meade's headquarters. The Army of the Potomac had lost another corps
commander, and the Union a brilliant and courageous soldier.




For miles around this quaint old village-pump surged the lines of two vast
contending armies, May 8-12, 1864. In this picture of only a few months
later, the inhabitants have returned to their accustomed quiet, although
the reverberations of battle have hardly died away. But on May 7th
Generals Grant and Meade, with their staffs, had started toward the little
courthouse. As they passed along the Brock Road in the rear of Hancock's
lines, the men broke into loud hurrahs. They saw that the movement was
still to be southward. But chance had caused Lee to choose the same
objective. Misinterpreting Grant's movement as a retreat upon
Fredericksburg, he sent Longstreet's corps, now commanded by Anderson, to
Spotsylvania. Chance again, in the form of a forest fire, drove Anderson
to make, on the night of May 7th, the march from the Wilderness that he
had been ordered to commence on the morning of the 8th. On that day, while
Warren was contending with the forces of Anderson, Lee's whole army was
entrenching on a ridge around Spotsylvania Court House. "Accident," says
Grant, "often decides the fate of battle." But this "accident" was one of
Lee's master moves.



McCool's house, within the "Bloody Angle." The photographs were taken in
1864, shortly after the struggle of Spotsylvania Court House, and show the
old dwelling as it was on May 12th, when the fighting was at flood tide
all round it; and below, the Confederate entrenchments near that
blood-drenched spot. At a point in these Confederate lines in advance of
the McCool house, the entrenchments had been thrown forward like the
salient of a fort, and the wedge-shaped space within them was destined to
become renowned as the "Bloody Angle." The position was defended by the
famous "Stonewall Division" of the Confederates under command of General
Edward Johnson. It was near the scene of Upton's gallant charge on the
10th. Here at daybreak on May 12th the divisions of the intrepid Barlow
and Birney, sent forward by Hancock, stole a march upon the unsuspecting
Confederates. Leaping over the breastworks the Federals were upon them and
the first of the terrific hand-to-hand conflicts that marked the day
began. It ended in victory for Hancock's men, into whose hands fell 20
cannon, 30 standards and 4,000 prisoners, "the best division in the
Confederate army."


Flushed with success, the Federals pressed on to Lee's second line of
works, where Wilcox's division of the Confederates held them until
reënforcements sent by Lee from Hill and Anderson drove them back. On the
Federal side the Sixth Corps, with Upton's brigade in the advance, was
hurried forward to hold the advantage gained. But Lee himself was on the
scene, and the men of the gallant Gordon's division, pausing long enough
to seize and turn his horse, with shouts of "General Lee in the rear,"
hurtled forward into the conflict. In five separate charges by the
Confederates the fighting came to close quarters. With bayonets, clubbed
muskets, swords and pistols, men fought within two feet of one another on
either side of the entrenchments at "Bloody Angle" till night at last left
it in possession of the Federals. None of the fighting near Spotsylvania
Court House was inglorious. On the 10th, after a day of strengthening
positions on both sides, young Colonel Emory Upton of the 121st New York,
led a storming party of twelve regiments into the strongest of the
Confederate entrenchments. For his bravery Grant made him a
brigadier-general on the field.




The artillery massing in the meadow gives to this view the interest of an
impending tragedy. In the foreground the officers, servants, and orderlies
of the headquarters mess camp are waiting for the command to strike their
tents, pack the wagons, and move on. But at the very time this photograph
was taken they should have been miles away. Grant had issued orders the
day before that should have set these troops in motion. However, the
Confederate General Ewell had chosen the 18th to make an attack on the
right flank. It not only delayed the departure but forced a change in the
intended positions of the division as they had been contemplated by the
commander-in-chief. Beverly House is where General Warren pitched his
headquarters after Spotsylvania, and the spectator is looking toward the
battlefield that lies beyond the distant woods. After Ewell's attack,
Warren again found himself on the right flank, and at this very moment the
main body of the Federal army is passing in the rear of him. The costly
check at Spotsylvania, with its wonderful display of fighting on both
sides, had in its apparently fruitless results called for the display of
all Grant's gifts as a military leader. It takes but little imagination to
supply color to this photograph; it is full of it--full of the movement
and detail of war also. It is springtime; blossoms have just left the
trees and the whole country is green and smiling, but the earth is scarred
by thousands of trampling feet and hoof-prints. Ugly ditches cross the
landscape; the débris of an army marks its onsweep from one battlefield to



These are some of the men for whom waiting women wept--the ones who never
came back. They belonged to Ewell's Corps, who attacked the Federal lines
so gallantly on May 18th. There may be some who will turn from this
picture with a shudder of horror, but it is no morbid curiosity that will
cause them to study it closely. If pictures such as this were familiar
everywhere there would soon be an end of war. We can realize money by
seeing it expressed in figures; we can realize distances by miles, but
some things in their true meaning can only be grasped and impressions
formed with the seeing eye. Visualizing only this small item of the awful
cost--the cost beside which money cuts no figure--an idea can be gained of
what war is. Here is a sermon in the cause of universal peace. The
handsome lad lying with outstretched arms and clinched fingers is a mute
plea. Death has not disfigured him--he lies in an attitude of relaxation
and composure. Perhaps in some Southern home this same face is pictured in
the old family album, alert and full of life and hope, and here is the
end. Does there not come to the mind the insistent question, "Why?" The
Federal soldiers standing in the picture are not thinking of all this, it
may be true, but had they meditated in the way that some may, as they gaze
at this record of death, it would be worth their while. One of the men is
apparently holding a sprig of blossoms in his hand. It is a strange note



It fell to the duty of the First Massachusetts Heavy Artillery of General
Tyler's division to put under ground the men they slew in the sharp battle
of May 18th, and here they are near Mrs. Allsop's barn digging the trench
to hide the dreadful work of bullet and shot and shell. No feeling of
bitterness exists in moments such as these. What soldier in the party
knows but what it may be his turn next to lie beside other lumps of clay
and join his earth-mother in this same fashion in his turn. But men become
used to work of any kind, and these men digging up the warm spring soil,
when their labor is concluded, are neither oppressed nor nerve-shattered
by what they have seen and done. They have lost the power of experiencing
sensation. Senses become numbed in a measure; the value of life itself
from close and constant association with death is minimized almost to the
vanishing point. In half an hour these very men may be singing and
laughing as if war and death were only things to be expected, not reasoned
over in the least.




This redoubt covered Taylor's Bridge, but its flanks were swept by
artillery and an enfilading fire from rifle-pits across the river. Late in
the evening of the 23d, Hancock's corps, arriving before the redoubt, had
assaulted it with two brigades and easily carried it. During the night the
Confederates from the other side made two attacks upon the bridge and
finally succeeded in setting it afire. The flames were extinguished by the
Federals, and on the 24th Hancock's troops crossed over without
opposition. The easy crossing of the Federals here was but another example
of Lee's favorite rule to let his antagonist attack him on the further
side of a stream. Taylor's Bridge could easily have been held by Lee for a
much longer time, but its ready abandonment was part of the tactics by
which Grant was being led into a military dilemma. In the picture the
Federal soldiers confidently hold the captured redoubt, convinced that the
possession of it meant that they had driven Lee to his last corner.

[Illustration: "WALK YOUR HORSES"



The sign posted by the local authorities at Taylor's bridge, where the
Telegraph Road crosses the North Anna, was "Walk your horses." The wooden
structure was referred to by the military as Chesterfield bridge. Here
Hancock's Corps arrived toward evening of May 23d, and the Confederate
entrenchments, showing in the foreground, were seized by the old "Berry
Brigade." In the heat of the charge the Ninety-third New York carried
their colors to the middle of the bridge, driving off the Confederates
before they could destroy it. When the Federals began crossing next day
they had to run the gantlet of musketry and artillery fire from the
opposite bank. Several regiments of New York heavy artillery poured across
the structure at the double-quick with the hostile shells bursting about
their heads. When Captain Sleeper's Eighteenth Massachusetts battery began
crossing, the Confederate cannoneers redoubled their efforts to blow up
the ammunition by well-aimed shots. Sleeper passed over only one piece at
a time in order to diminish the target and enforce the observance of the
local law by walking his horses! The Second Corps got no further than the
ridge beyond, where Lee's strong V formation held it from further



More of the awful toll of 36,000 taken from the Union army during the
terrible Wilderness campaign. The Sanitary Commission is visiting the
field hospital established near the Rappahannock River, a mile or so from
the heights, where lay at the same time the wounded from these terrific
conflicts. Although the work of this Commission was only supplementary
after 1862, they continued to supply many delicacies, and luxuries such as
crutches, which did not form part of the regular medical corps
paraphernalia. The effect of their work can be seen here, and also the
appearance of men after the shock of gunshot wounds. All injuries during
the war practically fell under three headings: incised and punctured
wounds, comprising saber cuts, bayonet stabs, and sword thrusts;
miscellaneous, from falls, blows from blunt weapons, and various
accidents; lastly, and chiefly, gunshot wounds. The war came prior to the
demonstration of the fact that the causes of disease and suppurative
conditions are living organisms of microscopic size. Septicemia,
erysipelas, lockjaw, and gangrene were variously attributed to dampness
and a multitude of other conditions.



This photograph of May 30, 1864, shows the Federal cavalry in actual
operation of a most important function--the "screening" of the army's
movements. The troopers are guarding the evacuation of Port Royal on the
Rappahannock, May 30, 1864. After the reverse to the Union arms at
Spottsylvania, Grant ordered the change of base from the Rappahannock to
McClellan's former starting-point, White House on the Pamunkey. The
control of the waterways, combined with Sheridan's efficient use of the
cavalry, made this an easy matter. Torbert's division encountered Gordon's
brigade of Confederate cavalry at Hanovertown and drove it in the
direction of Hanover Court House. Gregg's division moved up to this line;
Russell's division of infantry encamped near the river-crossing in
support, and behind the mask thus formed the Army of the Potomac crossed
the Pamunkey on May 28th unimpeded. Gregg was then ordered to reconnoiter
towards Mechanicsville, and after a severe fight at Hawes' shop he
succeeded (with the assistance of Custer's brigade) in driving Hampton's
and Fitzhugh Lee's cavalry divisions and Butler's brigade from the field.
Although the battle took place immediately in front of the Federal
infantry, General Meade declined to put the latter into action, and the
battle was won by the cavalry alone. It was not to be the last time.


    Cold Harbor is, I think, the only battle I ever fought that I would
    not fight over again under the circumstances. I have always regretted
    that the last assault at Cold Harbor was ever made.--_General U. S.
    Grant in his "Memoirs."_

According to Grant's well-made plans of march, the various corps of the
Army of the Potomac set out from the banks of the North Anna on the night
of May 26, 1864, at the times and by the routes assigned to them. Early on
the morning of May 27th Lee set his force in motion by the Telegraph road
and such others as were available, across the Little and South Anna rivers
toward Ashland and Atlee's Station on the Virginia Central Railroad.

Thus the armies were stretched like two live wires along the swampy
bottom-lands of eastern Virginia, and as they came in contact, here and
there along the line, there were the inevitable sputterings of flame and
considerable destruction wrought. The advance Federal infantry crossed the
Pamunkey, after the cavalry, at Hanoverstown, early on May 28th. The
Second Corps was close behind the Sixth; the Fifth was over by noon, while
the Ninth, now an integral portion of the Army of the Potomac, passed the
river by midnight.

On the 31st General Sheridan reached Cold Harbor, which Meade had ordered
him to hold at all hazards. This place, probably named after the old home
of some English settler, was not a town but the meeting-place of several
roads of great strategic importance to the Federal army. They led not only
toward Richmond by the way of the upper Chickahominy bridges, but in the
direction of White House Landing, on the Pamunkey River.

Both Lee and Meade had received reënforcements--the former by
Breckinridge, and the scattered forces in western Virginia, and by Pickett
and Hoke from North Carolina. From Bermuda Hundred where General Butler
was "bottled up"--to use a phrase which Grant employed and afterward
regretted--General W. F. Smith was ordered to bring the Eighteenth Corps
of the Army of the James to the assistance of Meade, since Butler could
defend his position perfectly well with a small force, and could make no
headway against Beauregard with a large one. Grant had now nearly one
hundred and fourteen thousand troops and Lee about eighty thousand.

Sheridan's appearance at Cold Harbor was resented in vain by Fitzhugh Lee,
and the next morning, June 1st, the Sixth Corps arrived, followed by
General Smith and ten thousand men of the Eighteenth, who had hastened
from the landing-place at White House. These took position on the right of
the Sixth, and the Federal line was promptly faced by Longstreet's corps,
a part of A. P. Hill's, and the divisions of Hoke and Breckinridge. At six
o'clock in the afternoon Wright and Smith advanced to the attack, which
Hoke and Kershaw received with courage and determination. The Confederate
line was broken in several places, but before night checked the struggle
the Southerners had in some degree regained their position. The short
contest was a severe one for the Federal side. Wright lost about twelve
hundred men and Smith one thousand.

The following day the final dispositions were made for the mighty struggle
that would decide Grant's last chance to interpose between Lee and
Richmond. Hancock and the Second Corps arrived at Cold Harbor and took
position on the left of General Wright. Burnside, with the Ninth Corps,
was placed near Bethesda Church on the road to Mechanicsville, while
Warren, with the Fifth, came to his left and connected with Smith's right.
Sheridan was sent to hold the lower Chickahominy bridges and to cover the
road to White House, which was now the base of supplies. On the Southern
side Ewell's corps, now commanded by General Early, faced Burnside's and
Warren's. Longstreet's corps, still under Anderson, was opposite Wright
and Smith, while A. P. Hill, on the extreme right, confronted Hancock.
There was sharp fighting during the entire day, but Early did not succeed
in getting upon the Federal right flank, as he attempted to do.

Both armies lay very close to each other and were well entrenched. Lee was
naturally strong on his right, and his left was difficult of access, since
it must be approached through wooded swamps. Well-placed batteries made
artillery fire from front and both flanks possible, but Grant decided to
attack the whole Confederate front, and word was sent to the corps
commanders to assault at half-past four the following morning.

The hot sultry weather of the preceding days had brought much suffering.
The movement of troops and wagons raised clouds of dust which settled down
upon the sweltering men and beasts. But five o'clock on the afternoon of
June 2d brought the grateful rain, and this continued during the night,
giving great relief to the exhausted troops.

At the hour designated the Federal lines moved promptly from their shallow
rifle-pits toward the Confederate works. The main assault was made by the
Second, Sixth, and Eighteenth corps. With determined and firm step they
started to cross the space between the opposing entrenchments. The silence
of the dawning summer morning was broken by the screams of musket-ball and
canister and shell. That move of the Federal battle-line opened the fiery
furnace across the intervening space, which was, in the next instant, a
Vesuvius, pouring tons and tons of steel and lead into the moving human
mass. From front, from right and left, artillery crashed and swept the
field, musketry and grape hewed and mangled and mowed down the line of
blue as it moved on its approach.

Meade issued orders for the suspension of all further offensive

A word remains to be said as to fortunes of Burnside's and Warren's
forces, which were on the Federal right. Generals Potter and Willcox of
the Ninth Corps made a quick capture of Early's advanced rifle-pits and
were waiting for the order to advance on his main entrenchments, when the
order of suspension arrived. Early fell upon him later in the day but was
repulsed. Warren, on the left of Burnside, drove Rodes' division back and
repulsed Gordon's brigade, which had attacked him. The commander of the
Fifth Corps reported that his line was too extended for further operations
and Birney's division was sent from the Second Corps to his left. But by
the time this got into position the battle of Cold Harbor was practically

The losses to the Federal army in this battle and the engagements which
preceded it were over seventeen thousand, while the Confederate loss did
not exceed one-fifth of that number. Grant had failed in his plan to
destroy Lee north of the James River, and saw that he must now cross it.

Thirty days had passed in the campaign since the Wilderness and the grand
total in losses to Grant's army in killed, wounded, and missing was
54,929. The losses in Lee's army were never accurately given, but they
were very much less in proportion to the numerical strength of the two
armies. If Grant had inflicted punishment upon his foe equal to that
suffered by the Federal forces, Lee's army would have been practically

The Federal general-in-chief had decided to secure Petersburg and confront
Lee once more. General Gillmore was sent by Butler, with cavalry and
infantry, on June 10th to make the capture, but was unsuccessful.
Thereupon General Smith and the Eighteenth Corps were despatched to White
House Landing to go forward by water and reach Petersburg before Lee had
time to reënforce it.



Between these luxuriant banks stretch the pontoons and bridges to
facilitate the rapid crossing of the North Anna by Hancock's Corps on May
24th. Thus was completed the passage to the south of the stream of the two
wings of the Army of the Potomac. But when the center under Burnside was
driven back and severely handled at Ox Ford, Grant immediately detached a
brigade each from Hancock and Warren to attack the apex of Lee's wedge on
the south bank of the river, but the position was too strong to justify
the attempt. Then it dawned upon the Federal general-in-chief that Lee had
cleaved the Army of the Potomac into two separated bodies. To reënforce
either wing would require two crossings of the river, while Lee could
quickly march troops from one side to the other within his impregnable
wedge. As Grant put it in his report, "To make a direct attack from either
wing would cause a slaughter of our men that even success would not



The End of the Gray Line at Cold Harbor. Here at the extreme left of the
Confederate lines at Cold Harbor is an example of the crude protection
resorted to by the soldiers on both sides in advance or retreat. A
momentary lull in the battle was invariably employed in strengthening each
position. Trees were felled under fire, and fence rails gathered quickly
were piled up to make possible another stand. The space between the lines
at Cold Harbor was so narrow at many points as to resemble a road,
encumbered with the dead and wounded. This extraordinary proximity induced
a nervous alertness which made the troops peculiarly sensitive to night
alarms; even small parties searching quietly for wounded comrades might
begin a panic. A few scattering shots were often enough to start a heavy
and continuous musketry fire and a roar of artillery along the entire
line. It was a favorite ruse of the Federal soldiers to aim their muskets
carefully to clear the top of the Confederate breastworks and then set up
a great shout. The Confederates, deceived into the belief that an attack
was coming, would spring up and expose themselves to the well-directed
volley which thinned their ranks.




The battle of Cold Harbor on June 3d was the third tremendous engagement
of Grant's campaign against Richmond within a month. It was also his
costliest onset on Lee's veteran army. Grant had risked much in his change
of base to the James in order to bring him nearer to Richmond and to the
friendly hand which Butler with the Army of the James was in a position to
reach out to him. Lee had again confronted him, entrenching himself but
six miles from the outworks of Richmond, while the Chickahominy cut off
any further flanking movement. There was nothing to do but fight it out,
and Grant ordered an attack all along the line. On June 3d he hurled the
Army of the Potomac against the inferior numbers of Lee, and in a brave
assault upon the Confederate entrenchments, lost ten thousand men in
twenty minutes.



Grant's assault at Cold Harbor was marked by the gallantry of General
Hancock's division and of the brigades of Gibbon and Barlow, who on the
left of the Federal line charged up the ascent in their front upon the
concentrated artillery of the Confederates; they took the position and
held it for a moment under a galling fire, which finally drove them back,
but not until they had captured a flag and three hundred prisoners. The
battle was substantially over by half-past seven in the morning, but
sullen fighting continued throughout the day. About noontime General
Grant, who had visited all the corps commanders to see for himself the
positions gained and what could be done, concluded that the Confederates
were too strongly entrenched to be dislodged and ordered that further
offensive action should cease. All the next day the dead and wounded lay
on the field uncared for while both armies warily watched each other. The
lower picture was taken during this weary wait. Not till the 7th was a
satisfactory truce arranged, and then all but two of the wounded Federals
had died. No wonder that Grant wrote, "I have always regretted that the
last assault at Cold Harbor was ever made."



City Point, just after its capture by Butler. From June, 1864, until
April, 1865, City Point, at the juncture of the Appomattox and the James,
was a point of entry and departure for more vessels than any city of the
South including even New Orleans in times of peace. Here landed supplies
that kept an army numbering, with fighting force and supernumeraries,
nearly one hundred and twenty thousand well-supplied, well-fed,
well-contented, and well-munitioned men in the field. This was the
marvelous base--safe from attack, secure from molestation. It was meals
and money that won at Petersburg, the bravery of full stomachs and
warm-clothed bodies against the desperation of starved and shivering
outnumbered men. A glance at this picture tells the story. There is no
need of rehearsing charges, countercharges, mines, and counter-mines. Here
lies the reason--Petersburg had to fall. As we look back with a
retrospective eye on this scene of plenty and abundance, well may the
American heart be proud that only a few miles away were men of their own
blood enduring the hardships that the defenders of Petersburg suffered in
the last campaign of starvation against numbers and plenty.



Charles City Court House on the James River, June 14, 1864. It was with
infinite relief that Grant saw the advance of the Army of the Potomac
reach this point on June 14th. His last flanking movement was an extremely
hazardous one. More than fifty miles intervened between him and Butler by
the roads he would have to travel, and he had to cross both the
Chickahominy and the James, which were unbridged. The paramount difficulty
was to get the Army of the Potomac out of its position before Lee, who
confronted it at Cold Harbor. Lee had the shorter line and better roads to
move over and meet Grant at the Chickahominy, or he might, if he chose,
descend rapidly on Butler and crush him before Grant could unite with him.
"But," says Grant, "the move had to be made, and I relied upon Lee's not
seeing my danger as I saw it." Near the old Charles City Court House the
crossing of the James was successfully accomplished, and on the 14th Grant
took steamer and ran up the river to Bermuda Hundred to see General Butler
and direct the movement against Petersburg, that began the final
investment of that city.

[Illustration: THE MONITOR IN A STORM.

_Painted by Robert Hopkin._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    Johnston was an officer who, by the common consent of the military men
    of both sides, was reckoned second only to Lee, if second, in the
    qualities which fit an officer for the responsibility of great
    commands.... He practised a lynx-eyed watchfulness of his adversary,
    tempting him constantly to assault his entrenchments, holding his
    fortified positions to the last moment, but choosing that last moment
    so well as to save nearly every gun and wagon in the final withdrawal,
    and always presenting a front covered by such defenses that one man in
    the line was, by all sound military rules, equal to three or four in
    the attack. In this way he constantly neutralized the superiority of
    force his opponent wielded, and made his campaign from Dalton to the
    Chattahoochee a model of defensive warfare. It is Sherman's glory
    that, with a totally different temperament, he accepted his
    adversary's game, and played it with a skill that was finally
    successful, as we shall see.--_Major-General Jacob D. Cox, U. S. V.,
    in "Atlanta."_

The two leading Federal generals of the war, Grant and Sherman, met at
Nashville, Tennessee, on March 17, 1864, and arranged for a great
concerted double movement against the two main Southern armies, the Army
of Northern Virginia and the Army of Tennessee. Grant, who had been made
commander of all the Federal armies, was to take personal charge of the
Army of the Potomac and move against Lee, while to Sherman, whom, at
Grant's request, President Lincoln had placed at the head of the Military
Division of the Mississippi, he turned over the Western army, which was to
proceed against Johnston.

It was decided, moreover, that the two movements were to be simultaneous
and that they were to begin early in May. Sherman concentrated his forces
around Chattanooga on the Tennessee River, where the Army of the
Cumberland had spent the winter, and where a decisive battle had been
fought some months before, in the autumn of 1863. His army was composed of
three parts, or, more properly, of three armies operating in concert.
These were the Army of the Tennessee, led by General James B. McPherson;
the Army of Ohio, under General John M. Schofield, and the Army of the
Cumberland, commanded by General George H. Thomas. The last named was much
larger than the other two combined. The triple army aggregated the grand
total of ninety-nine thousand men, six thousand of whom were cavalrymen,
while four thousand four hundred and sixty belonged to the artillery.
There were two hundred and fifty-four heavy guns.

Soon to be pitted against Sherman's army was that of General Joseph E.
Johnston, which had spent the winter at Dalton, in the State of Georgia,
some thirty miles southeast of Chattanooga. It was by chance that Dalton
became the winter quarters of the Confederate army. In the preceding
autumn, when General Bragg had been defeated on Missionary Ridge and
driven from the vicinity of Chattanooga, he retreated to Dalton and
stopped for a night's rest. Discovering the next morning that he was not
pursued, he there remained. Some time later he was superseded by General

By telegraph, General Sherman was apprised of the time when Grant was to
move upon Lee on the banks of the Rapidan, in Virginia, and he prepared to
move his own army at the same time. But he was two days behind Grant, who
began his Virginia campaign on May 4th. Sherman broke camp on the 6th and
led his legions across hill and valley, forest and stream, toward the
Confederate stronghold. Nature was all abloom with the opening of a
Southern spring and the soldiers, who had long chafed under their enforced
idleness, now rejoiced at the exhilarating journey before them, though
their mission was to be one of strife and bloodshed.

Johnston's army numbered about fifty-three thousand, and was divided into
two corps, under the respective commands of Generals John B. Hood and
William J. Hardee. But General Polk was on his way to join them, and in a
few days Johnston had in the neighborhood of seventy thousand men. His
position at Dalton was too strong to be carried by a front attack, and
Sherman was too wise to attempt it. Leaving Thomas and Schofield to make a
feint at Johnston's front, Sherman sent McPherson on a flanking movement
by the right to occupy Snake Creek Gap, a mountain pass near Resaca, which
is about eighteen miles below Dalton.

Sherman, with the main part of the army, soon occupied Tunnel Hill, which
faces Rocky Face Ridge, an eastern range of the Cumberland Mountains,
north of Dalton, on which a large part of Johnston's army was posted. The
Federal leader had little or no hope of dislodging his great antagonist
from this impregnable position, fortified by rocks and cliffs which no
army could scale while under fire. But he ordered that demonstrations be
made at several places, especially at a pass known as Rocky Face Gap. This
was done with great spirit and bravery, the men clambering over rocks and
across ravines in the face of showers of bullets and even of masses of
stone hurled down from the heights above them. On the whole they won but
little advantage.

During the 8th and 9th of May, these operations were continued, the
Federals making but little impression on the Confederate stronghold.
Meanwhile, on the Dalton road there was a sharp cavalry fight, the Federal
commander, General E. M. McCook, having encountered General Wheeler.
McCook's advance brigade under Colonel La Grange was defeated and La
Grange was made prisoner.

Sherman's chief object in these demonstrations, it will be seen, was so to
engage Johnston as to prevent his intercepting McPherson in the latter's
movement upon Resaca. In this Sherman was successful, and by the 11th he
was giving his whole energy to moving the remainder of his forces by the
right flank, as McPherson had done, to Resaca, leaving a detachment of
General O. O. Howard's Fourth Corps to occupy Dalton when evacuated. When
Johnston discovered this, he was quick to see that he must abandon his
entrenchments and intercept Sherman. Moving by the only two good roads,
Johnston beat Sherman in the race to Resaca. The town had been fortified,
owing to Johnston's foresight, and McPherson had failed to dislodge the
garrison and capture it. The Confederate army was now settled behind its
entrenchments, occupying a semicircle of low wooded hills, both flanks of
the army resting on the banks of the Oostenaula River.

On the morning of May 14th, the Confederate works were invested by the
greater part of Sherman's army and it was evident that a battle was
imminent. The attack was begun about noon, chiefly by the Fourteenth Army
Corps under Palmer, of Thomas' army, and Judah's division of Schofield's.
General Hindman's division of Hood's corps bore the brunt of this attack
and there was heavy loss on both sides. Later in the day, a portion of
Hood's corps was massed in a heavy column and hurled against the Federal
left, driving it back. But at this point the Twentieth Army Corps under
Hooker, of Thomas' army, dashed against the advancing Confederates and
pushed them back to their former lines.

The forenoon of the next day was spent in heavy skirmishing, which grew to
the dignity of a battle. During the day's operations a hard fight for a
Confederate lunette on the top of a low hill occurred. At length, General
Butterfield, in the face of a galling fire, succeeded in capturing the
position. But so deadly was the fire from Hardee's corps that Butterfield
was unable to hold it or to remove the four guns the lunette contained.

With the coming of night, General Johnston determined to withdraw his army
from Resaca. The battle had cost each army nearly three thousand men.
While it was in progress, McPherson, sent by Sherman, had deftly marched
around Johnston's left with the view of cutting off his retreat south by
seizing the bridges across the Oostenaula, and at the same time the
Federal cavalry was threatening the railroad to Atlanta which ran beyond
the river. It was the knowledge of these facts that determined the
Confederate commander to abandon Resaca. Withdrawing during the night, he
led his army southward to the banks of the Etowah River. Sherman followed
but a few miles behind him. At the same time Sherman sent a division of
the Army of the Cumberland, under General Jeff. C. Davis, to Rome, at the
junction of the Etowah and the Oostenaula, where there were important
machine-shops and factories. Davis captured the town and several heavy
guns, destroyed the factories, and left a garrison to hold it.

Sherman was eager for a battle in the open with Johnston and on the 17th,
near the town of Adairsville, it seemed as if the latter would gratify
him. Johnston chose a good position, posted his cavalry, deployed his
infantry, and awaited combat. The Union army was at hand. The skirmishing
for some hours almost amounted to a battle. But suddenly Johnston decided
to defer a conclusive contest to another time.

Again at Cassville, a few days later, Johnston drew up the Confederate
legions in battle array, evidently having decided on a general engagement
at this point. He issued a spirited address to the army: "By your courage
and skill you have repulsed every assault of the enemy.... You will now
turn and march to meet his advancing columns.... I lead you to battle."
But, when his right flank had been turned by a Federal attack, and when
two of his corps commanders, Hood and Polk, advised against a general
battle, Johnston again decided on postponement. He retreated in the night
across the Etowah, destroyed the bridges, and took a strong position among
the rugged hills about Allatoona Pass, extending south to Kenesaw

Johnston's decision to fight and then not to fight was a cause for
grumbling both on the part of his army and of the inhabitants of the
region through which he was passing. His men were eager to defend their
country, and they could not understand this Fabian policy. They would have
preferred defeat to these repeated retreats with no opportunity to show
what they could do.

Johnston, however, was wiser than his critics. The Union army was larger
by far and better equipped than his own, and Sherman was a
master-strategist. His hopes rested on two or three contingencies that he
might catch a portion of Sherman's army separated from the rest; that
Sherman would be so weakened by the necessity of guarding the long line of
railroad to his base of supplies at Chattanooga, Nashville, and even
far-away Louisville, as to make it possible to defeat him in open battle,
or, finally, that Sherman might fall into the trap of making a direct
attack while Johnston was in an impregnable position, and in such a
situation he now was.

Not yet, however, was Sherman inclined to fall into such a trap, and when
Johnston took his strong position at and beyond Allatoona Pass, the
Northern commander decided, after resting his army for a few days, to move
toward Atlanta by way of Dallas, southwest of the pass. Rations for a
twenty days' absence from direct railroad communication were issued to the
Federal army. In fact, Sherman's railroad connection with the North was
the one delicate problem of the whole movement. The Confederates had
destroyed the iron way as they moved southward; but the Federal engineers,
following the army, repaired the line and rebuilt the bridges almost as
fast as the army could march.

Sherman's movement toward Dallas drew Johnston from the slopes of the
Allatoona Hills. From Kingston, the Federal leader wrote on May 23d, "I am
already within fifty miles of Atlanta." But he was not to enter that city
for many weeks, not before he had measured swords again and again with his
great antagonist. On the 25th of May, the two great armies were facing
each other near New Hope Church, about four miles north of Dallas. Here,
for three or four days, there was almost incessant fighting, though there
was not what might be called a pitched battle.

Late in the afternoon of the first day, Hooker made a vicious attack on
Stewart's division of Hood's corps. For two hours the battle raged without
a moment's cessation, Hooker being pressed back with heavy loss. During
those two hours he had held his ground against sixteen field-pieces and
five thousand infantry at close range. The name "Hell Hole" was applied to
this spot by the Union soldiers.

On the next day there was considerable skirmishing in different places
along the line that divided the two armies. But the chief labor of the day
was throwing up entrenchments, preparatory to a general engagement. The
country, however, was ill fitted for such a contest. The continuous
succession of hills, covered with primeval forests, presented little
opportunity for two great armies, stretched out almost from Dallas to
Marietta, a distance of about ten miles, to come together simultaneously
at all points.

A severe contest occurred on the 27th, near the center of the
battle-lines, between General O. O. Howard on the Federal side and General
Patrick Cleburne on the part of the South. Dense and almost impenetrable
was the undergrowth through which Howard led his troops to make the
attack. The fight was at close range and was fierce and bloody, the
Confederates gaining the greater advantage.

The next day Johnston made a terrific attack on the Union right, under
McPherson, near Dallas. But McPherson was well entrenched and the
Confederates were repulsed with a serious loss. In the three or four days'
fighting the Federal loss was probably twenty-four hundred men and the
Confederate somewhat greater.

In the early days of June, Sherman took possession of the town of
Allatoona and made it a second base of supplies, after repairing the
railroad bridge across the Etowah River. Johnston swung his left around to
Lost Mountain and his right extended beyond the railroad--a line ten miles
in length and much too long for its numbers. Johnston's army, however, had
been reënforced, and it now numbered about seventy-five thousand men.
Sherman, on June 1st, had nearly one hundred and thirteen thousand men and
on the 8th he received the addition of a cavalry brigade and two divisions
of the Seventeenth Corps, under General Frank P. Blair, which had marched
from Alabama.

So multifarious were the movements of the two great armies among the hills
and forests of that part of Georgia that it is impossible for us to follow
them all. On the 14th of June, Generals Johnston, Hardee, and Polk rode up
the slope of Pine Mountain to reconnoiter. As they were standing, making
observations, a Federal battery in the distance opened on them and General
Polk was struck in the chest with a Parrot shell. He was killed instantly.

General Polk was greatly beloved, and his death caused a shock to the
whole Confederate army. He was a graduate of West Point; but after being
graduated he took orders in the church and for twenty years before the war
was Episcopal Bishop of Louisiana. At the outbreak of the war he entered
the field and served with distinction to the moment of his death.

During the next two weeks there was almost incessant fighting, heavy
skirmishing, sparring for position. It was a wonderful game of military
strategy, played among the hills and mountains and forests by two masters
in the art of war. On June 23d, Sherman wrote, "The whole country is one
vast fort, and Johnston must have full fifty miles of connected
trenches.... Our lines are now in close contact, and the fighting
incessant.... As fast as we gain one position, the enemy has another all

Sherman, conscious of superior strength, was now anxious for a real
battle, a fight to the finish with his antagonist. But Johnston was too
wily to be thus caught. He made no false move on the great chessboard of
war. At length, the impatient Sherman decided to make a general front
attack, even though Johnston, at that moment, was impregnably entrenched
on the slopes of Kenesaw Mountain. This was precisely what the Confederate
commander was hoping for.

The desperate battle of Kenesaw Mountain occurred on the 27th of June. In
the early morning hours, the boom of Federal cannon announced the opening
of a bloody day's struggle. It was soon answered by the Confederate
batteries in the entrenchments along the mountain side, and the deafening
roar of the giant conflict reverberated from the surrounding hills. About
nine o'clock the Union infantry advance began. On the left was McPherson,
who sent the Fifteenth Army Corps, led by General John A. Logan, directly
against the mountain. The artillery from the Confederate trenches in front
of Logan cut down his men by hundreds. The Federals charged courageously
and captured the lower works, but failed to take the higher ridges.

The chief assault of the day was by the Army of the Cumberland, under
Thomas. Most conspicuous in the attack were the divisions of Newton and
Davis, advancing against General Loring, successor of the lamented Polk.
Far up on a ridge at one point, General Cleburne held a line of
breastworks, supported by the flanking fire of artillery. Against this a
vain and costly assault was made.

When the word was given to charge, the Federals sprang forward and, in the
face of a deadly hail of musket-balls and shells, they dashed up the
slope, firing as they went. Stunned and bleeding, they were checked again
and again by the withering fire from the mountain slope; but they
re-formed and pressed on with dauntless valor. Some of them reached the
parapets and were instantly shot down, their bodies rolling into the
Confederate trenches among the men who had slain them, or back down the
hill whence they had come. General Harker, leading a charge against
Cleburne, was mortally wounded. His men were swept back by a galling fire,
though many fell with their brave leader.

This assault on Kenesaw Mountain cost Sherman three thousand men and won
him nothing. Johnston's loss probably exceeded five hundred. The battle
continued but two and a half hours. It was one of the most recklessly
daring assaults during the whole war period, but did not greatly affect
the final result of the campaign.

Under a flag of truce, on the day after the battle, the men of the North
and of the South met on the gory field to bury their dead and to minister
to the wounded. They met as friends for the moment, and not as foes. It
was said that there were instances of father and son, one in blue and the
other in gray, and brothers on opposite sides, meeting one another on the
bloody slopes of Kenesaw. Tennessee and Kentucky had sent thousands of men
to each side in the fratricidal struggle and not infrequently families had
been divided.

Three weeks of almost incessant rain fell upon the struggling armies
during this time, rendering their operations disagreeable and
unsatisfactory. The camp equipage, the men's uniforms and accouterments
were thoroughly saturated with rain and mud. Still the warriors of the
North and of the South lived and fought on the slopes of the mountain
range, intent on destroying each other.

Sherman was convinced by his drastic repulse at Kenesaw Mountain that
success lay not in attacking his great antagonist in a strong position,
and he resumed his old tactics. He would flank Johnston from Kenesaw as he
had flanked him out of Dalton and Allatoona Pass. He thereupon turned upon
Johnston's line of communication with Atlanta, whence the latter received
his supplies. The movement was successful, and in a few days Kenesaw
Mountain was deserted.

Johnston moved to the banks of the Chattahoochee, Sherman following in
the hope of catching him while crossing the river. But the wary
Confederate had again, as at Resaca, prepared entrenchments in advance,
and these were on the north bank of the river. He hastened to them, then
turned on the approaching Federals and defiantly awaited attack. But
Sherman remembered Kenesaw and there was no battle.

The feints, the sparring, the flanking movements among the hills and
forests continued day after day. The immediate aim in the early days of
July was to cross the Chattahoochee. On the 8th, Sherman sent Schofield
and McPherson across, ten miles or more above the Confederate position.
Johnston crossed the next day. Thomas followed later.

Sherman's position was by no means reassuring. It is true he had, in the
space of two months, pressed his antagonist back inch by inch for more
than a hundred miles and was now almost within sight of the goal of the
campaign--the city of Atlanta. But the single line of railroad that
connected him with the North and brought supplies from Louisville, five
hundred miles away, for a hundred thousand men and twenty-three thousand
animals, might at any moment be destroyed by Confederate raiders.

The necessity of guarding the Western and Atlantic Railroad was an
ever-present concern with Sherman. Forrest and his cavalry force were in
northern Mississippi waiting for him to get far enough on the way to
Atlanta for them to pounce upon the iron way and tear it to ruins. To
prevent this General Samuel D. Sturgis, with eight thousand troops, was
sent from Memphis against Forrest. He met him on the 10th of June near
Guntown, Mississippi, but was sadly beaten and driven back to Memphis, one
hundred miles away. The affair, nevertheless, delayed Forrest in his
operations against the railroad, and meanwhile General Smith's troops
returned to Memphis from the Red River expedition, somewhat late according
to the schedule but eager to join Sherman in the advance on Atlanta.
Smith, however, was directed to take the offensive against Forrest, and
with fourteen thousand troops, and in a three days' fight, demoralized him
badly at Tupelo, Mississippi, July 14th-17th. Smith returned to Memphis
and made another start for Sherman, when he was suddenly turned back and
sent to Missouri, where the Confederate General Price was extremely
active, to help Rosecrans.

To avoid final defeat and to win the ground he had gained had taxed
Sherman's powers to the last degree and was made possible only through his
superior numbers. Even this degree of success could not be expected to
continue if the railroad to the North should be destroyed. But Sherman
must do more than he had done; he must capture Atlanta, this Richmond of
the far South, with its cannon foundries and its great machine-shops, its
military factories, and extensive army supplies. He must divide the
Confederacy north and south as Grant's capture of Vicksburg had split it
east and west.

Sherman must have Atlanta, for political reasons as well as for military
purposes. The country was in the midst of a presidential campaign. The
opposition to Lincoln's reëlection was strong, and for many weeks it was
believed on all sides that his defeat was inevitable. At least, the
success of the Union arms in the field was deemed essential to Lincoln's
success at the polls. Grant had made little progress in Virginia and his
terrible repulse at Cold Harbor, in June, had cast a gloom over every
Northern State. Farragut was operating in Mobile Bay; but his success was
still in the future.

The eyes of the supporters of the great war-president turned longingly,
expectantly, toward General Sherman and his hundred thousand men before
Atlanta. "Do something--something spectacular--save the party and save the
country thereby from permanent disruption!" This was the cry of the
millions, and Sherman understood it. But withal, the capture of the
Georgia city may have been doubtful but for the fact that at the critical
moment the Confederate President made a decision that resulted,
unconsciously, in a decided service to the Union cause. He dismissed
General Johnston and put another in his place, one who was less strategic
and more impulsive.

Jefferson Davis did not agree with General Johnston's military judgment,
and he seized on the fact that Johnston had so steadily retreated before
the Northern army as an excuse for his removal. On the 18th of July, Davis
turned the Confederate Army of Tennessee over to General John B. Hood. A
graduate of West Point of the class of 1853, a classmate of McPherson,
Schofield, and Sheridan, Hood had faithfully served the cause of the South
since the opening of the war. He was known as a fighter, and it was
believed that he would change the policy of Johnston to one of open battle
with Sherman's army. And so it proved.

Johnston had lost, since the opening of the campaign at Dalton, about
fifteen thousand men, and the army that he now delivered to Hood consisted
of about sixty thousand in all.

While Hood was no match for Sherman as a strategist, he was not a
weakling. His policy of aggression, however, was not suited to the
circumstances--to the nature of the country--in view of the fact that
Sherman's army was far stronger than his own.

Two days after Hood took command of the Confederate army he offered
battle. Sherman's forces had crossed Peach Tree Creek, a small stream
flowing into the Chattahoochee, but a few miles from Atlanta, and were
approaching the city. They had thrown up slight breastworks, as was their
custom, but were not expecting an attack. Suddenly, however, about four
o'clock in the afternoon of July 20th, an imposing column of Confederates
burst from the woods near the position of the Union right center, under
Thomas. The Federals were soon at their guns. The battle was short,
fierce, and bloody. The Confederates made a gallant assault, but were
pressed back to their entrenchments, leaving the ground covered with dead
and wounded. The Federal loss in the battle of Peach Tree Creek was
placed at over seventeen hundred, the Confederate loss being much greater.
This battle had been planned by Johnston before his removal, but he had
been waiting for the strategic moment to fight it.

Two days later, July 22d, occurred the greatest engagement of the entire
campaign--the battle of Atlanta. The Federal army was closing in on the
entrenchments of Atlanta, and was now within two or three miles of the
city. On the night of the 21st, General Blair, of McPherson's army, had
gained possession of a high hill on the left, which commanded a view of
the heart of the city. Hood thereupon planned to recapture this hill, and
make a general attack on the morning of the 22d. He sent General Hardee on
a long night march around the extreme flank of McPherson's army, the
attack to be made at daybreak. Meantime, General Cheatham, who had
succeeded to the command of Hood's former corps, and General A. P.
Stewart, who now had Polk's corps, were to engage Thomas and Schofield in
front and thus prevent them from sending aid to McPherson.

Hardee was delayed in his fifteen-mile night march, and it was noon before
he attacked. At about that hour Generals Sherman and McPherson sat talking
near the Howard house, which was the Federal headquarters, when the sudden
boom of artillery from beyond the hill that Blair had captured announced
the opening of the coming battle. McPherson quickly leaped upon his horse
and galloped away toward the sound of the guns. Meeting Logan and Blair
near the railroad, he conferred with them for a moment, when they
separated, and each hastened to his place in the battle-line. McPherson
sent aides and orderlies in various directions with despatches, until but
two were still with him. He then rode into a forest and was suddenly
confronted by a portion of the Confederate army under General Cheatham.
"Surrender," was the call that rang out. But he wheeled his horse as if to
flee, when he was instantly shot dead, and the horse galloped back

The death of the brilliant, dashing young leader, James B. McPherson, was
a great blow to the Union army. But thirty-six years of age, one of the
most promising men in the country, and already the commander of a military
department, McPherson was the only man in all the Western armies whom
Grant, on going to the East, placed in the same military class with

Logan succeeded the fallen commander, and the battle raged on. The
Confederates were gaining headway. They captured several guns. Cheatham
was pressing on, pouring volley after volley into the ranks of the Army of
the Tennessee, which seemed about to be cut in twain. A gap was opening.
The Confederates were pouring through. General Sherman was present and saw
the danger. Calling for Schofield to send several batteries, he placed
them and poured a concentrated artillery fire through the gap and mowed
down the advancing men in swaths. At the same time, Logan pressed forward
and Schofield's infantry was called up. The Confederates were hurled back
with great loss. The shadows of night fell--and the battle of Atlanta was
over. Hood's losses exceeded eight thousand of his brave men, whom he
could ill spare. Sherman lost about thirty-seven hundred.

The Confederate army recuperated within the defenses of Atlanta--behind an
almost impregnable barricade. Sherman had no hope of carrying the city by
assault, while to surround and invest it was impossible with his numbers.
He determined, therefore, to strike Hood's lines of supplies. On July
28th, Hood again sent Hardee out from his entrenchments to attack the Army
of the Tennessee, now under the command of General Howard. A fierce battle
at Ezra Church on the west side of the city ensued, and again the
Confederates were defeated with heavy loss.

A month passed and Sherman had made little progress toward capturing
Atlanta. Two cavalry raids which he organized resulted in defeat, but the
two railroads from the south into Atlanta were considerably damaged. But,
late in August, the Northern commander made a daring move that proved
successful. Leaving his base of supplies, as Grant had done before
Vicksburg, and marching toward Jonesboro, Sherman destroyed the Macon and
Western Railroad, the only remaining line of supplies to the Confederate

Hood attempted to block the march on Jonesboro, and Hardee was sent with
his and S. D. Lee's Corps to attack the Federals, while he himself sought
an opportunity to move upon Sherman's right flank. Hardee's attack failed,
and this necessitated the evacuation of Atlanta. After blowing up his
magazines and destroying the supplies which his men could not carry with
them, Hood abandoned the city, and the next day, September 2d, General
Slocum, having succeeded Hooker, led the Twentieth Corps of the Federal
army within its earthen walls. Hood had made his escape, saving his army
from capture. His chief desire would have been to march directly north on
Marietta and destroy the depots of Federal supplies, but a matter of more
importance prevented. Thirty-four thousand Union prisoners were confined
at Andersonville, and a small body of cavalry could have released them. So
Hood placed himself between Andersonville and Sherman.

In the early days of September the Federal hosts occupied the city toward
which they had toiled all the summer long. At East Point, Atlanta, and
Decatur, the three armies settled for a brief rest, while the cavalry,
stretched for many miles along the Chattahoochee, protected their flanks
and rear. Since May their ranks had been depleted by some twenty-eight
thousand killed and wounded, while nearly four thousand had fallen
prisoners, into the Confederates' hands.

It was a great price, but whatever else the capture of Atlanta did, it
ensured the reëlection of Abraham Lincoln to the presidency of the United
States. The total Confederate losses were in the neighborhood of
thirty-five thousand, of which thirteen thousand were prisoners.

[Illustration: SHERMAN IN 1865


If Sherman was deemed merciless in war, he was superbly generous when the
fighting was over. To Joseph E. Johnston he offered most liberal terms of
surrender for the Southern armies. Their acceptance would have gone far to
prevent the worst of the reconstruction enormities. Unfortunately his
first convention with Johnston was disapproved. The death of Lincoln had
removed the guiding hand that would have meant so much to the nation. To
those who have read his published correspondence and his memoirs Sherman
appears in a very human light. He was fluent and frequently reckless in
speech and writing, but his kindly humanity is seen in both.

[Illustration: BUZZARD'S ROOST, GEORGIA, MAY 7, 1864]

In the upper picture rises the precipitous height of Rocky Face as Sherman
saw it on May 7, 1864. His troops under Thomas had moved forward along the
line of the railroad, opening the great Atlanta campaign on schedule time.
Looking down into the gorge called Buzzard's Roost, through which the
railroad passes, Sherman could see swarms of Confederate troops, the road
filled with obstructions, and hostile batteries crowning the cliffs on
either side. He knew that his antagonist, Joe Johnston, here confronted
him in force. But it was to be a campaign of brilliant flanking movements,
and Sherman sat quietly down to wait till the trusty McPherson should
execute the first one.

In the lower picture, drawn up on dress parade, stands one of the finest
fighting organizations in the Atlanta campaign. This regiment won its
spurs in the first Union victory in the West at Mill Springs, Kentucky,
January 19, 1862. There, according to the muster-out roll, "William Blake,
musician, threw away his drum and took a gun." The spirit of this drummer
boy of Company F was the spirit of all the troops from Minnesota. A
Georgian noticed an unusually fine body of men marching by, and when told
that they were a Minnesota regiment, said, "I didn't know they had any
troops up there." But the world was to learn the superlative fighting
qualities of the men from the Northwest. Sherman was glad to have all he
could get of them in this great army of one hundred thousand veterans.

MAY 8-11, 1864




On the balcony of this little cottage at Graysville, Georgia, stands
General Richard W. Johnson, ready to advance with his cavalry division in
the vanguard of the direct movement upon the Confederates strongly posted
at Dalton. Sherman's cavalry forces under Stoneman and Garrard were not
yet fully equipped and joined the army after the campaign had opened.
General Richard W. Johnson's division of Thomas' command, with General
Palmer's division, was given the honor of heading the line of march when
the Federals got in motion on May 5th. The same troops (Palmer's division)
had made the same march in February, sent by Grant to engage Johnston at
Dalton during Sherman's Meridian campaign. Johnson was a West Pointer; he
had gained his cavalry training in the Mexican War, and had fought the
Indians on the Texas border. He distinguished himself at Corinth, and
rapidly rose to the command of a division in Buell's army. Fresh from a
Confederate prison, he joined the Army of the Cumberland in the summer of
1862 to win new laurels at Stone's River, Chickamauga, and Missionary
Ridge. His sabers were conspicuously active in the Atlanta campaign; and
at the battle of New Hope Church on May 28th Johnson himself was wounded,
but recovered in time to join Schofield after the fall of Atlanta and to
assist him in driving Hood and Forrest out of Tennessee. For his bravery
at the battle of Nashville he was brevetted brigadier-general, U. S. A.,
December 16, 1864, and after the war he was retired with the brevet of



The chips are still bright and the earth fresh turned, in the foreground
where are the Confederate earthworks such at General Joseph E. Johnston
had caused to be thrown up by the Negro laborers all along his line of
possible retreat. McPherson, sent by Sherman to strike the railroad in
Johnston's rear, got his head of column through Snake Creek Gap on May
9th, and drove off a Confederate cavalry brigade which retreated toward
Dalton, bringing to Johnston the first news that a heavy force of Federals
was already in his rear. McPherson, within a mile and a half of Resaca,
could have walked into the town with his twenty-three thousand men, but
concluded that the Confederate entrenchments were too strongly held to
assault. When Sherman arrived he found that Johnston, having the shorter
route, was there ahead of him with his entire army strongly posted. On May
15th, "without attempting to assault the fortified works," says Sherman,
"we pressed at all points, and the sound of cannon and musketry rose all
day to the dignity of a battle." Its havoc is seen in the shattered trees
and torn ground in the lower picture.





The strong works in the pictures, commanding the railroad bridge over the
Etowah River, were the fourth fortified position to be abandoned by
Johnston within a month. Pursued by Thomas from Resaca, he had made a
brief stand at Kingston and then fallen back steadily and in superb order
into Cassville. There he issued an address to his army announcing his
purpose to retreat no more but to accept battle. His troops were all drawn
up in preparation for a struggle, but that night at supper with Generals
Hood and Polk he was convinced by them that the ground occupied by their
troops was untenable, being enfiladed by the Federal artillery. Johnston,
therefore, gave up his purpose of battle, and on the night of May 20th put
the Etowah River between himself and Sherman and retreated to Allatoona
Pass, shown in the lower picture.


In taking this the camera was planted inside the breastworks seen on the
eminence in the upper picture. Sherman's army now rested after its rapid
advance and waited a few days for the railroad to be repaired in their
rear so that supplies could be brought up. Meanwhile Johnston was being
severely criticized at the South for his continual falling back without
risking a battle. His friends stoutly maintained that it was all
strategic, while some of the Southern newspapers quoted the Federal
General Scott's remark, "Beware of Lee advancing, and watch Johnston at a
stand; for the devil himself would be defeated in the attempt to whip him
retreating." But General Jeff C. Davis, sent by Sherman, took Rome on May
17th and destroyed valuable mills and foundries. Thus began the
accomplishment of one of the main objects of Sherman's march.



The blasted pine rears its gaunt height above the mountain slope, covered
with trees slashed down to hold the Federals at bay; and here, on June 14,
1864, the Confederacy lost a commander, a bishop, and a hero.
Lieut.-General Leonidas Polk, commanding one of Johnston's army corps,
with Johnston himself and Hardee, another corps commander, was studying
Sherman's position at a tense moment of the latter's advance around Pine
Mountain. The three Confederates stood upon the rolling height, where the
center of Johnston's army awaited the Federal attack. They could see the
columns in blue pushing east of them; the smoke and rattle of musketry as
the pickets were driven in; and the bustle with which the Federal advance
guard felled trees and constructed trenches at their very feet. On the
lonely height the three figures stood conspicuous. A Federal order was
given the artillery to open upon any men in gray who looked like officers
reconnoitering the new position. So, while Hardee was pointing to his
comrade and his chief the danger of one of his divisions which the Federal
advance was cutting off, the bishop-general was struck in the chest by a
cannon shot. Thus the Confederacy lost a leader of unusual influence.
Although a bishop of the Episcopal Church, Polk was educated at West
Point. When he threw in his lot with the Confederacy, thousands of his
fellow-Louisianians followed him. A few days before the battle of Pine
Mountain, as he and General Hood were riding together, the bishop was told
by his companion that he had never been received into the communion of a
church and was begged that the rite might be performed. Immediately Polk
arranged the ceremony. At Hood's headquarters, by the light of a tallow
candle, with a tin basin on the mess table for a baptismal font, and with
Hood's staff present as witnesses, all was ready. Hood, "with a face like
that of an old crusader," stood before the bishop. Crippled by wounds at
Gaines' Mill, Gettysburg, and Chickamauga, he could not kneel, but bent
forward on his crutches. The bishop, in full uniform of the Confederate
army, administered the rite. A few days later, by a strange coincidence,
he was approached by General Johnston on the same errand, and the man whom
Hood was soon to succeed was baptized in the same simple manner. Polk, as
Bishop, had administered his last baptism, and as soldier had fought his
last battle; for Pine Mountain was near.

[Illustration: LIEUT.-GEN. LEONIDAS POLK, C. S. A.]



During the dark days before Kenesaw it rained continually, and Sherman
speaks of the peculiarly depressing effect that the weather had upon his
troops in the wooded country. Nevertheless he must either assault
Johnston's strong position on the mountain or begin again his flanking
tactics. He decided upon the former, and on June 27th, after three days'
preparation, the assault was made. At nine in the morning along the
Federal lines the furious fire of musketry and artillery was begun, but at
all points the Confederates met it with determined courage and in great
force. McPherson's attacking column, under General Blair, fought its way
up the face of little Kenesaw but could not reach the summit. Then the
courageous troops of Thomas charged up the face of the mountain and
planted their colors on the very parapet of the Confederate works. Here
General Harker, commanding the brigade in which fought the 125th Ohio,
fell mortally wounded, as did Brigadier-General Daniel McCook, and also
General Wagner.





Battery B of the First Illinois Light Artillery followed Sherman in the
Atlanta campaign. It took part in the demonstrations against Resaca,
Georgia, May 8 to 15, 1864, and in the battle of Resaca on the 14th and
15th. It was in the battles about Dallas from May 25th to June 5th, and
took part in the operations about Marietta and against Kenesaw Mountain in
June and July. During the latter period this photograph was taken. The
battery did not go into this campaign without previous experience. It had
already fought as one of the eight batteries at Fort Henry and Fort
Donelson, heard the roar of the battle of Shiloh, and participated in the
sieges of Corinth and Vicksburg. The artillery in the West was not a whit
less necessary to the armies than that in the East. Pope's brilliant feat
of arms in the capture of Island No. 10 added to the growing respect in
which the artillery was held by the other arms of the service. The
effective fire of the massed batteries at Murfreesboro turned the tide of
battle. At Chickamauga the Union artillery inflicted fearful losses upon
the Confederates. At Atlanta again they counted their dead by the
hundreds, and at Franklin and Nashville the guns maintained the best
traditions of the Western armies. They played no small part in winning



This is a photograph of Independence Day, 1864. As the sentries and staff
officers stand outside the sheltered tents, General Thomas, commanding the
Army of the Cumberland, is busy; for the fighting is fierce to-day.
Johnston has been outflanked from Kenesaw and has fallen back eastward
until he is actually farther from Atlanta than Sherman's right flank. Who
will reach the Chattahoochee first? There, if anywhere, Johnston must make
his stand; he must hold the fords and ferries, and the fortifications
that, with the wisdom of a far-seeing commander, he has for a long time
been preparing. The rustic work in the photograph, which embowers the
tents of the commanding general and his staff, is the sort of thing that
Civil War soldiers had learned to throw up within an hour after pitching



At last Sherman is before Atlanta. The photograph shows one of the
keypoints in the Confederate defense, the fort at the head of Marietta
Street, toward which the Federal lines were advancing from the northwest.
The old Potter house in the background, once a quiet, handsome country
seat, is now surrounded by bristling fortifications, palisades, and double
lines of _chevaux-de-frise_. Atlanta was engaged in the final grapple with
the force that was to overcome her. Sherman has fought his way past
Kenesaw and across the Chattahoochee, through a country which he describes
as "one vast fort," saying that "Johnston must have at least fifty miles
of connected trenches with abatis and finished batteries." Anticipating
that Sherman might drive him back upon Atlanta, Johnston had constructed,
during the winter, heavily fortified positions all the way from Dalton.
During his two months in retreat the fortifications at Atlanta had been
strengthened to the utmost. What he might have done behind them was never
to be known.


"One of the strongest pieces of field fortification I ever saw"--this was
Sherman's characterization of the entrenchments that guarded the railroad
bridge over the Chattahoochee on July 5th. A glimpse of the bridge and the
freshly-turned earth in 1864 is given by the upper picture. At this river
Johnston made his final effort to hold back Sherman from a direct attack
upon Atlanta. If Sherman could get successfully across that river, the
Confederates would be compelled to fall back behind the defenses of the
city, which was the objective of the campaign. Sherman perceived at once
the futility of trying to carry by assault this strongly garrisoned
position. Instead, he made a feint at crossing the river lower down, and
simultaneously went to work in earnest eight miles north of the bridge.
The lower picture shows the canvas pontoon boats as perfected by Union
engineers in 1864. A number of these were stealthily set up and launched
by Sherman's Twenty-third Corps near the mouth of Soap Creek, behind a
ridge. Byrd's brigade took the defenders of the southern bank completely
by surprise. It was short work for the Federals to throw pontoon bridges
across and to occupy the coveted spot in force.



Johnston's parrying of Sherman's mighty strokes was "a model of defensive
warfare," declares one of Sherman's own division commanders, Jacob D. Cox.
There was not a man in the Federal army from Sherman down that did not
rejoice to hear that Johnston had been superseded by Hood on July 18th.
Johnston, whose mother was a niece of Patrick Henry, was fifty-seven years
old, cold in manner, measured and accurate in speech. His dark firm face,
surmounted by a splendidly intellectual forehead, betokened the
experienced and cautious soldier. His dismissal was one of the political
mistakes which too often hampered capable leaders on both sides. His
Fabian policy in Georgia was precisely the same as that which was winning
fame against heavy odds for Lee in Virginia.


BORN 1809; WEST POINT 1829; DIED 1891]



BORN 1831; WEST POINT 1853; DIED 1879]

The countenance of Hood, on the other hand, indicates an eager, restless
energy, an impetuosity that lacked the poise of Sherman, whose every
gesture showed the alertness of mind and soundness of judgment that in him
were so exactly balanced. Both Schofield and McPherson were classmates of
Hood at West Point, and characterized him to Sherman as "bold even to
rashness and courageous in the extreme." He struck the first offensive
blow at Sherman advancing on Atlanta, and wisely adhered to the plan of
the battle as it had been worked out by Johnston just before his removal.
But the policy of attacking was certain to be finally disastrous to the



Counting these closely clustered Federal graves gives one an idea of the
overwhelming onset with Hood become the aggressor on July 20th. Beyond the
graves are some of the trenches from which the Federals were at first
irresistibly driven. In the background flows Peach-Tree Creek, the little
stream that gives its name to the battlefield. Hood, impatient to
signalize his new responsibility by a stroke that would at once dispel the
gloom at Richmond, had posted his troops behind strongly fortified works
on a ridge commanding the valley of Peach-Tree Creek about five miles to
the north of Atlanta. Here he awaited the approach of Sherman. As the
Federals were disposing their lines and entrenching before this position,
Hood's eager eyes detected a gap in their formation and at four o'clock in
the afternoon hurled a heavy force against it. Thus he proved his
reputation for courage, but the outcome showed the mistake. For a brief
interval Sherman's forces were in great peril. But the Federals under
Newton and Geary rallied and held their ground, till Ward's division in a
brave counter-charge drove the Confederates back. This first effort cost
Hood dear. He abandoned his entrenchments that night, leaving on the field
five hundred dead, one thousand wounded, and many prisoners. Sherman
estimated the total Confederate loss at no less than five thousand. That
of the Federals was fifteen hundred.



A Federal picket post on the lines before Atlanta. This picture was taken
shortly before the battle of July 22d. The soldiers are idling about
unconcerned at exposing themselves; this is on the "reserve post."
Somewhat in advance of this lay the outer line of pickets, and it would be
time enough to seek cover if they were driven in. Thus armies feel for
each other, stretching out first their sensitive fingers--the pickets. If
these recoil, the skirmishers are sent forward while the strong arm, the
line of battle, gathers itself to meet the foe. As this was an inner line,
it was more strongly fortified than was customary with the pickets. But
the men of both sides had become very expert in improvising field-works at
this stage of the war. Hard campaigning had taught the veterans the
importance to themselves of providing such protection, and no orders had
to be given for their construction. As soon as a regiment gained a
position desirable to hold, the soldiers would throw up a strong parapet
of dirt and logs in a single night. In order to spare the men as much as
possible, Sherman ordered his division commanders to organize pioneer
detachments out of the Negroes that escaped to the Federals. These could
work at night.



It was Sherman's experienced railroad wreckers that finally drove Hood out
of Atlanta. In the picture the rails heating red-hot amid the flaming
bonfires of the ties, and the piles of twisted débris show vividly what
Sherman meant when he said their "work was done with a will." Sherman saw
that in order to take Atlanta without terrific loss he must cut off all
its rail communications. This he did by "taking the field with our main
force and using it against the communications of Atlanta instead of
against its intrenchments." On the night of August 25th he moved with
practically his entire army and wagon-trains loaded with fifteen days'
rations. By the morning of the 27th the whole front of the city was
deserted. The Confederates concluded that Sherman was in retreat. Next day
they found out their mistake, for the Federal army lay across the West
Point Railroad while the soldiers began wrecking it. Next day they were in
motion toward the railroad to Macon, and General Hood began to understand
that a colossal raid was in progress. After the occupation, when this
picture was taken, Sherman's men completed the work of destruction.



On the night of August 31st, in his headquarters near Jonesboro, Sherman
could not sleep. That day he had defeated the force sent against him at
Jonesboro and cut them off from returning to Atlanta. This was Hood's last
effort to save his communications. About midnight sounds of exploding
shells and what seemed like volleys of musketry arose in the direction of
Atlanta. The day had been exciting in that city. Supplies and ammunition
that Hood could carry with him were being removed; large quantities of
provisions were being distributed among the citizens, and as the troops
marched out they were allowed to take what they could from the public
stores. All that remained was destroyed. The noise that Sherman heard that
night was the blowing up of the rolling-mill and of about a hundred cars
and six engines loaded with Hood's abandoned ammunition. The picture shows
the Georgia Central Railroad east of the town.




Although remaining politically neutral throughout the war, Missouri
contributed four hundred and forty-seven separate military organizations
to the Federal armies, and over one hundred to the Confederacy. The Union
sentiment in the State is said to have been due to Frank P. Blair, who,
early in 1861, began organizing home guards. Blair subsequently joined
Grant's command and served with that leader until Sherman took the helm in
the West. With Sherman Major-General Blair fought in Georgia and through
the Carolinas.



California contributed twelve military organizations to the Federal
forces, but none of them took part in the campaigns east of the
Mississippi. Its Senator, Edward D. Baker, was in his place in Washington
when the war broke out, and, being a close friend of Lincoln, promptly
organized a regiment of Pennsylvanians which was best known by its synonym
"First California." Colonel Baker was killed at the head of it at the
battle of Ball's Bluff, Virginia, October 21, 1861. Baker had been
appointed brigadier-general but declined.



West Virginia counties had already supplied soldiers for the Confederates
when the new State was organized in 1861. As early as May, 1861, Colonel
B. F. Kelley was in the field with the First West Virginia Infantry
marshalled under the Stars and Stripes. He served to the end of the war
and was brevetted major-general. West Virginia furnished thirty-seven
organizations of all arms to the Federal armies, chiefly for local defense
and for service in contiguous territory. General Kelley was prominent in
the Shenandoah campaigns.



Little Delaware furnished to the Federal armies fifteen separate military
organizations. First in the field was Colonel Thomas A. Smyth, with the
First Delaware Infantry. Early promoted to the command of a brigade, he
led it at Gettysburg, where it received the full force of Pickett's charge
on Cemetery Ridge, July 3, 1863. He was brevetted major-general and fell
at Farmville, on Appomattox River, Va., April 7, 1865, two days before the
surrender at Appomattox. General Smyth was a noted leader in the Second



The virgin State of Kansas sent fifty regiments, battalions, and batteries
into the Federal camps. Its Second Infantry was organized and led to the
field by Colonel R. B. Mitchell, a veteran of the Mexican War. At the
first battle in the West, Wilson's Creek, Mo. (August 10, 1861), he was
wounded. At the battle of Perryville, Brigadier-General Mitchell commanded
a division in McCook's Corps and fought desperately to hold the Federal
left flank against a sudden and desperate assault by General Bragg's



New Hampshire supplied twenty-nine military organizations to the Federal
armies. To the Granite State belongs the grim distinction of furnishing
the regiment which had the heaviest mortality roll of any infantry
organization in the army. This was the Fifth New Hampshire, commanded by
Colonel E. E. Cross. The Fifth served in the Army of the Potomac. At
Gettysburg, Colonel Cross commanded a brigade, which included the Fifth
New Hampshire, and was killed at the head of it near Devil's Den, on July
2, 1863.




Arkansas entered into the war with enthusiasm, and had a large contingent
of Confederate troops ready for the field in the summer of 1861. At
Wilson's Creek, Missouri, August 10, 1861, there were four regiments and
two batteries of Arkansans under command of Brigadier-General N. B.
Pearce. Arkansas furnished seventy separate military organizations to the
Confederate armies and seventeen to the Federals. The State was gallantly
represented in the Army of Northern Virginia, notably at Antietam and



Maryland quickly responded to the Southern call to arms, and among its
first contribution of soldiers was George H. Steuart, who led a battalion
across the Potomac early in 1861. These Marylanders fought at First Bull
Run, or Manassas, and Lee's army at Petersburg included Maryland troops
under Brigadier-General Steuart. During the war this little border State,
politically neutral, sent six separate organizations to the Confederates
in Virginia, and mustered thirty-five for the Federal camps and for local



Kentucky is notable as a State which sent brothers to both the Federal and
Confederate armies. Major-General George B. Crittenden, C. S. A., was the
brother of Major-General Thomas L. Crittenden, U. S. A. Although remaining
politically neutral throughout the war, the Blue Grass State sent
forty-nine regiments, battalions, and batteries across the border to
uphold the Stars and Bars, and mustered eighty of all arms to battle
around the Stars and Stripes and protect the State from Confederate



The last of the Southern States to cast its fortunes in with the
Confederacy, North Carolina vied with the pioneers in the spirit with
which it entered the war. With the First North Carolina, Lieut.-Col. Matt
W. Ransom was on the firing-line early in 1861. Under his leadership as
brigadier-general, North Carolinians carried the Stars and Bars on all the
great battlefields of the Army of Northern Virginia. The State furnished
ninety organizations for the Confederate armies, and sent eight to the
Federal camps.



Florida was one of the first to follow South Carolina's example in
dissolving the Federal compact. It furnished twenty-one military
organizations to the Confederate forces, and throughout the war maintained
a vigorous home defense. Its foremost soldier to take the field when the
State was menaced by a strong Federal expedition in February, 1864, was
Brigadier-General Joseph Finegan. Hastily gathering scattered detachments,
he defeated and checked the expedition at the battle of Olustee, or Ocean
Pond, on February 20.



Cleburne was of foreign birth, but before the war was one year old he
became the leader of Tennesseeans, fighting heroically on Tennessee soil.
At Shiloh, Cleburne's brigade, and at Murfreesboro, Chattanooga, and
Franklin, Major-General P. R. Cleburne's division found the post of honor.
At Franklin this gallant Irishman "The 'Stonewall' Jackson of the West,"
led Tennesseeans for the last time and fell close to the breastworks.
Tennessee sent the Confederate armies 129 organizations, and the Federal


_Painted by E. Packbauer._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    Sheridan's operations were characterized not so much, as has been
    supposed, by any originality of method, as by a just appreciation of
    the proper manner of combining the two arms of infantry and cavalry.
    He constantly used his powerful body of horse, which under his
    disciplined hand attained a high degree of perfection, as an
    impenetrable mask behind which he screened the execution of maneuvers
    of infantry columns hurled with a mighty momentum on one of the
    enemy's flanks.--_William Swinton, in "Campaigns of the Army of the

On July 12, 1864, in the streets of Washington, there could be distinctly
heard the boom of cannon and the sharp firing of musketry. The excitement
in the city was intense. The old specter "threaten Washington," that for
three years had been a standing menace to the Federal authorities and a
"very present help" to the Confederates, now seemed to have come in the
flesh. The hopes of the South and the fears of the North were apparently
about to be realized.

The occasion of this demonstration before the very gates of the city was
the result of General Lee's project to relieve the pressure on his own
army, by an invasion of the border States and a threatening attitude
toward the Union capital. The plan had worked well before, and Lee
believed it again would be effective. Grant was pushing him hard in front
of Petersburg. Accordingly, Lee despatched the daring soldier, General
Jubal A. Early, to carry the war again to the northward. He was to go by
the beautiful and fertile Shenandoah valley, that highway of the
Confederates along which the legions of the South had marched and
countermarched. On the 9th of July, the advance lines of the Confederate
force came to the banks of the Monocacy, where they found General Lew
Wallace posted, with eight thousand men, half of Early's numbers, on the
eastern side of that stream, to contest the approach of the Southern

The battle was brief but bloody; the Confederates, crossing the stream and
climbing its slippery banks, hurled their lines of gray against the
compact ranks of blue. The attack was impetuous; the repulse was stubborn.
A wail of musketry rent the air and the Northern soldiers fell back to
their second position. Between the opposing forces was a narrow ravine
through which flowed a small brook. Across this stream the tide of battle
rose and fell. Its limpid current was soon crimsoned by the blood of the
dead and wounded. Wallace's columns, as did those of Early, bled, but they
stood. The result of the battle for a time hung in the balance. Then the
Federal lines began to crumble. The retreat began, some of the troops in
order but the greater portion in confusion, and the victorious
Confederates found again an open way to Washington.

Now within half a dozen miles of the city, with the dome of the Capitol in
full view, the Southern general pushed his lines so close to Fort Stevens
that he was ready to train his forty pieces of artillery upon its walls.

General Augur, in command of the capital's defenses, hastily collected
what strength in men and guns he could. Heavy artillery, militia, sailors
from the navy yard, convalescents, Government employees of all kinds were
rushed to the forts around the city. General Wright, with two divisions of
the Sixth Corps, arrived from the camp at Petersburg, and Emory's division
of the Nineteenth Corps came just in time from New Orleans. This was on
July 11th, the very day on which Early appeared in front of Fort Stevens.
The Confederate had determined to make an assault, but the knowledge of
the arrival of Wright and Emory caused him to change his mind. He realized
that, if unsuccessful, his whole force would be lost, and he concluded to
return. Nevertheless, he spent the 12th of July in threatening the city.
In the middle of the afternoon General Wright sent out General Wheaton
with Bidwell's brigade of Getty's division, and Early's pickets and
skirmishers were driven back a mile.

This small engagement had many distinguished spectators. Pond in "The
Shenandoah Valley" thus describes the scene: "On the parapet of Fort
Stevens stood the tall form of Abraham Lincoln by the side of General
Wright, who in vain warned the eager President that his position was swept
by the bullets of sharpshooters, until an officer was shot down within
three feet of him, when he reluctantly stepped below. Sheltered from the
line of fire, Cabinet officers and a group of citizens and ladies,
breathless with excitement, watched the fortunes of the flight."

Under cover of night the Confederates began to retrace their steps and
made their way to the Shenandoah, with General Wright in pursuit. As the
Confederate army was crossing that stream, at Snicker's Ferry, on the
18th, the pursuing Federals came upon them. Early turned, repulsed them,
and continued on his way to Winchester, where General Averell, from
Hunter's forces, now at Harper's Ferry, attacked them with his cavalry and
took several hundred prisoners.

The Federal authorities were looking for a "man of the hour"--one whom
they might pit against the able and strategic Early. Such a one was found
in General Philip Henry Sheridan, whom some have called the "Marshal Ney
of America." He was selected by General Grant, and his instructions were
to drive the Confederates out of the Valley once for all.

The middle of September found the Confederate forces centered about
Winchester, and the Union army was ten miles distant, with the Opequon
between them. At two o'clock on the morning of September 19th, the Union
camp was in motion, preparing for marching orders. At three o'clock the
forward movement was begun, and by daylight the Federal advance had driven
in the Confederate pickets. Emptying into the Opequon from the west are
two converging streams, forming a triangle with the Winchester and
Martinsburg pike as a base.

The town of Winchester is situated on this road, and was therefore at the
bottom of the triangle. Before the town, the Confederate army stretched
its lines between the two streams. The Union army would have to advance
from the apex of the triangle, through a narrow ravine, shut in by thickly
wooded hills and gradually emerging into an undulating valley. At the end
of the gorge was a Confederate outwork, guarding the approach to
Winchester. Both generals had the same plan of battle in mind. Sheridan
would strike the Confederate center and right. Early was willing he should
do this, for he planned to strike the Union right, double it back, get
between Sheridan's army and the gorge, and thus cut off its retreat.

It took time for the Union troops to pass through the ravine, and it was
late in the forenoon before the line of battle was formed. The attack and
defense were alike obstinate. Upon the Sixth Corps and Grover's division
of the Nineteenth Corps fell the brunt of the battle, since they were to
hold the center while the Army of West Virginia, under General Crook,
would sweep around them and turn the position of the opposing forces. The
Confederate General Ramseur, with his troops, drove back the Federal
center, held his ground for two hours, while the opposing lines were swept
by musketry and artillery from the front, and enfiladed by artillery. Many
Federal prisoners were taken.

By this time, Russell's division of the Sixth Corps emerged from the
ravine. Forming in two lines, it marched quickly to the front. About the
same time the Confederates were also being reënforced. General Rodes
plunged into the fight, making a gallant attack and losing his life.
General Gordon, with his columns of gray, swept across the summit of the
hills and through the murky clouds of smoke saw the steady advance of the
lines of blue. One of Russell's brigades struck the Confederate flank, and
the Federal line was reestablished. As the division moved forward to do
this General Russell fell, pierced through the heart by a piece of shell.

The Fifth Maine battery, galloping into the field, unlimbered and with an
enfilading storm of canister aided in turning the tide. Piece by piece the
shattered Union line was picked up and reunited. Early sent the last of
his reserves into the conflict to turn the Union right. Now ensued the
fiercest fighting of the day. Regiment after regiment advanced to the wood
only to be hurled back again. Here it was that the One hundred and
fourteenth New York left its dreadful toll of men. Its position after the
battle could be told by the long, straight line of one hundred and
eighty-five of its dead and wounded.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon; the hour of Early's repulse had
struck. To the right of the Union lines could be heard a mighty yell. The
Confederates seemed to redouble their fire. The shivering lightning bolts
shot through the air and the volleys of musketry increased in intensity.
Then, across the shell-plowed field, came the reserves under General
Crook. Breasting the Confederate torrent of lead, which cut down nine
hundred of the reserves while crossing the open space, they rushed toward
the embattled lines of the South.

At the same moment, coming out of the woods in the rear of the Federals,
were seen the men of the Nineteenth Corps under General Emory, who had for
three hours been lying in the grass awaiting their opportunity. The
Confederate bullets had been falling thick in their midst with fatal
certainty. They were eager for action. Rushing into the contest like
madmen, they stopped at nothing. From two sides of the wood the men of
Emory and Crook charged simultaneously. The Union line overlapped the
Confederate at every point and doubled around the unprotected flanks. The
day for the Southerners was irretrievably lost. They fell back toward
Winchester in confusion. As they did so, a great uproar was heard on the
pike road. It was the Federal cavalry under General Torbert sweeping up
the road, driving the Confederate troopers before them. The surprised mass
was pressed into its own lines. The infantry was charged and many
prisoners and battle-flags captured.

The sun was now sinking upon the horizon, and on the ascending slopes in
the direction of the town could be seen the long, dark lines of men
following at the heels of the routed army. Along the crest of the
embattled summit galloped a force of cavalrymen, which, falling upon the
disorganized regiments of Early, aided, in the language of Sheridan, "to
send them whirling through Winchester." The Union pursuit continued until
the twilight had come and the shadows of night screened the scattered
forces of Early from the pursuing cavalrymen. The battle of Winchester, or
the Opequon, had been a bloody one--a loss of five thousand on the Federal
side, and about four thousand on the Confederate.

By daylight of the following morning the victorious army was again in
pursuit. On the afternoon of that day, it caught up with the Confederates,
who now turned at bay at Fisher's Hill to resist the further approach of
their pursuers. The position selected by General Early was a strong one,
and his antagonist at once recognized it as such. The valley of the
Shenandoah at this point is about four miles wide, lying between Fisher's
Hill and Little North Mountain. General Early's line extended across the
entire valley, and he had greatly increased his already naturally strong
position. His army seemed safe from attack. From the summit of Three Top
Mountain, his signal corps informed him of every movement of the Union
army in the valley below. General Sheridan's actions indicated a purpose
to assault the center of the Confederate line. For two days he continued
massing his regiments in that direction, at times even skirmishing for
position. General Wright pushed his men to within seven hundred yards of
the Southern battle-line. While this was going on in full view of the
Confederate general and his army, another movement was being executed
which even the vigilant signal officers on Three Top Mountain had not

On the night of September 20th, the troops of General Crook were moved
into the timber on the north bank of Cedar Creek. All during the next day,
they lay concealed. That night they crossed the stream and the next
morning were again hidden by the woods and ravines. At five o'clock on the
morning of the 22d, Crook's men were nearly opposite the Confederate
center. Marching his men in perfect silence, by one o'clock he had arrived
at the left and front of the unsuspecting Early. By four o'clock he had
reached the east face of Little North Mountain, to the left and rear of
the Confederates. While the movement was being made, the main body of the
Federal army was engaging the attention of the Confederates in front. Just
before sundown, Crook's men plunged down the mountain side, from out of
the timbered cover. The Confederates were quick to see that they had been
trapped. They had been caught in a pocket and there was nothing for them
to do except to retreat or surrender. They preferred the former, which
was, according to General Gordon, "first stubborn and slow, then rapid,
then--a rout."

After the battle of Fisher's Hill the pursuit still continued. The
Confederate regiments re-formed, and at times would stop and contest the
approach of the advancing cavalrymen. By the time the Union infantry would
reach the place, the retreating army would have vanished. Torbert had been
sent down Luray Valley in pursuit of the Confederate cavalry, with the
hope of scattering it and seizing New Market in time to cut off the
Confederate retreat from Fisher's Hill. But at Milford, in a narrow gorge,
General Wickham held Torbert and prevented the fulfilment of his plan; and
General Early's whole force was able to escape. Day after day this
continued until Early had taken refuge in the Blue Ridge in front of
Brown's Gap. Here he received reënforcements. Sheridan in the mean time
had gone into camp at Harrisonburg, and for some time the two armies lay
watching each other. The Federals were having difficulty in holding their
lines of supply.

With the Valley practically given up by Early, Sheridan was anxious to
stop here. He wrote to Grant, "I think the best policy will be to let the
burning of the crops in the Valley be the end of the campaign, and let
some of this army go somewhere else." He had the Petersburg line in mind.
Grant's consent to this plan reached him on October 5th, and the following
day he started on his return march down the Shenandoah. His cavalry
extended across the entire valley. With the unsparing severity of war, his
men began to make a barren waste of the region. The October sky was
overcast with clouds of smoke and sheets of flame from the burning barns
and mills.

As the army of Sheridan proceeded down the Valley, the undaunted cavaliers
of Early came in pursuit. His horsemen kept close to the rear of the Union
columns. On the morning of October 9th, the cavalry leader, Rosser, who
had succeeded Wickham, found himself confronted by General Custer's
division, at Tom's Brook. At the same time the Federal general, Wesley
Merritt, fell upon the cavalry of Lomax and Johnson on an adjacent road.
The two Union forces were soon united and a mounted battle ensued. The
fight continued for two hours. There were charges and countercharges. The
ground being level, the maneuvering of the squadrons was easy. The clink
of the sabers rang out in the morning air. Both sides fought with
tenacity. The Confederate center held together, but its flanks gave way.
The Federals charged along the whole front, with a momentum that forced
the Southern cavalrymen to flee from the field. They left in the hands of
the Federal troopers over three hundred prisoners, all their artillery,
except one piece, and nearly every wagon the Confederate cavalry had with

The Northern army continued its retrograde movement, and on the 10th
crossed to the north side of Cedar Creek. Early's army in the mean time
had taken a position at the wooded base of Fisher's Hill, four miles
away. The Sixth Corps started for Washington, but the news of Early at
Fisher's Hill led to its recall. The Union forces occupied ground that was
considered practically unassailable, especially on the left, where the
deep gorge of the Shenandoah, along whose front rose the bold Massanutten
Mountain, gave it natural protection.

The movements of the Confederate army were screened by the wooded ravines
in front of Fisher's Hill, while, from the summit of the neighboring Three
Top Mountain, its officers could view, as in a panorama, the entire Union
camp. Seemingly secure, the corps of Crook on the left of the Union line
was not well protected. The keen-eyed Gordon saw the weak point in the
Union position. Ingenious plans to break it down were quickly made.

Meanwhile, Sheridan was summoned to Washington to consult with Secretary
Stanton. He did not believe that Early proposed an immediate attack, and
started on the 15th, escorted by the cavalry, and leaving General Wright
in command. At Front Royal the next day word came from Wright enclosing a
message taken for the Confederate signal-flag on Three Top Mountain. It
was from Longstreet, advising Early that he would join him and crush
Sheridan. The latter sent the cavalry back to Wright, and continued on to
Washington, whence he returned at once by special train, reaching
Winchester on the evening of the 18th.

Just after dark on October 18th, a part of Early's army under the command
of General John B. Gordon, with noiseless steps, moved out from their
camp, through the misty, autumn night. The men had been stripped of their
canteens, in fear that the striking of them against some object might
reveal their movements. Orders were given in low whispers. Their path
followed along the base of the mountain--a dim and narrow trail, upon
which but one man might pass at a time. For seven miles this sinuous line
made its way through the dark gorge, crossing the Shenandoah, and at
times passing within four hundred yards of the Union pickets.

It arrived at the appointed place, opposite Crook's camp on the Federal
right, an hour before the attack was to be made. In the shivering air of
the early morning, the men crouched on the river bank, waiting for the
coming of the order to move forward. At last, at five o'clock, it came.
They plunged into the frosty water of the river, emerged on the other
side, marched in "double quick," and were soon sounding a reveille to the
sleeping troops of Sheridan. The minie balls whizzed and sang through the
tents. In the gray mists of the dawn the legions of the South looked like
phantom warriors, as they poured through the unmanned gaps. The
Northerners sprang to arms. There was a bloody struggle in the trenches.
Their eyes saw the flames from the Southern muskets; the men felt the
breath of the hot muzzles in their faces, while the Confederate bayonets
were at their breasts. There was a brief struggle, then panic and
disorganization. Only a quarter of an hour of this yelling and struggling,
and two-thirds of the Union army broke like a mill-dam and poured across
the fields, leaving their accouterments of war and the stiffening bodies
of their comrades. Rosser, with the cavalry, attacked Custer and assisted

Meanwhile, during these same early morning hours, General Early had
himself advanced to Cedar Creek by a more direct route. At half-past three
o'clock his men had come in sight of the Union camp-fires. They waited
under cover for the approach of day. At the first blush of dawn and before
the charge of Gordon, Early hurled his men across the stream, swept over
the breastworks, captured the batteries and turned them upon the
unsuspecting Northerners. The Federal generals tried to stem the impending
disaster. From the east of the battlefield the solid lines of Gordon were
now driving the fugitives of Crook's corps by the mere force of momentum.
Aides were darting hither and thither, trying to reassemble the crumbling
lines. The Nineteenth Corps, under Emory, tried to hold its ground; for a
time it fought alone, but after a desperate effort to hold its own, it,
too, melted away under the scorching fire. The fields to the rear of the
army were covered with wagons, ambulances, stragglers, and fleeing

The Sixth Corps now came to the rescue. As it slowly fell to the rear it
would, at times, turn to fight. At last it found a place where it again
stood at bay. The men hastily gathered rails and constructed rude
field-works. At the same time the Confederates paused in their advance.
The rattle of musketry ceased. There was scarcely any firing except for
the occasional roar of a long-range artillery gun. The Southerners seemed
willing to rest on their well-earned laurels of the morning. In the
language of the successful commander, it was "glory enough for one day."

But the brilliant morning victory was about to be changed to a singular
afternoon defeat. During the morning's fight, when the Union troops were
being rapidly overwhelmed with panic, Rienzi, the beautiful jet-black
war-charger, was bearing his master, the commander of the Federal army, to
the field of disaster. Along the broad valley highway that leads from
Winchester, General Sheridan had galloped to where his embattled lines had
been reduced to a flying mob. While riding leisurely away from Winchester
about nine o'clock he had heard unmistakable thunder-peals of artillery.
Realizing that a battle was on in the front, he hastened forward, soon to
be met, as he crossed Mill Creek, by the trains and men of his routed
army, coming to the rear with appalling rapidity.

News from the field told him of the crushing defeat of his hitherto
invincible regiments. The road was blocked by the retreating crowds as
they pressed toward the rear. The commander was forced to take to the
fields, and as his steed, flecked with foam, bore him onward, the
disheartened refugees greeted him with cheers. Taking off his hat as he
rode, he cried, "We will go back and recover our camps." The words seemed
to inspire the demoralized soldiers. Stragglers fell into line behind him;
men turned to follow their magnetic leader back to the fight.

Vaulting his horse over the low barricade of rails, he dashed to the crest
of the field. There was a flutter along the battle-line. The men from
behind their protecting wall broke into thunderous cheers. From the rear
of the soldiers there suddenly arose, as from the earth, a line of the
regimental flags, which waved recognition to their leader. Color-bearers
reassembled. The straggling lines re-formed. Early made another assault
after one o'clock, but was easily repulsed.

It was nearly four o'clock when the order for the Federal advance was
given. General Sheridan, hat in hand, rode in front of his infantry line
that his men might see him. The Confederate forces now occupied a series
of wooded crests. From out of the shadow of one of these timbered coverts,
a column of gray was emerging. The Union lines stood waiting for the
impending crash. It came in a devouring succession of volleys that
reverberated into a deep and sullen roar. The Union infantry rose as one
man and passed in among the trees. Not a shot was heard. Then, suddenly,
there came a screaming, humming rush of shell, a roar of musketry mingling
with the yells of a successful charge. Again the firing ceased, except for
occasional outbursts. The Confederates had taken a new position and
reopened with a galling fire. General Sheridan dashed along the front of
his lines in personal charge of the attack. Again his men moved toward the
lines of Early's fast thinning ranks. It was the final charge. The Union
cavalry swept in behind the fleeing troops of Early and sent, again, his
veteran army "whirling up the Valley."

The battle of Cedar Creek was ended; the tumult died away. The Federal
loss had been about fifty-seven hundred; the Confederate over three
thousand. Fourteen hundred Union prisoners were sent to Richmond. Never
again would the gaunt specter of war hover over Washington.



"My bad old man," as General Lee playfully called him, was forty-eight
years of age when he made the brilliant Valley campaign of the summer of
1864, which was halted only by the superior forces of Sheridan. A West
Point graduate and a veteran of the Mexican War, Early became, after the
death of Jackson, one of Lee's most efficient subordinates. He was alert,
aggressive, resourceful. His very eccentricities, perhaps, made him all
the more successful as a commander of troops in the field. "Old Jube's"
caustic wit and austere ways made him a terror to stragglers, and who
shall say that his fluent, forcible profanity did not endear him to men
who were accustomed to like roughness of speech?



When the Capitol at Washington was threatened by the Confederate armies,
it was still an unfinished structure, betraying its incompleteness to
every beholder. This picture shows the derrick on the dome. It is a view
of the east front of the building and was taken on July 11, 1863.
Washington society had not been wholly free from occasional "war scares"
since the withdrawal of most of the troops whose duty it had been to guard
the city. Early's approach in July, 1864, found the Nation's capital
entirely unprotected. Naturally there was a flutter throughout the
peaceable groups of non-combatants that made up the population of
Washington at that time, as well as in official circles. There were less
than seventy thousand people living in the city in 1864, a large
proportion of whom were in some way connected with the Government.



The United States railroad photographer, Captain A. J. Russell, labeled
this picture of 1864: "Engines stored in Washington to prevent their
falling into Rebel hands in case of a raid on Alexandria." Here they are,
almost under the shadow of the Capitol dome (which had just been
completed). This was one of the precautions taken by the authorities at
Washington, of which the general public knew little or nothing at the
time. These photographs are only now revealing official secrets recorded
fifty years ago.



Heavy artillery like this was of comparatively little use in repulsing
such an attack as Early might be expected to make. Not only were these
guns hard to move to points of danger, but in the summer of '64 there were
no trained artillerists to man them. Big as they were, they gave Early no
occasion for alarm.



The sentry and vedette guarding the approach to Washington suggest one
reason why Early did not make his approach to the capital from the
Virginia side of the Potomac. A chain of more than twenty forts protected
the roads to Long Bridge (shown below), and there was no way of marching
troops into the city from the south, excepting over such exposed passages.
Most of the troops left for the defense of the city were on the Virginia
side. Therefore Early wisely picked out the northern outposts as the more
vulnerable. Long Bridge was closely guarded at all times, like Chain
Bridge and the other approaches, and at night the planks of its floor were





Constant drill at the guns went on in the defenses of Washington
throughout the war. At its close in April, 1865, there were 68 enclosed
forts and batteries, whose aggregate perimeter was thirteen miles, 807
guns and 98 mortars mounted, and emplacements for 1,120 guns, ninety-three
unarmed batteries for field-guns, 35,711 yards of rifle-trenches, and
three block-houses encircling the Northern capital. The entire extent of
front of the lines was thirty-seven miles; and thirty-two miles of
military roads, besides those previously existing in the District of
Columbia, formed the means of interior communication. In all these forts
constant preparation was made for a possible onslaught of the
Confederates, and many of the troops were trained which later went to take
part in the siege of Petersburg where the heavy artillery fought bravely
as infantry.





This is Fort Stevens (originally known as Fort Massachusetts), north of
Washington, near the Soldiers' Home, where President Lincoln had his
summer residence. It was to this outpost that Early's troops advanced on
July 12, 1864. In the fighting of that day Lincoln himself stood on the
ramparts, and a surgeon who stood by his side was wounded. These works
were feebly garrisoned, and General Gordon declared in his memoirs that
when the Confederate troops reached Fort Stevens they found it untenanted.
This photograph was taken after the occupation of the fort by Company F of
the Third Massachusetts Artillery.



Fort Stevens, on the north line of the defenses of Washington, bore the
brunt of the Confederate attack in the action of July 12, 1864, when Early
threatened Washington. The smooth-bore guns in its armament were two
8-inch siege-howitzers _en embrasure_, six 24-pounder siege-guns _en
embrasure_, two 24-pounder sea-coast guns _en barbette_. It was also armed
with five 30-pounder Parrott rifled guns, one 10-inch siege-mortar and one
24-pounder Coehorn mortar. Three of the platforms for siege-guns remained



Washington was no longer in danger when this photograph was taken, and the
company is taking its ease with small arms stacked--three rifles held
together by engaging the shanks of the bayonets. This is the usual way of
disposing of rifles when the company is temporarily dismissed for any
purpose. If the men are to leave the immediate vicinity of the stacks, a
sentinel is detailed to guard the arms. The Third Massachusetts Heavy
Artillery was organized for one year in August, 1864, and remained in the
defenses of Washington throughout their service, except for Company I,
which went to the siege of Petersburg and maintained the pontoon bridges.



The arrival of Grant's trained veterans in July, 1864, restored security
to the capital city after a week of fright. The fact that shells had been
thrown into the outskirts of the city gave the inhabitants for the first
time a realizing sense of immediate danger. This scene is the neighborhood
of Fort Stevens, on the Seventh Street road, not far from the Soldiers'
Home, where President Lincoln was spending the summer. The campaign for
his reëlection had begun and the outlook for his success and that of his
party seemed at this moment as dubious as that for the conclusion of the
war. Grant had weakened his lines about Richmond in order to protect
Washington, while Lee had been able to detach Early's Corps for the
brilliant Valley Campaign, which saved his Shenandoah supplies.



"Winchester" wore no such gaudy trappings when he sprang "up from the
South, at break of day" on that famous ride of October 19, 1864, which has
been immortalized in Thomas Buchanan Read's poem. The silver-mounted
saddle was presented later by admiring friends of his owner. The sleek
neck then was dark with sweat, and the quivering nostrils were flecked
with foam at the end of the twenty-mile dash that brought hope and courage
to an army and turned defeat into the overwhelming victory of Cedar Creek.
Sheridan himself was as careful of his appearance as Custer was irregular
in his field dress. He was always careful of his horse, but in the field
decked him in nothing more elaborate than a plain McClellan saddle and
army blanket.



Two generations of schoolboys in the Northern States have learned the
lines beginning, "Up from the south at break of day." This picture
represents Sheridan in 1864, wearing the same hat that he waved to rally
his soldiers on that famous ride from "Winchester, twenty miles away." As
he reined up his panting horse on the turnpike at Cedar Creek, he received
salutes from two future Presidents of the United States. The position on
the left of the road was held by Colonel Rutherford B. Hayes, who had
succeeded, after the rout of the Eighth Corps in the darkness of the early
morning, in rallying some fighting groups of his own brigade; while on the
right stood Major William McKinley, gallantly commanding the remnant of
his fighting regiment--the Twenty-third Ohio.


War-time portraits of six soldiers whose military records assisted them to
the Presidential Chair.

[Illustration: Garfield in '63--(left to right) Thomas, Wiles, Tyler,
Simmons, Drillard, Ducat, Barnett, Goddard, Rosecrans, Garfield, Porter,
Bond, Thompson, Sheridan.]

[Illustration: Brig.-Gen. Andrew Johnson, President, 1865-69.]

[Illustration: General Ulysses S. Grant, President, 1869-77.]

[Illustration: Bvt. Maj.-Gen. Rutherford B. Hayes, President, 1877-81.]

[Illustration: Maj.-Gen. James A. Garfield, President, March to September,

[Illustration: Bvt. Brig.-Gen. Benjamin Harrison, President, 1889-93.]

[Illustration: Brevet Major William McKinley, President, 1897-1901.]


After the disastrous clash of the two armies at Cold Harbor, Grant
remained a few days in his entrenchments trying in vain to find a weak
place in Lee's lines. The combatants were now due east of Richmond, and
the Federal general realized that it would be impossible at this time to
attain the object for which he had struggled ever since he crossed the
Rapidan on the 4th of May--to turn Lee's right flank and interpose his
forces between the Army of Northern Virginia and the capital of the
Confederacy. His opponent, one of the very greatest military leaders the
Anglo-Saxon race has produced, with an army of but little more than half
the number of the Federal host, had successfully blocked the attempts to
carry out this plan in three great battles and by a remarkable maneuver on
the southern bank of the North Anna, which had forced Grant to recross the
river and which will always remain a subject of curious interest to
students of the art of war.

In one month the Union army had lost fifty-five thousand men, while the
Confederate losses had been comparatively small. The cost to the North had
been too great; Lee could not be cut off from his capital, and the most
feasible project was now to join in the move which heretofore had been the
special object of General Butler and the Army of the James, and attack
Richmond itself. South of the city, at a distance of twenty-one miles, was
the town of Petersburg. Its defenses were not strong, although General
Gillmore of Butler's army had failed in an attempt to seize them on the
10th of June. Three railroads converged here and these were main arteries
of Lee's supply. Grant resolved to capture this important point. He sent
General W. F. Smith, who had come to his aid at Cold Harbor with the
flower of the Army of the James, back to Bermuda Hundred by water, as he
had come, with instructions to hasten to Petersburg before Lee could get
there. Smith arrived on the 15th and was joined by Hancock with the first
troops of the Army of the Potomac to appear, but the attack was not
pressed and Beauregard who, with only two thousand men, was in desperate
straits until Lee should reach him, managed to hold the inner line of

The last of Grant's forces were across the James by midnight of June 16th,
while Lee took a more westerly and shorter route to Petersburg. The
fighting there was continued as the two armies came up, but each Union
attack was successfully repulsed. At the close of day on the 18th both
opponents were in full strength and the greatest struggle of modern times
was begun. Impregnable bastioned works began to show themselves around
Petersburg. More than thirty miles of frowning redoubts connected
extensive breastworks and were strengthened by mortar batteries and
field-works which lined the fields near the Appomattox River. It was a
vast net of fortifications, but there was no formal siege of Lee's
position, which was a new entrenched line selected by Beauregard some
distance behind the rifle-pits where he had held out at such great odds
against Hancock and Smith.

Grant, as soon as the army was safely protected, started to extend his
lines on the west and south, in order to envelop the Confederate right
flank. He also bent his energies to destroying the railroads upon which
Lee depended for supplies. Attempts to do this were made without delay. On
June 22d two corps of the Union army set out for the Weldon Railroad, but
they became separated and were put to flight by A. P. Hill. The Federal
cavalry also joined in the work, but the vigilant Confederate horsemen
under W. H. F. Lee prevented any serious damage to the iron way, and by
July 2d the last of the raiders were back in the Federal lines, much the
worse for the rough treatment they had received.

Now ensued some weeks of quiet during which both armies were
strengthening their fortifications. On June 25th Sheridan returned from
his cavalry raid on the Virginia Central Railroad running north from
Richmond. He had encountered Hampton and Fitzhugh Lee at Trevilian Station
on June 11th, and turned back after doing great damage to the railway.
Ammunition was running short and he did not dare risk another engagement.
Sheridan was destined not to remain long with the army in front of
Petersburg. Lee had detached a corps from his forces and, under Early, it
had been doing great damage in Maryland and Pennsylvania. So Grant's
cavalry leader was put at the head of an army and sent to the Shenandoah
valley to drive Early's troops from the base of their operations.

Meanwhile the Federals were covertly engaged in an undertaking which was
fated to result in conspicuous failure. Some skilled miners from the upper
Schuylkill coal regions in the Forty-eighth Pennsylvania attached to the
Ninth Corps were boring a tunnel from the rear of the Union works
underneath the Confederate fortifications. Eight thousand pounds of
gunpowder were placed in lateral galleries at the end of the tunnel. At
twenty minutes to five on the morning of July 30th, the mine was exploded.
A solid mass of earth and all manner of material shot two hundred feet
into the air. Three hundred human beings were buried in the débris as it
fell back into the gaping crater. The smoke had barely cleared away when
General Ledlie led his waiting troops into the vast opening. The horror of
the sight sickened the assailants, and in crowding into the pit they
became completely demoralized. In the confusion officers lost power to
reorganize, much less to control, their troops.

The stunned and paralyzed Confederates were not long in recovering their
wits. Batteries opened upon the approach to the crater, and presently a
stream of fire was poured into the pit itself. General Mahone hastened up
with his Georgia and Virginia troops, and there were several desperate
charges before the Federals withdrew at Burnside's order. Grant had had
great expectations that the mine would result in his capturing Petersburg
and he was much disappointed. In order to get a part of Lee's army away
from the scene of what he hoped would be the final struggle, Hancock's
troops and a large force of cavalry had been sent north of the James, as
if a move on Richmond had been planned. In the mine fiasco on that fatal
July 30th, thirty-nine hundred men (nearly all from Burnside's corps) were
lost to the Union side. The Confederate loss was about one thousand.

In the torrid days of mid-August Grant renewed his attacks upon the Weldon
Railroad, and General Warren was sent to capture it. He reached Globe
Tavern, about four miles from Petersburg, when he encountered General
Heth, who drove him back. Warren did not return to the Federal lines but
entrenched along the iron way. The next day he was fiercely attacked by
the Confederate force now strongly reënforced by Mahone. The assault was
most sudden. Mahone forced his way through the skirmish line and then
turned and fought his opponents from their rear. Another of his divisions
struck the Union right wing. In this extremity two thousand of Warren's
troops were captured and all would have been lost but for the timely
arrival of Burnside's men.

Two days later the Southerners renewed the battle and now thirty cannon
poured volley after volley upon the Fifth and Ninth corps. The dashing
Mahone again came forward with his usual impetuousness, but the blue line
finally drove Lee's men back. And so the Weldon Railroad fell into the
hands of General Grant. Hancock, with the Second Corps, returned from the
north bank of the James and set to work to assist in destroying the
railway, whose loss was a hard blow to General Lee. It was not to be
expected that the latter would permit this work to continue unmolested and
on the 25th of August, A. P. Hill suddenly confronted Hancock, who
entrenched himself in haste at Ream's Station. This did not save the
Second Corps, which for the first time in its glorious career was put to
rout. Their very guns were captured and turned upon them.

In the following weeks there were no actions of importance except that in
the last days of September Generals Ord and Birney, with the Army of the
James, captured Fort Harrison, on the north bank of that river, from
Generals Ewell and Anderson. The Federals were anxious to have it, since
it was an excellent vantage point from which to threaten Richmond.
Meanwhile Grant was constantly extending his line to the west and by the
end of October it was very close to the South Side Railroad. On the 27th
there was a hard fight at Hatcher's Run, but the Confederates saved the
railway and the Federals returned to their entrenchments in front of

The active struggle now ceased, but Lee found himself each day in more
desperate straits. Sheridan had played sad havoc with such sources of
supply as existed in the rich country to the northwest. The Weldon
Railroad was gone and the South Side line was in imminent danger. The
Southerners were losing heart. Many went home for the winter on a promise
to return when the spring planting was done. Lee was loath to let them go,
but he could ill afford to maintain them, and the very life of their
families depended upon it. Those who remained at Petersburg suffered
cruelly from hunger and cold. They looked forward to the spring, although
it meant renewal of the mighty struggle. The Confederate line had been
stretched to oppose Grant's westward progress until it had become the
thinnest of screens. A man lost to Lee was almost impossible to replace,
while the bounties offered in the North kept Grant's ranks full.



General William Mahone, C. S. A. It was through the promptness and valor
of General Mahone that the Southerners, on July 30, 1864, were enabled to
turn back upon the Federals the disaster threatened by the hidden mine. On
the morning of the explosion there were but eighteen thousand Confederates
left to hold the ten miles of lines about Petersburg. Everything seemed to
favor Grant's plans for the crushing of this force. Immediately after the
mine was sprung, a terrific cannonade was opened from one hundred and
fifty guns and mortars to drive back the Confederates from the breach,
while fifty thousand Federals stood ready to charge upon the
panic-stricken foe. But the foe was not panic-stricken long. Colonel
McMaster, of the Seventeenth South Carolina, gathered the remnants of
General Elliott's brigade and held back the Federals massing at the Crater
until General Mahone arrived at the head of three brigades. At once he
prepared to attack the Federals, who at that moment were advancing to the
left of the Crater. Mahone ordered a counter-charge. In his inspiring
presence it swept with such vigor that the Federals were driven back and
dared not risk another assault. At the Crater, Lee had what Grant
lacked--a man able to direct the entire engagement.



The Crater, torn by the mine within Elliott's Salient. At dawn of July 30,
1864, the fifty thousand Federal troops waiting to make a charge saw a
great mass of earth hurled skyward like a water-spout. As it spread out
into an immense cloud, scattering guns, carriages, timbers, and what were
once human beings, the front ranks broke in panic; it looked as if the
mass were descending upon their own heads. The men were quickly rallied;
across the narrow plain they charged, through the awful breach, and up the
heights beyond to gain Cemetery Ridge. But there were brave fighters on
the other side still left, and delay among the Federals enabled the
Confederates to rally and re-form in time to drive the Federals back down
the steep sides of the Crater. There, as they struggled amidst the
horrible débris, one disaster after another fell upon them. Huddled
together, the mass of men was cut to pieces by the canister poured upon
them from well-planted Confederate batteries. At last, as a forlorn hope,
the colored troops were sent forward; and they, too, were hurled back into
the Crater and piled upon their white comrades.



[Illustration: RIVES' SALIENT]




Dotted with formidable fortifications such as these, Confederate works
stretched for ten miles around Petersburg. Fort Mahone was situated
opposite the Federal Fort Sedgwick at the point where the hostile lines
converged most closely after the battle of the Crater. Owing to the
constant cannonade which it kept up, the Federals named it Fort Damnation,
while Fort Sedgwick, which was no less active in reply, was known to the
Confederates as Fort Hell. Gracie's salient, further north on the
Confederate line, is notable as the point in front of which General John
B. Gordon's gallant troops moved to the attack on Fort Stedman, the last
desperate effort of the Confederates to break through the Federal cordon.
The views of Gracie's salient show the French form of chevaux-de-frise, a
favorite protection against attack much employed by the Confederates.



Hospital life for those well enough to enjoy it was far from dull. Witness
the white-clad nurse with her prim apron and hoopskirt on the right of the
photograph, and the band on the left. Most hospitals had excellent
libraries and a full supply of current newspapers and periodicals, usually
presented gratuitously. Many of the larger ones organized and maintained
bands for the amusement of the patients; they also provided lectures,
concerts, and theatrical and other entertainments. A hospital near the
front receiving cases of the most severe character might have a death-rate
as high as twelve per cent., while those farther in the rear might have a
very much lower death-rate of but six, four, or even two per cent. The
portrait accompanying shows Louisa M. Alcott, the author of "Little Men,"
"Little Women," "An Old Fashioned Girl," and the other books that have
endeared her to millions of readers. Her diary of 1862 contains this
characteristic note: "November. Thirty years old. Decided to go to
Washington as a nurse if I could find a place. Help needed, and I love
nursing and must let out my pent-up energy in some new way." She had not
yet attained fame as a writer, but it was during this time that she wrote
for a newspaper the letters afterwards collected as "Hospital Sketches."
It is due to the courtesy of Messrs. Little, Brown & Company of Boston
that the war-time portrait is here reproduced.

IN 1862]


_Painted by Robert Hopkin._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


    I only regarded the march from Atlanta to Savannah as a "shift of
    base," as the transfer of a strong army, which had no opponent, and
    had finished its then work, from the interior to a point on the sea
    coast, from which it could achieve other important results. I
    considered this march as a means to an end, and not as an essential
    act of war. Still, then as now, the march to the sea was generally
    regarded as something extraordinary, something anomalous, something
    out of the usual order of events; whereas, in fact, I simply moved
    from Atlanta to Savannah, as one step in the direction of Richmond, a
    movement that had to be met and defeated, or the war was necessarily
    at an end.--_General W. T. Sherman, in his "Memoirs."_

The march to the sea, in which General William T. Sherman won undying fame
in the Civil War, is one of the greatest pageants in the world's
warfare--as fearful in its destruction as it is historic in its import.
But this was not Sherman's chief achievement; it was an easy task compared
with the great campaign between Chattanooga and Atlanta through which he
had just passed. "As a military accomplishment it was little more than a
grand picnic," declared one of his division commanders, in speaking of the
march through Georgia and the Carolinas.

Almost immediately after the capture of Atlanta, Sherman, deciding to
remain there for some time and to make it a Federal military center,
ordered all the inhabitants to be removed. General Hood pronounced the act
one of ingenious cruelty, transcending any that had ever before come to
his notice in the dark history of the war. Sherman insisted that his act
was one of kindness, and that Johnston and Hood themselves had done the
same--removed families from their homes--in other places. The decision was
fully carried out. Many of the people of Atlanta chose to go southward,
others to the north, the latter being transported free, by Sherman's
order, as far as Chattanooga.

Shortly after the middle of September, Hood moved his army from Lovejoy's
Station, just south of Atlanta, to the vicinity of Macon. Here Jefferson
Davis visited the encampment, and on the 22d he made a speech to the
homesick Army of Tennessee, which, reported in the Southern newspapers,
disclosed to Sherman the new plans of the Confederate leaders. These
involved nothing less than a fresh invasion of Tennessee, which, in the
opinion of President Davis, would put Sherman in a predicament worse than
that in which Napoleon found himself at Moscow. But, forewarned, the
Federal leader prepared to thwart his antagonists. The line of the Western
and Atlantic Railroad was more closely guarded. Divisions were sent to
Rome and to Chattanooga. Thomas was ordered to Nashville, and Schofield to
Knoxville. Recruits were hastened from the North to these points, in order
that Sherman himself might not be weakened by the return of too many
troops to these places.

Hood, in the hope of leading Sherman away from Atlanta, crossed the
Chattahoochee on the 1st of October, destroyed the railroad above Marietta
and sent General French against Allatoona. It was the brave defense of
this place by General John M. Corse that brought forth Sherman's famous
message, "Hold out; relief is coming," sent by his signal officers from
the heights of Kenesaw Mountain, and which thrilled the North and inspired
its poets to eulogize Corse's bravery in verse. Corse had been ordered
from Rome to Allatoona by signals from mountain to mountain, over the
heads of the Confederate troops, who occupied the valley between. Reaching
the mountain pass soon after midnight, on October 5th, Corse added his
thousand men to the nine hundred already there, and soon after daylight
the battle began. General French, in command of the Confederates, first
summoned Corse to surrender, and, receiving a defiant answer, opened with
his guns. Nearly all the day the fire was terrific from besieged and
besiegers, and the losses on both sides were very heavy.

During the battle Sherman was on Kenesaw Mountain, eighteen miles away,
from which he could see the cloud of smoke and hear the faint
reverberation of the cannons' boom. When he learned by signal that Corse
was there and in command, he said, "If Corse is there, he will hold out; I
know the man." And he did hold out, and saved the stores at Allatoona, at
a loss of seven hundred of his men, he himself being among the wounded,
while French lost about eight hundred.

General Hood continued to move northward to Resaca and Dalton, passing
over the same ground on which the two great armies had fought during the
spring and summer. He destroyed the railroads, burned the ties, and
twisted the rails, leaving greater havoc, if possible, in a country that
was already a wilderness of desolation. For some weeks Sherman followed
Hood in the hope that a general engagement would result. But Hood had no
intention to fight. He went on to the banks of the Tennessee opposite
Florence, Alabama. His army was lightly equipped, and Sherman, with his
heavily burdened troops, was unable to catch him. Sherman halted at
Gaylesville and ordered Schofield, with the Twenty-third Corps, and
Stanley, with the Fourth Corps, to Thomas at Nashville.

Sherman thereupon determined to return to Atlanta, leaving General Thomas
to meet Hood's appearance in Tennessee. It was about this time that
Sherman fully decided to march to the sea. Some time before this he had
telegraphed to Grant: "Hood ... can constantly break my roads. I would
infinitely prefer to make a wreck of the road ... send back all my wounded
and worthless, and, with my effective army, move through Georgia, smashing
things to the sea." Grant thought it best for Sherman to destroy Hood's
army first, but Sherman insisted that his plan would put him on the
offensive rather than the defensive. He also believed that Hood would be
forced to follow him. Grant was finally won to the view that if Hood moved
on Tennessee, Thomas would be able to check him. He had, on the 11th of
October, given permission for the march. Now, on the 2d of November, he
telegraphed Sherman at Rome: "I do not really see that you can withdraw
from where you are to follow Hood without giving up all we have gained in
territory. I say, then, go on as you propose." It was Sherman, and not
Grant or Lincoln, that conceived the great march, and while the march
itself was not seriously opposed or difficult to carry out, the conception
and purpose were masterly.

Sherman moved his army by slow and easy stages back to Atlanta. He sent
the vast army stores that had collected at Atlanta, which he could not
take with him, as well as his sick and wounded, to Chattanooga, destroyed
the railroad to that place, also the machine-shops at Rome and other
places, and on November 12th, after receiving a final despatch from Thomas
and answering simply, "Despatch received--all right," the last telegraph
line was severed, and Sherman had deliberately cut himself off from all
communication with the Northern States. There is no incident like it in
the annals of war. A strange event it was, as Sherman observes in his
memoirs. "Two hostile armies marching in opposite directions, each in the
full belief that it was achieving a final and conclusive result in a great

For the next two days all was astir in Atlanta. The great depot,
round-house, and machine-shops were destroyed. Walls were battered down;
chimneys pulled over; machinery smashed to pieces, and boilers punched
full of holes. Heaps of rubbish covered the spots where these fine
buildings had stood, and on the night of November 15th the vast débris was
set on fire. The torch was also applied to many places in the business
part of the city, in defiance of the strict orders of Captain Poe, who
had the work of destruction in charge. The court-house and a large part of
the dwellings escaped the flames.

Preparations for the great march were made with extreme care. Defective
wagons and horses were discarded; the number of heavy guns to be carried
along was sixty-five, the remainder having been sent to Chattanooga. The
marching army numbered about sixty thousand, five thousand of whom
belonged to the cavalry and eighteen hundred to the artillery. The army
was divided into two immense wings, the Right, the Army of the Tennessee,
commanded by General O. O. Howard, and consisting of the Fifteenth and
Seventeenth corps, and the Left, the Army of Georgia, by General Henry W.
Slocum, composed the Fourteenth and Twentieth corps. Sherman himself was
in supreme command. There were twenty-five hundred wagons, each drawn by
six mules; six hundred ambulances, with two horses each, while the heavy
guns, caissons, and forges were each drawn by eight horses. A twenty days'
supply of bread, forty of coffee, sugar, and salt was carried with the
army, and a large herd of cattle was driven on foot.

In Sherman's general instructions it was provided that the army should
march by four roads as nearly parallel as possible, except the cavalry,
which remained under the direct control of the general commanding. The
army was directed "to forage liberally on the country," but, except along
the roadside, this was to be done by organized foraging parties appointed
by the brigade commanders. Orders were issued forbidding soldiers to enter
private dwellings or to commit any trespass. The corps commanders were
given the option of destroying mills, cotton-gins, and the like, and where
the army was molested in its march by the burning of bridges, obstructing
the roads, and so forth, the devastation should be made "more or less
relentless, according to the measure of such hostility." The cavalry and
artillery and the foraging parties were permitted to take horses, mules,
and wagons from the inhabitants without limit, except that they were to
discriminate in favor of the poor. It was a remarkable military
undertaking, in which it was intended to remove restrictions only to a
sufficient extent to meet the requirements of the march. The cavalry was
commanded by General Judson Kilpatrick, who, after receiving a severe
wound at Resaca, in May, had gone to his home on the banks of the Hudson,
in New York, to recuperate, and, against the advice of his physician, had
joined the army again at Atlanta.

On November 15th, most of the great army was started on its march, Sherman
himself riding out from the city next morning. As he rode near the spot
where General McPherson had fallen, he paused and looked back at the
receding city with its smoking ruins, its blackened walls, and its lonely,
tenantless houses. The vision of the desperate battles, of the hope and
fear of the past few months, rose before him, as he tells us, "like the
memory of a dream." The day was as perfect as Nature ever gives. The men
were hilarious. They sang and shouted and waved their banners in the
autumn breeze. Most of them supposed they were going directly toward
Richmond, nearly a thousand miles away. As Sherman rode past them they
would call out, "Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at
Richmond." Only the commanders of the wings and Kilpatrick were entrusted
with the secret of Sherman's intentions. But even Sherman was not fully
decided as to his objective--Savannah, Georgia, or Port Royal, South
Carolina--until well on the march.

There was one certainty, however--he was fully decided to keep the
Confederates in suspense as to his intentions. To do this the more
effectually he divided his army at the start, Howard leading his wing to
Gordon by way of McDonough as if to threaten Macon, while Slocum proceeded
to Covington and Madison, with Milledgeville as his goal. Both were
secretly instructed to halt, seven days after starting, at Gordon and
Milledgeville, the latter the capital of Georgia, about a hundred miles to
the southeast. These two towns were about fifteen miles apart.

General Hood and General Beauregard, who had come from the East to assist
him, were in Tennessee, and it was some days after Sherman had left
Atlanta that they heard of his movements. They realized that to follow him
would now be futile. He was nearly three hundred miles away, and not only
were the railroads destroyed, but a large part of the intervening country
was utterly laid waste and incapable of supporting an army. The
Confederates thereupon turned their attention to Thomas, who was also in
Tennessee, and was the barrier between Hood and the Northern States.

General Sherman accompanied first one corps of his army and then another.
The first few days he spent with Davis' corps of Slocum's wing. When they
reached Covington, the negroes met the troops in great numbers, shouting
and thanking the Lord that "deliverance" had come at last. As Sherman rode
along the streets they would gather around his horse and exhibit every
evidence of adoration.

The foraging parties consisted of companies of fifty men. Their route for
the day in which they obtained supplies was usually parallel to that of
the army, five or six miles from it. They would start out before daylight
in the morning, many of them on foot; but when they rejoined the column in
the evening they were no longer afoot. They were astride mules, horses, in
family carriages, farm wagons, and mule carts, which they packed with
hams, bacon, vegetables, chickens, ducks, and every imaginable product of
a Southern farm that could be useful to an army.

In the general orders, Sherman had forbidden the soldiers to enter private
houses; but the order was not strictly adhered to, as many Southern people
have since testified. Sherman declares in his memoirs that these acts of
pillage and violence were exceptional and incidental. On one occasion
Sherman saw a man with a ham on his musket, a jug of molasses under his
arm, and a big piece of honey in his hand. As the man saw that he was
observed by the commander, he quoted audibly to a comrade, from the
general order, "forage liberally on the country." But the general reproved
him and explained that foraging must be carried on only by regularly
designated parties.

It is a part of military history that Sherman's sole purpose was to weaken
the Confederacy by recognized means of honorable warfare; but it cannot be
denied that there were a great many instances, unknown to him,
undoubtedly, of cowardly hold-ups of the helpless inhabitants, or
ransacking of private boxes and drawers in search of jewelry and other
family treasure. This is one of the misfortunes of war--one of war's
injustices. Such practices always exist even under the most rigid
discipline in great armies, and the jubilation of this march was such that
human nature asserted itself in the license of warfare more than on most
other occasions. General Washington met with similar situations in the
American Revolution. The practice is never confined to either army in

Opposed to Sherman were Wheeler's cavalry, and a large portion of the
Georgia State troops which were turned over by General G. W. Smith to
General Howell Cobb. Kilpatrick and his horsemen, proceeding toward Macon,
were confronted by Wheeler and Cobb, but the Federal troopers drove them
back into the town. However, they issued forth again, and on November 21st
there was a sharp engagement with Kilpatrick at Griswoldville. The
following day the Confederates were definitely checked and retreated.

The night of November 22d, Sherman spent in the home of General Cobb, who
had been a member of the United States Congress and of Buchanan's Cabinet.
Thousands of soldiers encamped that night on Cobb's plantation, using his
fences for camp-fire fuel. By Sherman's order, everything on the
plantation movable or destructible was carried away next day, or
destroyed. Such is the price of war.

By the next night both corps of the Left Wing were at Milledgeville, and
on the 24th started for Sandersville. Howard's wing was at Gordon, and it
left there on the day that Slocum moved from Milledgeville for Irwin's
Crossroads. A hundred miles below Milledgeville was a place called Millen,
and here were many Federal prisoners which Sherman greatly desired to
release. With this in view he sent Kilpatrick toward Augusta to give the
impression that the army was marching thither, lest the Confederates
should remove the prisoners from Millen. Kilpatrick had reached Waynesboro
when he learned that the prisoners had been taken away. Here he again
encountered the Confederate cavalry under General Wheeler. A sharp fight
ensued and Kilpatrick drove Wheeler through the town toward Augusta. As
there was no further need of making a feint on Augusta, Kilpatrick turned
back toward the Left Wing. Wheeler quickly followed and at Thomas' Station
nearly surrounded him, but Kilpatrick cut his way out. Wheeler still
pressed on and Kilpatrick chose a good position at Buck Head Creek,
dismounted, and threw up breastworks. Wheeler attacked desperately, but
was repulsed, and Kilpatrick, after being reënforced by a brigade from
Davis' corps, joined the Left Wing at Louisville.

On the whole, the great march was but little disturbed by the
Confederates. The Georgia militia, probably ten thousand in all, did what
they could to defend their homes and their firesides; but their endeavors
were futile against the vast hosts that were sweeping through the country.
In the skirmishes that took place between Atlanta and the sea the militia
was soon brushed aside. Even their destroying of bridges and supplies in
front of the invading army checked its progress but for a moment, as it
was prepared for every such emergency. Wheeler, with his cavalry, caused
more trouble, and engaged Kilpatrick's attention a large part of the time.
But even he did not seriously retard the irresistible progress of the
legions of the North.

The great army kept on its way by various routes, covering about fifteen
miles a day, and leaving a swath of destruction, from forty to sixty miles
wide, in its wake. Among the details attendant upon the march to the sea
was that of scientifically destroying the railroads that traversed the
region. Battalions of engineers had received special instruction in the
art, together with the necessary implements to facilitate rapid work. But
the infantry soon entered this service, too, and it was a common sight to
see a thousand soldiers in blue standing beside a stretch of railway, and,
when commanded, bend as one man and grasp the rail, and at a second
command to raise in unison, which brought a thousand railroad ties up on
end. Then the men fell upon them, ripping rail and tie apart, the rails to
be heated to a white heat and bent in fantastic shapes about some
convenient tree or other upright column, the ties being used as the fuel
with which to make the fires. All public buildings that might have a
military use were burned, together with a great number of private
dwellings and barns, some by accident, others wantonly. This fertile and
prosperous region, after the army had passed, was a scene of ruin and

As the army progressed, throngs of escaped slaves followed in its trail,
"from the baby in arms to the old negro hobbling painfully along," says
General Howard, "negroes of all sizes, in all sorts of patched costumes,
with carts and broken-down horses and mules to match." Many of the old
negroes found it impossible to keep pace with the army for many days, and
having abandoned their homes and masters who could have cared for them,
they were left to die of hunger and exposure in that naked land.

After the Ogeechee River was crossed, the character of the country was
greatly changed from that of central Georgia. No longer were there fertile
farms, laden with their Southern harvests of corn and vegetables, but
rather rice plantations and great pine forests, the solemn stillness of
which was broken by the tread of thousands of troops, the rumbling of
wagon-trains, and by the shouts and music of the marching men and of the
motley crowd of negroes that followed.

Day by day Sherman issued orders for the progress of the wings, but on
December 2d they contained the decisive words, "Savannah." What a tempting
prize was this fine Southern city, and how the Northern commander would
add to his laurels could he effect its capture! The memories clinging
about the historic old town, with its beautiful parks and its
magnolia-lined streets, are part of the inheritance of not only the South,
but of all America. Here Oglethorpe had bartered with the wild men of the
forest, and here, in the days of the Revolution, Count Pulaski and
Sergeant Jasper had given up their lives in the cause of liberty.

Sherman had partially invested the city before the middle of December; but
it was well fortified and he refrained from assault. General Hardee, sent
by Hood from Tennessee, had command of the defenses, with about eighteen
thousand men. And there was Fort McAllister on the Ogeechee, protecting
the city on the south. But this obstruction to the Federals was soon
removed. General Hazen's division of the Fifteenth Corps was sent to
capture the fort. At five o'clock in the afternoon of the 13th Hazen's men
rushed through a shower of grape, over abatis and hidden torpedoes, scaled
the parapet and captured the garrison. That night Sherman boarded the
_Dandelion_, a Union vessel, in the river, and sent a message to the
outside world, the first since he had left Atlanta.

Henceforth there was communication between the army and the Federal
squadron, under the command of Admiral Dahlgren. Among the vessels that
came up the river there was one that was received with great enthusiasm by
the soldiers. It brought mail, tons of it, for Sherman's army, the
accumulation of two months. One can imagine the eagerness with which
these war-stained veterans opened the longed-for letters and sought the
answer to the ever-recurring question, "How are things at home?"

Sherman had set his heart on capturing Savannah; but, on December 15th, he
received a letter from Grant which greatly disturbed him. Grant ordered
him to leave his artillery and cavalry, with infantry enough to support
them, and with the remainder of his army to come by sea to Virginia and
join the forces before Richmond. Sherman prepared to obey, but hoped that
he would be able to capture the city before the transports would be ready
to carry him northward.

He first called on Hardee to surrender the city, with a threat of
bombardment. Hardee refused. Sherman hesitated to open with his guns
because of the bloodshed it would occasion, and on December 21st he was
greatly relieved to discover that Hardee had decided not to defend the
city, that he had escaped with his army the night before, by the one road
that was still open to him, which led across the Savannah River into the
Carolinas. The stream had been spanned by an improvised pontoon bridge,
consisting of river-boats, with planks from city wharves for flooring and
with old car-wheels for anchors. Sherman immediately took possession of
the city, and on December 22d he sent to President Lincoln this message:
"I beg to present to you, as a Christmas gift, the city of Savannah, with
one hundred and fifty heavy guns and plenty of ammunition, and also about
twenty-five thousand bales of cotton." As a matter of fact, over two
hundred and fifty guns were captured, and thirty-one thousand bales of
cotton. General Hardee retreated to Charleston.

Events in the West now changed Grant's views as to Sherman's joining him
immediately in Virginia. On the 16th of December, General Thomas
accomplished the defeat and utter rout of Hood's army at Nashville. In
addition, it was found that, owing to lack of transports, it would take at
least two months to transfer Sherman's whole army by sea. Therefore, it
was decided that Sherman should march through the Carolinas, destroying
the railroads in both States as he went. A little more than a month
Sherman remained in Savannah. Then he began another great march, compared
with which, as Sherman himself declared, the march to the sea was as
child's play. The size of his army on leaving Savannah was practically the
same as when he left Atlanta--sixty thousand. It was divided into two
wings, under the same commanders, Howard and Slocum, and was to be
governed by the same rules. Kilpatrick still commanded the cavalry. The
march from Savannah averaged ten miles a day, which, in view of the
conditions, was a very high average. The weather in the early part of the
journey was exceedingly wet and the roads were well-nigh impassable. Where
they were not actually under water the mud rendered them impassable until
corduroyed. Moreover, the troops had to wade streams, to drag themselves
through swamps and quagmires, and to remove great trees that had been
felled across their pathway.

The city of Savannah was left under the control of General J. G. Foster,
and the Left Wing of Sherman's army under Slocum moved up the Savannah
River, accompanied by Kilpatrick, and crossed it at Sister's Ferry. The
river was overflowing its banks and the crossing, by means of a pontoon
bridge, was effected with the greatest difficulty. The Right Wing, under
Howard, embarked for Beaufort, South Carolina, and moved thence to
Pocotaligo, near the Broad River, whither Sherman had preceded it, and the
great march northward was fairly begun by February 1, 1865.

Sherman had given out the word that he expected to go to Charleston or
Augusta, his purpose being to deceive the Confederates, since he had made
up his mind to march straight to Columbia, the capital of South Carolina.

The two wings of the army were soon united and they continued their great
march from one end of the State of South Carolina to the other. The men
felt less restraint in devastating the country and despoiling the people
than they had felt in Georgia. The reason for this, given by Sherman and
others, was that there was a feeling of bitterness against South Carolina
as against no other State. It was this State that had led the procession
of seceding States and that had fired on Fort Sumter and brought on the
great war. No doubt this feeling, which pervaded the army, will account in
part for the reckless dealing with the inhabitants by the Federal
soldiery. The superior officers, however, made a sincere effort to
restrain lawlessness.

On February 17th, Sherman entered Columbia, the mayor having come out and
surrendered the city. The Fifteenth Corps marched through the city and out
on the Camden road, the remainder of the army not having come within two
miles of the city. On that night Columbia was in flames. The conflagration
spread and ere the coming of the morning the best part of the city had
been laid in ashes.

Before Sherman left Columbia he destroyed the machine-shops and everything
else which might aid the Confederacy. He left with the mayor one hundred
stand of arms with which to keep order, and five hundred head of cattle
for the destitute.

As Columbia was approached by the Federals, the occupation of Charleston
by the Confederates became more and more untenable. In vain had the
governor of South Carolina pleaded with President Davis to reënforce
General Hardee, who occupied the city. Hardee thereupon evacuated the
historic old city--much of which was burned, whether by design or accident
is not known--and its defenses, including Fort Sumter, the bombardment of
which, nearly four years before, had precipitated the mighty conflict,
were occupied by Colonel Bennett, who came over from Morris Island.

On March 11th, Sherman reached Fayetteville, North Carolina, where he
destroyed a fine arsenal. Hitherto, Sherman's march, except for the
annoyance of Wheeler's cavalry, had been but slightly impeded by the
Confederates. But henceforth this was changed. General Joseph B.
Johnston, his old foe of Resaca and Kenesaw Mountain, had been recalled
and was now in command of the troops in the Carolinas. No longer would the
streams and the swamps furnish the only resistance to the progress of the
Union army.

The first engagement came at Averysboro on March 16th. General Hardee,
having taken a strong position, made a determined stand; but a division of
Slocum's wing, aided by Kilpatrick, soon put him to flight, with the loss
of several guns and over two hundred prisoners.

The battle of Bentonville, which took place three days after that of
Averysboro, was more serious. Johnston had placed his whole army, probably
thirty-five thousand men, in the form of a V, the sides embracing the
village of Bentonville. Slocum engaged the Confederates while Howard was
hurried to the scene. On two days, the 19th and 20th of March, Sherman's
army fought its last battle in the Civil War. But Johnston, after making
several attacks, resulting in considerable losses on both sides, withdrew
his army during the night, and the Union army moved to Goldsboro. The
losses at Bentonville were: Federal, 1,527; Confederate, 2,606.

At Goldsboro the Union army was reënforced by its junction with Schofield,
who had come out of the West with over twenty-two thousand men from the
army of Thomas in Tennessee. But there was little need of reënforcement.
Sherman's third great march was practically over. As to the relative
importance of the second and third, Sherman declares in his memoirs, he
would place that from Atlanta to the sea at one, and that from Savannah
through the Carolinas at ten.

Leaving his army in charge of Schofield, Sherman went to City Point, in
Virginia, where he had a conference with General Grant and President
Lincoln, and plans for the final campaign were definitely arranged. He
returned to Goldsboro late in March, and, pursuing Johnston, received,
finally, on April 26th the surrender of his army.



These two photographs of General Sherman were taken in 1864--the year that
made him an international figure, before his march to the sea which
electrified the civilized world, and exposed once for all the crippled
condition of the Confederacy. After that autumn expedition, the problem of
the Union generals was merely to contend with detached armies, no longer
with the combined States of the Confederacy. The latter had no means of
extending further support to the dwindling troops in the field. Sherman
was the chief Union exponent of the tactical gift that makes marches count
as much as fighting. In the early part of 1864 he made his famous raid
across Mississippi from Jackson to Meridian and back again, destroying the
railroads, Confederate stores, and other property, and desolating the
country along the line of march. In May he set out from Chattanooga for
the invasion of Georgia. For his success in this campaign he was
appointed, on August 12th, a major-general in the regular army. On
November 12th, he started with the pick of his men on his march to the
sea. After the capture of Savannah, December 21st, Sherman's fame was
secure; yet he was one of the most heartily execrated leaders of the war.
There is a hint of a smile in the right-hand picture. The left-hand
portrait reveals all the sternness and determination of a leader
surrounded by dangers, about to penetrate an enemy's country against the
advice of accepted military authorities.



As this photograph was taken, the wagons stood in the street of Atlanta
ready to accompany the Federals in their impending march to the sea. The
most interesting thing is the bank building on the corner, completely
destroyed, although around it stand the stores of merchants entirely
untouched. Evidently there had been here faithful execution of Sherman's
orders to his engineers--to destroy all buildings and property of a public
nature, such as factories, foundries, railroad stations, and the like; but
to protect as far as possible strictly private dwellings and enterprises.
Those of a later generation who witnessed the growth of Atlanta within
less than half a century after this photograph was taken, and saw tall
office-buildings and streets humming with industry around the location in
this photograph, will find in it an added fascination.



Here Sherman's men are seen at daily drill in Atlanta. This photograph has
an interest beyond most war pictures, for it gives a clear idea of the
soldierly bearing of the men that were to march to the sea. There was an
easy carelessness in their appearance copied from their great commander,
but they were never allowed to become slouchy. Sherman was the antithesis
of a martinet, but he had, in the Atlanta campaign, molded his army into
the "mobile machine" that he desired it to be, and he was anxious to keep
the men up to this high pitch of efficiency for the performance of still
greater deeds. No better disciplined army existed in the world at the time
Sherman's "bummers" set out for the sea.



"On the 12th of November the railroad and telegraph communications with
the rear were broken and the army stood detached from all friends,
dependent on its own resources and supplies," writes Sherman. Meanwhile
all detachments were marching rapidly to Atlanta with orders to break up
the railroad en route and "generally to so damage the country as to make
it untenable to the enemy." This was a necessary war measure. Sherman, in
a home letter written from Grand Gulf, Mississippi, May 6, 1863, stated
clearly his views regarding the destruction of property. Speaking of the
wanton havoc wrought on a fine plantation in the path of the army, he
added: "It is done, of course, by the accursed stragglers who won't fight
but hang behind and disgrace our cause and country. Dr. Bowie had fled,
leaving everything on the approach of our troops. Of course, devastation
marked the whole path of the army, and I know all the principal officers
detest the infamous practice as much as I do. Of course, I expect and do
take corn, bacon, ham, mules, and everything to support an army, and don't
object much to the using of fences for firewood, but this universal
burning and wanton destruction of private property is not justified in



Sherman's men worked like beavers during their last few days in Atlanta.
There was no time to be lost; the army was gotten under way with that
precision which marked all Sherman's movements. In the upper picture,
finishing touches are being put to the railroad, and in the lower is seen
the short work that was made of such public buildings as might be of the
slightest use in case the Confederates should recapture the town. As far
back as Chattanooga, while plans for the Atlanta campaign were being
formed, Sherman had been revolving a subsequent march to the sea in case
he was successful. He had not then made up his mind whether it should be
in the direction of Mobile or Savannah, but his Meridian campaign, in
Mississippi, had convinced him that the march was entirely feasible, and
gradually he worked out in his mind its masterly details. At seven in the
morning on November 16th, Sherman rode out along the Decatur road, passed
his marching troops, and near the spot where his beloved McPherson had
fallen, paused for a last look at the city. "Behind us," he says, "lay
Atlanta, smouldering and in ruins, the black smoke rising high in air and
hanging like a pall over the ruined city." All about could be seen the
glistening gun-barrels and white-topped wagons, "and the men marching
steadily and rapidly with a cheery look and swinging pace." Some
regimental band struck up "John Brown," and the thousands of voices of the
vast army joined with a mighty chorus in song. A feeling of exhilaration
pervaded the troops. This marching into the unknown held for them the
allurement of adventure, as none but Sherman knew their destination. But
as he worked his way past them on the road, many a group called out,
"Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond." The
devil-may-care spirit of the troops brought to Sherman's mind grave
thoughts of his own responsibility. He knew that success would be regarded
as a matter of course, but should he fail the march would be set down as
"the wild adventure of a crazy fool." He had no intention of marching
directly to Richmond, but from the first his objective was the seacoast,
at Savannah or Port Royal, or even Pensacola, Florida.

[Illustration: RUINS IN ATLANTA]



In Hood's hasty evacuation of Atlanta many of his guns were left behind.
These 12-pounder Napoleon bronze field-pieces have been gathered by the
Federals from the abandoned fortifications, which had been equipped
entirely with field artillery, such as these. It was an extremely useful
capture for Sherman's army, whose supply of artillery had been somewhat
limited during the siege, and still further reduced by the necessity to
fortify Atlanta. On the march to the sea Sherman took with him only
sixty-five field-pieces. The Negro refugees in the lower picture recall an
embarrassment of the march to the sea. "Negroes of all sizes" flocked in
the army's path and stayed there, a picturesque procession, holding
tightly to the skirts of the army which they believed had come for the
sole purpose of setting them free. The cavalcade of Negroes soon became so
numerous that Sherman became anxious for his army's sustenance, and
finding an old gray-haired black at Covington, Sherman explained to him
carefully that if the Negroes continued to swarm after the army it would
fail in its purpose and they would not get their freedom. Sherman believed
that the old man spread this news to the slaves along the line of march,
and in part saved the army from being overwhelmed by the contrabands.




The task of General Hardee in defending Savannah was one of peculiar
difficulty. He had only eighteen thousand men, and he was uncertain where
Sherman would strike. Some supposed that Sherman would move at once upon
Charleston, but Hardee argued that the Union army would have to establish
a new base of supplies on the seacoast before attempting to cross the
numerous deep rivers and swamps of South Carolina. Hardee's task therefore
was to hold Savannah just as long as possible, and then to withdraw
northward to unite with the troops which General Bragg was assembling, and
with the detachments scattered at this time over the Carolinas. In
protecting his position around Savannah, Fort McAllister was of prime
importance, since it commanded the Great Ogeechee River in such a way as
to prevent the approach of the Federal fleet, Sherman's dependence for
supplies. It was accordingly manned by a force of two hundred under
command of Major G. W. Anderson, provided with fifty days' rations for use
in case the work became isolated. This contingency did not arrive. About
noon of December 13th, Major Anderson's men saw troops in blue moving
about in the woods. The number increased. The artillery on the land side
of the fort was turned upon them as they advanced from one position to
another, and sharpshooters picked off some of their officers. At half-past
four o'clock, however, the long-expected charge was made from three
different directions, so that the defenders, too few in number to hold the
whole line, were soon overpowered. Hardee now had to consider more
narrowly the best time for withdrawing from the lines at Savannah.



[Illustration: WATERFRONT AT SAVANNAH, 1865


Savannah was better protected by nature from attack by land or water than
any other city near the Atlantic seaboard. Stretching to the north, east,
and southward lay swamps and morasses through which ran the river-approach
of twelve miles to the town. Innumerable small creeks separated the
marshes into islands over which it was out of the question for an army to
march without first building roads and bridging miles of waterways. The
Federal fleet had for months been on the blockade off the mouth of the
river, and Savannah had been closed to blockade runners since the fall of
Fort Pulaski in April, 1862. But obstructions and powerful batteries held
the river, and Fort McAllister, ten miles to the south, on the Ogeechee,
still held the city safe in its guardianship.





Across these ditches at Fort McAllister, through entangling abatis, over
palisading, the Federals had to fight every inch of their way against the
Confederate garrison up to the very doors of their bomb-proofs, before the
defenders yielded on December 13th. Sherman had at once perceived that the
position could be carried only by a land assault. The fort was strongly
protected by ditches, palisades, and plentiful abatis; marshes and streams
covered its flanks, but Sherman's troops knew that shoes and clothing and
abundant rations were waiting for them just beyond it, and had any of them
been asked if they could take the fort their reply would have been in the
words of the poem: "Ain't we simply got to take it?" Sherman selected for
the honor of the assault General Hazen's second division of the Fifteenth
Corps, the same which he himself had commanded at Shiloh and Vicksburg.
Gaily the troops crossed the bridge on the morning of the 13th. Sherman
was watching anxiously through his glass late in the afternoon when a
Federal steamer came up the river and signaled the query: "Is Fort
McAllister taken?" To which Sherman sent reply: "Not yet, but it will be
in a minute." At that instant Sherman saw Hazen's troops emerge from the
woods before the fort, "the lines dressed as on parade, with colors
flying." Immediately dense clouds of smoke belching from the fort
enveloped the Federals. There was a pause; the smoke cleared away, and,
says Sherman, "the parapets were blue with our men." Fort McAllister was

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, PATRIOT PUB. CO.]



Fort McAllister is at last in complete possession of the Federals, and a
group of the men who had charged over these ramparts has arranged itself
before the camera as if in the very act of firing the great gun that
points seaward across the marshes, toward Ossabaw Sound. There is one very
peculiar thing proved by this photograph--the gun itself is almost in a
fixed position as regards range and sweep of fire. Instead of the
elevating screw to raise or depress the muzzle, there has been substituted
a block of wood wedged with a heavy spike, and the narrow pit in which the
gun carriage is sunk admits of it being turned but a foot or so to right
or left. It evidently controlled one critical point in the river, but
could not have been used in lending any aid to the repelling of General
Hazen's attack. The officer pointing with outstretched arm is indicating
the very spot at which a shell fired from his gun would fall. The men in
the trench are artillerymen of General Hazen's division of the Fifteenth
Corps; their appearance in their fine uniforms, polished breastplates and
buttons, proves that Sherman's men could not have presented the ragged
appearance that they are often pictured as doing in the war-time sketches.
That Army and Navy have come together is proved also by the figure of a
marine from the fleet, who is standing at "Attention" just above the
breach of the gun. Next, leaning on his saber, is a cavalryman, in short
jacket and chin-strap.



Here are the men that marched to the sea doing their turn as day-laborers,
gleefully trundling their wheelbarrows, gathering up everything of value
in Fort McAllister to swell the size of Sherman's "Christmas present."
Brigadier-General W. B. Hazen, after his men had successfully stormed the
stubbornly defended fort, reported the capture of twenty-four pieces of
ordnance, with their equipment, forty tons of ammunition, a month's supply
of food for the garrison, and the small arms of the command. In the upper
picture the army engineers are busily at work removing a great 48-pounder
8-inch Columbiad that had so long repelled the Federal fleet. There is
always work enough and to spare for the engineers both before and after
the capture of a fortified position. In the wheelbarrows is a harvest of
shells and torpedoes. These deadly instruments of destruction had been
relied upon by the Confederates to protect the land approach to Fort
McAllister, which was much less strongly defensible on that side than at
the waterfront. While Sherman's army was approaching Savannah one of his
officers had his leg blown off by a torpedo buried in the road and stepped
on by his horse. After that Sherman set a line of Confederate prisoners
across the road to march ahead of the army, and no more torpedoes were
found. After the capture of Fort McAllister the troops set to work
gingerly scraping about wherever the ground seemed to have been disturbed,
trying to find and remove the dangerous hidden menaces to life. At last
the ground was rendered safe and the troops settled down to the occupation
of Fort McAllister where the bravely fighting little Confederate garrison
had held the key to Savannah. The city was the first to fall of the
Confederacy's Atlantic seaports, now almost locked from the outside world
by the blockade. By the capture of Fort McAllister, which crowned the
march to the sea, Sherman had numbered the days of the war. The fall of
the remaining ports was to follow in quick succession, and by Washington's
Birthday, 1865, the entire coast-line was to be in possession of the




The Eighth Minnesota Regiment, which had joined Sherman on his second
march, was with him when Johnston's surrender wrote "Finis" to the last
chapter of the war, April 26, 1865. In Bennett's little farmhouse, near
Durham's Station, N. C., were begun the negotiations between Johnston and
Sherman which finally led to that event. The two generals met there on
April 17th; it was a highly dramatic moment, for Sherman had in his pocket
the cipher message just received telling of the assassination of Lincoln.





This craft, the "Commodore Perry," was an old New York ferryboat purchased
and hastily pressed into service by the Federal navy to help solve the
problem of patrolling the three thousand miles of coast, along which the
blockade must be made effective. In order to penetrate the intricate
inlets and rivers, light-draft fighting-vessels were required, and the
most immediate means of securing these was to purchase every sort of
merchant craft that could possibly be adapted to the purposes of war,
either as a fighting-vessel or as a transport. The ferryboat in the
picture has been provided with guns and her pilot-houses armored. A
casemate of iron plates has been provided for the gunners. The Navy
Department purchased and equipped in all one hundred and thirty-six
vessels in 1861, and by the end of the year had increased the number of
seamen in the service from 7,600 to over 22,000. Many of these new
recruits saw their first active service aboard the converted ferryboats,
tugboats, and other frail and unfamiliar vessels making up the nondescript
fleet that undertook to cut off the commerce of the South. The experience
thus gained under very unusual circumstances placed them of necessity
among the bravest sailors of the navy.



Fort Fisher, captured January 15, 1865. With the capture of Fort Fisher,
Wilmington, the great importing depot of the South, on which General Lee
said the subsistence of his army depended, was finally closed to all
blockade runners. The Federal navy concentrated against the fortifications
of this port the most powerful naval force ever assembled up to that
time--fifty-five ships of war, including five ironclads, altogether
carrying six hundred guns. The upper picture shows the nature of the
palisade, nine feet high, over which some two thousand marines attempted
to pass; the lower shows interior of the works after the destructive





The blockade-runner "A. D. Vance." It frequently took a blockade-runner to
catch a blockade-runner, and as the Federal navy captured ship after ship
of this character they began to acquire a numerous fleet of swift steamers
from which it was difficult for any vessel to get away. The "Vance"
brought many a cargo to the hungry Southern ports, slipping safely by the
blockading fleet and back again till her shrewd Captain Willie felt that
he could give the slip to anything afloat. On her last trip she had safely
gotten by the Federal vessels lying off the harbor of Wilmington, North
Carolina, and was dancing gleefully on her way with a bountiful cargo of
cotton and turpentine when, on September 10, 1864, in latitude 34° N.,
longitude 76° W., a vessel was sighted which rapidly bore down upon her.
It proved to be the "Santiago de Cuba," Captain O. S. Glisson. The
rapidity with which the approaching vessel overhauled him was enough to
convince Captain Willie that she was in his own class. The "Santiago de
Cuba" carried eleven guns, and the "Vance" humbly hove to, to receive the
prize-crew which took her to Boston, where she was condemned. In the
picture we see her lying high out of the water, her valuable cargo having
been removed and sold to enrich by prize-money the officers and men of her
fleet captor.


The wreck of this blockade-runner, the "Colt," lies off Sullivan's Island,
Charleston Harbor, in 1865. The coast of the Carolinas, before the war was
over, was strewn with just such sights as this. The bones of former
"greyhounds" became landmarks by which the still uncaptured
blockade-runners could get their bearings and lay a course to safety. If
one of these vessels were cut off from making port and surrounded by
Federal pursuers, the next best thing was to run her ashore in shallow
water, where the gunboats could not follow and where her valuable cargo
could be secured by the Confederates. A single cargo at war-time prices
was enough to pay more than the cost of the vessel. Regular auctions were
held in Charleston or Wilmington, where prices for goods not needed by the
Confederate Government were run up to fabulous figures. The business of
blockade-running was well organized abroad, especially in England. One
successful trip was enough to start the enterprise with a handsome profit.
A blockade-runner like the "Kate," which made forty trips or more, would
enrich her owners almost beyond the dreams of avarice.


Here are two striking views in the Port Royal dry-dock of the Confederate
ram "Stonewall." When this powerful fighting-ship sailed from Copenhagen,
Jan. 6, 1865, under command of Capt. T. J. Page, C. S. N., the Federal
navy became confronted by its most formidable antagonist during the war.
In March, 1863, the Confederacy had negotiated a loan of £3,000,000, and
being thus at last in possession of the necessary funds, Captain Bulloch
and Mr. Slidell arranged with M. Arman, who was a member of the
_Corps-Legislatif_ and proprietor of a large shipyard at Bordeaux, for the
construction of ironclad ships of war. Mr. Slidell had already received
assurances from persons in the confidence of Napoleon III that the
building of the ships in the French yards would not be interfered with,
and that getting them to sea would be connived at by the Government. Owing
to the indubitable proof laid before the Emperor by the Federal diplomats
at Paris, he was compelled to revoke the guarantee that had been given to
Slidell and Bulloch. A plan was arranged, however, by which M. Arman
should sell the vessels to various European powers; and he disposed of the
ironclad ram "Sphinx" to the Danish Government, then at war with Prussia.
Delivery of the ship at Copenhagen was not made, however, till after the
war had ceased, and no trouble was experienced by the Confederates in
arranging for the purchase of the vessel. On January 24, 1865, she
rendezvoused off Quiberon, on the French coast; the remainder of her
officers, crew, and supplies were put aboard of her; the Confederate flag
was hoisted over her, and she was christened the "Stonewall." Already the
vessel was discovered to have sprung a leak, and Captain Page ran into
Ferrol, Spain. Here dock-yard facilities were at first granted, but were
withdrawn at the protest of the American Minister. While Captain Page was
repairing his vessel as best he could, the "Niagara" and the "Sacramento"
appeared, and after some weeks the "Stonewall" offered battle in vain.



_Painted by P. Wilhelmi._

  _Copyright, 1901, by Perrien-Keydel Co.,
  Detroit, Mich., U. S. A._]


In the latter days of September, 1864, the Confederate Army of Tennessee
lay in the vicinity of Macon, Georgia. It was a dispirited body of men,
homesick and discouraged. For four long months, first under one leader and
then under another, it had opposed, step by step, Sherman's advance toward
Atlanta, and now that important strategic point was in the hands of the
Federal forces. About the middle of July the President of the Confederacy
had seen fit to remove Joseph E. Johnston from the command and replace him
with John B. Hood. The latter's habit of mind and methods of action led
the Richmond authorities to believe that he would proceed very differently
from Johnston, and in this he did not disappoint them. The results showed
that Johnston's Fabian policy was by far the better one under the
circumstances. Sherman had the stronger army, but he was compelled
constantly to detach portions of it in order to guard his lengthening line
of supplies. The one thing he desired most was that his opponent should
assume an aggressive attitude. Hood's idea was precipitation rather than
patience, and in consequence on the 2d of September General Slocum entered
the coveted city.

On the 22d of that month President Davis visited the Southern Army, and
made a memorable address to the troops. He promised them--and they were
delighted at the news--that they would soon be back in Tennessee, for a
fresh invasion of that State had been planned. This would, declared the
speaker, place Sherman in a worse predicament than that in which Napoleon
found himself at Moscow. But the Federal general had at least the
advantage of learning what was going to happen to him, for the President's
words were reported verbatim in the Southern papers, and he prepared to
meet his antagonists. Thomas, with the Army of the Cumberland, was sent to
Nashville while Schofield, with his smaller force known as the Army of the
Ohio, returned to Knoxville where he had spent the previous winter, to
await Hood's advance. By the 1st of October the latter was across the
Chattahoochee in the hope of drawing Sherman from Atlanta. There was a
brave fight at Allatoona where General Corse "held the fort," but Sherman,
although he followed the Confederate army, was unable to bring on a
general engagement.

His great plan of a march through Georgia to the sea was now fully formed
in his mind. He had not yet obtained Grant's sanction to the scheme, but
he ordered Schofield to cooperate with Thomas and sent the Fourth Corps as
further assistance. He himself ceased the pursuit of Hood at Gaylesville
and turned back to Atlanta, confident that the fate of Tennessee was safe
in the hands of his ablest lieutenant, George H. Thomas. Hood appeared on
the 26th of October at Decatur on the south bank of the Tennessee River.
Lack of supplies had delayed his advance, but even so his performances had
greatly alarmed the North. Twice had he interposed between Sherman and the
Federal base and had destroyed many miles of railway, but what in other
circumstances would have placed the Union leader in a dangerous
predicament was now of little moment, since the latter was rapidly making
preparations to cut himself off from all communication with the source of
his supplies. It was necessary that Hood should have the assistance of
Forrest, whose dauntless cavalry had been playing great havoc with the
Federal stores in western Tennessee, so he moved to Florence before
crossing the river, and here Forrest joined him on November 14th. In the
meantime, Schofield, with about twenty-eight thousand men, had reached
Pulaski on the way to encounter the Southern advance.

Now began a series of brilliant strategic moves, kept up for a fortnight
before the two small armies--they were of almost equal strength met in
one awful clash. Hood's efforts were bent toward cutting Schofield off
from Thomas at Nashville. There was a mad race for the Duck River, and the
Federals got over at Columbia in the very nick of time. The Southern
leader, by a skilful piece of strategy and a forced march, pushed on to
Spring Hill ahead of his opponent. He was in an excellent position to
annihilate General Stanley who was in advance, and then crush the
remainder of the Federals who were moving with the slow wagon-trains. But
owing to a number of strange mishaps, which brought forth much
recrimination but no satisfactory explanation, the Union army slipped by
with little damage and entrenched itself at Franklin on the Harpeth River.
Of all the dark days of Confederate history--and they were many--the 29th
of November, 1864, has been mourned as that of "lost opportunities."

Schofield did not expect, or desire, a battle at Franklin, but he was
treated to one the following afternoon when the Confederates came up, and
it was of the most severe nature. The first attack was made as the light
began to wane, and the Federal troops stood their ground although the
orders had been to withdraw, because through some blunder two brigades in
blue had been stationed, unsupported, directly in front of Hood's
approach. The stubborn resistance of Schofield's army only increased the
ardor of the opponents. It is said that thirteen separate assaults were
made upon the Union entrenchments, and the fearful carnage was finally
carried into the streets and among the dooryards of the little town. At
nine o'clock the fury of the iron storm was quelled. Five Confederate
generals, including the gallant Cleburne, lay dead upon the field. In two
of the Southern brigades all the general officers were either killed or
wounded. Hood's loss was about sixty-three hundred, nearly three times
that of Schofield. By midnight the latter was on his way, uninterrupted,
to Nashville. Meanwhile Thomas was performing a herculean task within the
fortifications of that capital city. He had received a large number of
raw recruits and a motley collection of troops from garrisons in the West.
These had to be drilled into an efficient army, and not one move to fight
would Thomas make until this had been done. Grant, in Virginia, grew
impatient and the Northern papers clamored for an attack on Hood, who had
now arrived with thirty-eight thousand men before the city. Finally Grant
took action, and General Logan was hurrying to assume the Federal command.
But by the time he reached Louisville there was no need for his services.

Thomas had for some days been ready with his force of forty-five thousand,
but to increase the difficulties of his position, a severe storm of
freezing rain made action impossible until the morning of December 15th.
The Union lines of defense were in a semi-circle and Hood was on the
southeast, lightly entrenched. The first assault on his right wing
followed by one on his left, forced the Confederates back to a second
position two miles to the south, and that was the first day's work. Hood
had detached a part of his forces and he did all he could to gain time
until he might recover his full strength. But he had respite only until
Thomas was ready on the morrow, which was about noon. The Union army
deployed in front of the Southerners and overlapped their left wing. An
attack on the front was bravely met and repulsed by the Confederates, and
the Federal leader, extending his right, compelled his opponent to stretch
his own lines more and more. Finally they broke just to the left of the
center, and a general forward movement on the Union side ended in the
utter rout of the splendid and courageous Army of Tennessee.

It melted away in disorder; the pursuit was vigorous, and only a small
portion reassembled at Columbia and fell back with a poor show of order
behind the Tennessee.

Many military historians have seen in the battle of Nashville the most
crushing defeat of the war. Certainly no other brought such complete ruin
upon a large and well-organized body of troops.



When Thomas began to draw together his forces to meet Hood at Nashville,
he ordered the garrison at Johnsonville, on the Tennessee, eighty miles
due west of Nashville, to leave that place and hasten north. It was the
garrison at this same Johnsonville that, a month earlier, had been
frightened into panic and flight when the bold Confederate raider,
Forrest, appeared on the west bank of the river and began a noisy
cannonade. New troops had been sent to the post. They appear well coated
and equipped. The day after the photograph was taken (November 23d) the
encampment in the picture was broken.



It was Hood's hope that, when he had advanced his line to the left of the
position shown in this photograph, he might catch a weak spot in Thomas'
forces. But Thomas had no weak spots. From the casemate, armored with
railroad iron, shown here, the hills might be easily seen on which the
Confederate center and left were posted at the opening of the great battle
of Nashville.





Camp-fires were still smouldering along the side of the abatis where the
lens caught the field of Nashville, while Thomas' concentric forward
movement was in progress. Note the abatis to the right of the picture, the
wagons moving and ready to move in the background, and the artillery on
the left. White tents gleam from the distant hills. A few straggling
soldiers remain. The Federals are closing with Hood's army a couple of
miles to the right of the scene in the picture.



    It is not improbable that Grant might have made more headway by
    leaving a sufficient part of his army in the trenches in front of
    Petersburg and by moving with a heavy force far to the west upon Lee's
    communications; or, if it were determined to capture the place _à main
    forte_, by making a massed attack upon some point in the center after
    suitable mining operations had weakened Lee's defenses and prepared
    for such an operation. But the end was to come with opening spring. To
    the far-sighted, this was no longer doubtful. The South must succumb
    to the greater material resources of the North, despite its courage
    and its sacrifices.--_Colonel T. A. Dodge, U. S. A., in "A Bird's-Eye
    View of Our Civil War."_

During the winter of 1864-65, General Lee, fighting Grant without, was
fighting famine within. The shivering, half-clad soldiers of the South
crouched over feeble fires in their entrenchments. The men were exposed to
the rain, snow, and sleet; sickness and disease soon added their horrors
to the desolation. The finances of the Government were almost gone. The
life of the Confederacy was ebbing fast.

Behind Union breastworks, early in 1865, General Grant was making
preparations for the opening of a determined campaign with the coming of
spring. Mile after mile had been added to his entrenchments, and they now
extended to Hatcher's Run on the left. The Confederate lines had been
stretched until they were so thin that there was constant danger of
breaking. A. P. Hill was posted on the right; Gordon and Anderson held the
center, and Longstreet was on the left. Union troops were mobilizing in
front of Petersburg. By February 1st, Sherman was fairly off from Savannah
on his northward march to join Grant. He was weak in cavalry and Grant
determined to bring Sheridan from the Shenandoah, whence the bulk of
Early's forces had been withdrawn, and send him to assist Sherman.
Sheridan left Winchester February 27th, wreaking much destruction as he
advanced, but circumstances compelled him to seek a new base at White
House. On March 27th he formed a junction with the armies of the Potomac
and the James. Such were the happenings that prompted Lee to prepare for
the evacuation of Petersburg. And he might be able, in his rapid marches,
to outdistance Grant, join his forces with those of Johnston, fall on
Sherman, destroy one wing of the Union army and arouse the hopes of his
soldiers, and prolong the life of his Government.

General Grant knew the condition of Lee's army and, with the unerring
instinct of a military leader, surmised what the plan of the Southern
general must be. He decided to move on the left, destroy both the Danville
and South Side railroads, and put his army in better condition to pursue.
The move was ordered for March 29th.

General Lee, in order to get Grant to look another way for a while,
decided to attack Grant's line on the right, and gain some of the works.
This would compel Grant to draw some of his force from his left and secure
a way of escape to the west. This bold plan was left for execution to the
gallant Georgian, General John B. Gordon, who had successfully led the
reverse attack at Cedar Creek, in the Shenandoah, in October, 1864. Near
the crater stood Fort Stedman. Between it and the Confederate front, a
distance of about one hundred and fifty yards, was a strip of firm earth,
in full view of both picket lines. Across this space some deserters had
passed to the Union entrenchments. General Gordon took advantage of this
fact and accordingly selected his men, who, at the sound of the signal
gun, should disarm the Federal pickets, while fifty more men were to cross
the open space quickly with axes and cut away the abatis, and three
hundred others were to rush through the opening, and capture the fort and

At four o'clock on the morning of March 25, 1865, Gordon had everything in
readiness. His chosen band wore white strips of cloth across the breast,
that they might distinguish each other in the hand-to-hand fight that
would doubtless ensue. Behind these men half of Lee's army was massed to
support the attack. In the silence of the early morning, a gunshot rang
out from the Confederate works. Not a Federal picket-shot was heard. The
axemen rushed across the open and soon the thuds of their axes told of the
cutting away of the abatis. The three hundred surged through the entrance,
overpowered the gunners, captured batteries to the right and to the left,
and were in control of the situation. Gordon's corps of about five
thousand was on hand to sustain the attack but the remaining reserves,
through failure of the guides, did not come, and the general found himself
cut off with a rapidly increasing army surrounding him.

Fort Haskell, on the left, began to throw its shells. Under its cover,
heavy columns of Federals sent by General Parke, now commanding the Ninth
Corps, pressed forward. The Confederates resisted the charge, and from the
captured Fort Stedman and the adjoining batteries poured volley after
volley on Willcox's advancing lines of blue. The Northerners fell back,
only to re-form and renew the attack. This time they secured a footing,
and for twenty minutes the fighting was terrific. Again they were
repulsed. Then across the brow of the hill swept the command of Hartranft.
The blue masses literally poured onto the field. The furious musketry, and
artillery directed by General Tidball, shrivelled up the ranks of Gordon
until they fled from the fort and its neighboring batteries in the midst
of withering fire, and those who did not were captured. This was the last
aggressive effort of the expiring Confederacy in front of Petersburg, and
it cost three thousand men. The Federal loss was not half that number.

The affair at Fort Stedman did not turn Grant from his plans against the
Confederate right. With the railroads here destroyed, Richmond would be
completely cut off. On the morning of the 29th, as previously arranged,
the movement began. Sheridan swept to the south with his cavalry, as if he
were to fall upon the railroads. General Warren, with fifteen thousand
men, was working his way through the tangled woods and low swamps in the
direction of Lee's right. At the same time, Lee stripped his entrenchments
at Petersburg as much as he dared and hurried General Anderson, with
infantry, and Fitzhugh Lee, with cavalry, forward to hold the roads over
which he hoped to escape. On Friday morning, March 31st, the opposing
forces, the Confederates much reënforced, found themselves at Dinwiddie
Court House. The woods and swamps prevented the formation of a regular
line of battle. Lee made his accustomed flank movement, with heavy loss to
the Federals as they tried to move in the swampy forests. The Northerners
finally were ready to advance when it was found that Lee had fallen back.
During the day and night, reënforcements were coming in from all sides.
The Confederates had taken their position at Five Forks.

Early the next afternoon, the 1st of April, Sheridan, reënforced by
Warren, was arranging his troops for battle. The day was nearly spent when
all was in readiness. The sun was not more than two hours high when the
Northern army moved toward that of the South, defended by a breastwork
behind a dense undergrowth of pines. Through this mass of timber the
Federals crept with bayonets fixed. They charged upon the Confederates,
but, at the same time, a galling fire poured into them from the left,
spreading dismay and destruction in their midst. The intrepid Sheridan
urged his black battle-charger, the famous Rienzi, now known as
Winchester, up and down the lines, cheering his men on in the fight. He
seemed to be everywhere at once. The Confederate left was streaming down
the White Oak Road. But General Crawford had reached a cross-road, by
taking a circuitous route, and the Southern army was thus shut off from
retreat. The Federal cavalry had dismounted and was doing its full share
of work. The Confederates soon found themselves trapped, and the part of
their army in action that day was nearly annihilated. About five thousand
prisoners were taken.

With night came the news of the crushing blow to Lee. General Grant was
seated by his camp-fire surrounded by his staff, when a courier dashed
into his presence with the message of victory. Soon from every great gun
along the Union line belched forth the sheets of flame. The earth shook
with the awful cannonade. Mortar shells made huge parabolas through the
air. The Union batteries crept closer and closer to the Confederate lines
and the balls crashed into the streets of the doomed city. The bombardment
of Petersburg was on.

At dawn of the 2nd of April the grand assault began. The Federal troops
sprang forward with a rush. Despite the storms of grape and canister, the
Sixth Corps plunged through the battery smoke, and across the walls,
pushing the brave defenders to the inner works. The whole corps penetrated
the lines and swept everything before it toward Hatcher's Run. Some of the
troops even reached the South Side Railroad, where the brave General A. P.
Hill fell mortally wounded.

Everywhere, the blue masses poured into the works. General Ord, on the
right of the Sixth Corps, helped to shut the Confederate right into the
city. General Parke, with the Ninth Corps, carried the main line. The thin
gray line could no longer stem the tide that was engulfing it. The
Confederate troops south of Hatcher's Run fled to the west, and fought
General Miles until General Sheridan and a division from Meade appeared on
the scene. By noon the Federals held the line of the outer works from Fort
Gregg to the Appomattox. The last stronghold carried was Fort Gregg, at
which the men of Gibbon's corps had one of the most desperate struggles of
the war. The Confederates now fell back to the inner fortifications and
the siege of Petersburg came to an end.



This beautiful old mansion on Bolingbroke Street could look back to the
days of buckles and small clothes; it wears an aggrieved and surprised
look, as if wondering why it should have received such buffetings as its
pierced walls, its shattered windows and doorway show. Yet it was more
fortunate than some of its near-by neighbors, which were never again after
the visitation of the falling shells fit habitations for mankind. Many of
these handsome residences were utterly destroyed, their fixtures shattered
beyond repair; their wainscoting, built when the Commonwealth of Virginia
was ruled over by the representative of King George, was torn from the
walls and, bursting into flames, made a funeral pyre of past comforts and
magnificence. The havoc wrought upon the dwellings of the town was heavy;
certain localities suffered more than others, and those residents who
seemed to dwell in the safest zones had been ever ready to open their
houses to the sick and wounded of Lee's army. As Grant's troops marched
in, many pale faces gazed out at them from the windows, and at the
doorsteps stood men whose wounds exempted them from ever bearing arms









For nine months of '64-'65 the musket-balls sang past these Federal picket
posts, in advance of Federal Fort Sedgwick, called by the Confederates
"Fort Hell." Directly opposite was the Confederate Fort Mahone, which the
Federals, returning the compliment, had dubbed "Fort Damnation." Between
the two lines, separated by only fifty yards, sallies and counter-sallies
were continual occurrences after dark. In stealthy sorties one side or the
other frequently captured the opposing pickets before alarm could be
given. No night was without its special hazard. During the day the pastime
here was sharp-shooting with muskets and rifled cannon.





These well-made protections of sharpened spikes, as formidable as the
pointed spears of a Roman legion, are _chevaux-de-frise_ of the
Confederates before their main works at Petersburg. They were built after
European models, the same as employed in the Napoleonic wars, and were
used by both besiegers and besieged along the lines south of the
Appomattox. Those shown in this picture were in front of the entrenchments
near Elliott's salient and show how effectually it was protected from any
attempt to storm the works by rushing tactics on the part of the Federal
infantry. Not far from here lies the excavation of the Crater.

[Illustration: GENERAL JOHN B. GORDON, C. S. A.]

To this gallant young Georgia officer, just turned thirty-three at the
time, Lee entrusted the last desperate effort to break through the
tightening Federal lines, March 25, 1865. Lee was confronted by the
dilemma of either being starved out of Petersburg and Richmond, or of
getting out himself and uniting his army to that of Johnston in North
Carolina to crush Sherman before Grant could reach him. Gordon was to
begin this latter, almost impossible, task by an attack on Fort Stedman,
which the Confederates believed to be the weakest point in the Federal
fortifications. The position had been captured from them in the beginning,
and they knew that the nature of the ground and its nearness to their own
lines had made it difficult to strengthen it very much. It was planned to
surprise the fort before daylight. Below are seen the rabbit-like burrows
of Gracie's Salient, past which Gordon led his famished men. When the
order came to go forward, they did not flinch, but hurled themselves
bravely against fortifications far stronger than their own. Three columns
of a hundred picked men each moved down the slope shown on the left and
advanced in the darkness against Stedman. They were to be followed by a
division. Through the gap which the storming parties were expected to open
in the Federal lines, Gordon's columns would rush in both directions and a
cavalry force was to sweep on and destroy the pontoon bridges across the
Appomattox and to raid City Point, breaking up the Federal base. It was no
light task, for although Fort Stedman itself was weak, it was flanked by
Battery No. 10 on the right and by Battery No. 11 on the left. An
attacking party on the right would be exposed to an enfilading fire in
crossing the plain; while on the left the approach was difficult be cause
of ravines, one of which the Confederate engineers had turned into a pond
by damming a creek. All night long General Gordon's wife, with the brave
women of Petersburg, sat up tearing strips of white cloth, to be tied on
the arms of the men in the storming parties so that they could tell friend
from foe in the darkness and confusion of the assault. Before the
sleep-dazed Federals could offer effective resistance, Gordon's men had
possession of the fort and the batteries. Only after one of the severest
engagements of the siege were the Confederates driven back.



As his general watched, this boy fought to stem the Federal rush--but
fell, his breast pierced by a bayonet, in the trenches of Fort Mahone. It
is heart-rending to look at a picture such as this; it is sad to think of
it and to write about it. Here is a boy of only fourteen years, his face
innocent of a razor, his feet unshod and stockingless in the bitter April
weather. It is to be hoped that the man who slew him has forgotten it, for
this face would haunt him surely. Many who fought in the blue ranks were
young, but in the South there were whole companies made up of such boys as
this. At the battle of Newmarket the scholars of the Virgina Military
Institute, the eldest seventeen and the youngest twelve, marched from the
classrooms under arms, joined the forces of General Breckinridge, and
aided by their historic charge to gain a brilliant victory over the
Federal General Sigel. The never-give-in spirit was implanted in the youth
of the Confederacy, as well as in the hearts of the grizzled veterans. Lee
had inspired them, but in addition to this inspiration, as General Gordon
writes, "every man of them was supported by their extraordinary
consecration, resulting from the conviction that he was fighting in the
defense of home and the rights of his State. Hence their unfaltering faith
in the justice of the cause, their fortitude in the extremest privations,
their readiness to stand shoeless and shivering in the trenches at night
and to face any danger at their leader's call."

[Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1911, PATRIOT PUB. CO.]


    I now come to what I have always regarded--shall ever regard--as the
    most creditable episode in all American history--an episode without a
    blemish, imposing, dignified, simple, heroic. I refer to Appomattox.
    Two men met that day, representative of American civilization, the
    whole world looking on. The two were Grant and Lee--types each. Both
    rose, and rose unconsciously, to the full height of the occasion--and
    than that occasion there has been none greater. About it, and them,
    there was no theatrical display, no self-consciousness, no effort at
    effect. A great crisis was to be met; and they met that crisis as
    great countrymen should. Consider the possibilities; think for a
    moment of what that day might have been; you will then see cause to
    thank God for much.--_General Charles Francis Adams, U. S. V., in Phi
    Beta Kappa Address delivered at the University of Chicago, June 17,

We are now to witness the closing scene of one of the greatest tragedies
ever enacted on the world's stage. Many and varied had been the scenes
during the war; the actors and their parts had been real. The wounds of
the South were bleeding; the North was awaiting the decisive blow.
Thousands of homes were ruined. Fortunes, great and small, had melted away
by the hundreds of millions. In Richmond, the citadel of the waning
Confederacy, the people were starving. The Southern army, half clad and
without food, was but a shadow of its once proud self. Bravely and long
the men in gray had followed their adored leader. Now the limit of
endurance had been reached.

It was the second day of April, 1865. Lee realized that after Petersburg
his beloved Richmond must fall. The order was given for the movement to
begin at eight o'clock that night. The darkness of the early morning of
the 3d was suddenly transformed into a lurid light overcasting the
heavens for miles around the famous city whose name had became a
household word over the civilized world. Richmond was in flames! The
capital of the Confederacy, the pride of the South, toward which the Army
of the Potomac had fought its way, leaving a trail of blood for four weary
years, had at last succumbed to the overwhelming power of Grant's
indomitable armies.

President Davis had received a despatch while attending services at St.
Paul's church, Sunday morning, the 2d, advising him that the city must be
evacuated that night, and, leaving the church at once, he hastened the
preparations for flight with his personal papers and the archives of the
Confederate Government. During that Sabbath day and night Richmond was in
a state of riot. There had been an unwarranted feeling of security in the
city, and the unwelcome news, spreading like an electric flash, was
paralyzing and disastrous in its effect. Prisoners were released from
their toils, a lawless mob overran the thoroughfares, and civic government
was nullified. One explosion after another, on the morning of the 3d, rent
the air with deafening roar, as the magazines took fire. The scene was one
of terror and grandeur.

The flames spread to the city from the ships, bridges, and arsenal, which
had been set on fire, and hundreds of buildings, including the best
residential section of the capital of the Confederacy, were destroyed.

When the Union army entered the city in the morning, thousands of the
inhabitants, men, women, and children, were gathered at street corners and
in the parks, in wildest confusion. The commissary depot had been broken
open by the starving mob, and rifled of its contents, until the place was
reached by the spreading flames. The Federal soldiers stacked arms, and
heroically battled with the fire, drafting into the work all able-bodied
men found in the city. The invaders extinguished the flames, and soon
restored the city to a state of order and safety. The invalid wife of
General Lee, who was exposed to danger, was furnished with an ambulance
and corporal's guard until the danger was past.

President Lincoln, who had visited Grant at Petersburg, entered Richmond
on the 4th of April. He visited President Davis' house, and Libby Prison,
then deserted, and held a conference with prominent citizens and army
officers of the Confederacy. The President seemed deeply concerned and
weighted down with the realization of the great responsibilities that
would fall upon him after the war. Only ten days later the nation was
shaken from ocean to ocean by the tragic news of his assassination.

General Lee had started on his last march by eight o'clock on the night of
the 2d. By midnight the evacuation of both Petersburg and Richmond was
completed. For nine months the invincible forces of Lee had kept a foe of
more than twice their numerical strength from invading their stronghold,
and only after a long and harassing siege were they forced to retreat.
They saw the burning city as their line of march was illuminated by the
conflagration, and emotions too deep for words overcame them. The woods
and fields, in their fresh, bright colors of spring, were in sharp
contrast to the travel-worn, weather-beaten, ragged veterans passing over
the verdant plain. Lee hastened the march of his troops to Amelia Court
House, where he had ordered supplies, but by mistake the train of supplies
had been sent on to Richmond. This was a crushing blow to the hungry men,
who had been stimulated on their tiresome march by the anticipation of
much-needed food. The fatality of war was now hovering over them like a
huge black specter.

General Grant did not proceed to Richmond, but leaving General Weitzel to
invest the city, he hastened in pursuit of Lee to intercept the retreating
army. This pursuit was started early on the 3d. On the evening of that
date there was some firing between the pursuing army and Lee's rear guard.
It was Lee's design to concentrate his force at Amelia Court House, but
this was not to be accomplished by the night of the 4th. Not until the 5th
was the whole army up, and then it was discovered that no adequate
supplies were within less than fifty miles. Subsistence could be obtained
only by foraging parties. No word of complaint from the suffering men
reached their commander, and on the evening of that disappointing day they
patiently and silently began the sad march anew. Their course was through
unfavorable territory and necessarily slow. The Federals were gaining upon
their retreating columns. Sheridan's cavalry had reached their flank, and
on the 6th there was heavy skirmishing. In the afternoon the Federals had
arrived in force sufficient to bring on an engagement with Ewell's corps
in the rear, at Sailor's Creek, a tributary of the Appomattox River. Ewell
was surrounded by the Federals and the entire corps captured. General
Anderson, commanding the divisions of Pickett and Johnson, was attacked
and fought bravely, losing many men. In all about six thousand Confederate
soldiers were left in the hands of the pursuing army.

On the night of the 6th, the remainder of the Confederate army continued
the retreat and arrived at Farmville, where the men received two days'
rations, the first food except raw or parched corn that had been given
them for two days. Again the tedious journey was resumed, in the hope of
breaking through the rapidly-enmeshing net and forming a junction with
Johnston at Danville, or of gaining the protected region of the mountains
near Lynchburg. But the progress of the weak and weary marchers was slow
and the Federal cavalry had swept around to Lee's front, and a halt was
necessary to check the pursuing Federals. On the evening of the 8th, Lee
reached Appomattox Court House. Here ended the last march of the Army of
Northern Virginia.

General Lee and his officers held a council of war on the night of the 8th
and it was decided to make an effort to cut their way through the Union
lines on the morning of the next day. On the 7th, while at Farmville, on
the south side of the Appomattox River, Grant sent to Lee a courteous
request for the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, based on the
hopelessness of further resistance on the part of that army. In reply, Lee
expressed sympathy with Grant's desire to avoid useless effusion of blood
and asked the terms of surrender.

The next morning General Grant replied to Lee, urging that a meeting be
designated by Lee, and specifying the terms of surrender, to which Lee
replied promptly, rejecting those terms, which were, that the Confederates
lay down their arms, and the men and officers be disqualified for taking
up arms against the Government of the United States until properly
exchanged. When Grant read Lee's letter he shook his head in
disappointment and said, "It looks as if Lee still means to fight; I will
reply in the morning."

On the 9th Grant addressed another communication to Lee, repeating the
terms of surrender, and closed by saying, "The terms upon which peace can
be had are well understood. By the South laying down their arms they will
hasten that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives, and
hundreds of millions of property not yet destroyed. Sincerely hoping that
all our difficulties may be settled without the loss of another life, I
subscribe myself, etc."

There remained for Lee the bare possibility, by desperate fighting, of
breaking through the Federal lines in his rear. To Gordon's corps was
assigned the task of advancing on Sheridan's strongly supported front.
Since Pickett's charge at Gettysburg there had been no more hopeless
movement in the annals of the war. It was not merely that Gordon was
overwhelmingly outnumbered by the opposing forces, but his
hunger-enfeebled soldiers, even if successful in the first onslaught,
could count on no effective support, for Longstreet's corps was in even
worse condition than his own. Nevertheless, on the morning of Sunday, the
9th, the attempt was made. Gordon was fighting his corps, as he said, "to
a frazzle," when Lee came at last to a realizing sense of the futility of
it all and ordered a truce. A meeting with Grant was soon arranged on the
basis of the letters already exchanged. The conference of the two
world-famous commanders took place at Appomattox, a small settlement with
only one street, but to be made historic by this meeting. Lee was awaiting
Grant's arrival at the house of Wilmer McLean. It was here, surrounded by
staff-officers, that the terms were written by Grant for the final
surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia. The terms, and their
acceptance, were embodied in the following letters, written and signed in
the famous "brick house" on that memorable Sunday:

    APRIL 9, 1865.

    GENERAL: In accordance with the substance of my letter to you of the
    8th instant, I propose to receive the surrender of the Army of
    Northern Virginia on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all the
    officers and men to be made in duplicate, one copy to be given to an
    officer to be designated by me, the other to be retained by such
    officer or officers as you may designate. The officers to give their
    individual paroles not to take up arms against the Government of the
    United States until properly exchanged; and each company or regimental
    commander to sign a like parole for the men of their commands. The
    arms, artillery, and public property to be parked and stacked, and
    turned over to the officers appointed by me to receive them. This will
    not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or
    baggage. This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to
    his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authority so long
    as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where they may

        U. S. GRANT, _Lieutenant-General_.

    General R. E. Lee.

    APRIL 9, 1865.

    GENERAL: I have received your letter of this date containing the terms
    of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as proposed by you.
    As they are substantially the same as those expressed in your letter
    of the 8th instant, they are accepted. I will proceed to designate the
    proper officers to carry the stipulation into effect.

        R. E. LEE, _General_.

    Lieutenant-General U. S. Grant.

When Federal officers were seen galloping toward the Union lines from
Appomattox Court House it was quickly surmised that Lee had surrendered.
Cheer after cheer was sent up by the long lines throughout their entire
length; caps and tattered colors were waved in the air. Officers and men
alike joined in the enthusiastic outburst. It was glad tidings, indeed, to
these men, who had fought and hoped and suffered through the long bloody

When Grant returned to his headquarters and heard salutes being fired he
ordered it stopped at once, saying, "The war is over; the rebels are our
countrymen again; and the best sign of rejoicing after the victory will be
to abstain from all demonstration in the field."

Details of the surrender were arranged on the next day by staff-officers
of the respective armies. The parole officers were instructed by General
Grant to permit the Confederate soldiers to retain their own horses--a
concession that was most welcome to many of the men, who had with them
animals brought from the home farm early in the war.

There were only twenty-eight thousand men to be paroled, and of these
fewer than one-third were actually bearing arms on the day of the
surrender. The Confederate losses of the last ten days of fighting
probably exceeded ten thousand.

The Confederate supplies had been captured by Sheridan, and Lee's army was
almost at the point of starvation. An order from Grant caused the rations
of the Federal soldiers to be shared with the "Johnnies," and the
victorious "Yanks" were only too glad to tender such hospitality as was
within their power. These acts of kindness were slight in themselves, but
they helped immeasurably to restore good feeling and to associate for all
time with Appomattox the memory of reunion rather than of strife. The
things that were done there can never be the cause of shame to any
American. The noble and dignified bearing of the commanders was an example
to their armies and to the world that quickly had its effect in the
genuine reconciliation that followed.

The scene between Lee and his devoted army was profoundly touching.
General Long in his "Memoirs of Lee" says: "It is impossible to describe
the anguish of the troops when it was known that the surrender of the army
was inevitable. Of all their trials, this was the greatest and hardest to
endure." As Lee rode along the lines of the tried and faithful men who had
been with him at the Wilderness, at Spotsylvania, and at Cold Harbor, it
was not strange that those ragged, weather-beaten heroes were moved by
deep emotion and that tears streamed down their bronzed and scarred faces.
Their general in broken accents admonished them to go to their homes and
be as brave citizens as they had been soldiers.

Thus ended the greatest civil war in history, for soon after the fall of
the Confederate capital and the surrender of Lee's army, there followed in
quick succession the surrender of all the remaining Southern forces.

While these stirring events were taking place in Virginia, Sherman, who
had swept up through the Carolinas with the same dramatic brilliancy that
marked his march to the sea, accomplishing most effective work against
Johnston, was at Goldsboro. When Johnston learned of the fall of Richmond
and Lee's surrender he knew the end had come and he soon arranged for the
surrender of his army on the terms agreed upon at Appomattox. In the first
week of May General "Dick" Taylor surrendered his command near Mobile, and
on the 10th of the same month, President Jefferson Davis, who had been for
nearly six weeks a fugitive, was overtaken and made a prisoner near
Irwinsville, Georgia. The Southern Confederacy was a thing of the past.





No photographer was present at Appomattox, that supreme moment in our
national history, when Americans met for the last time as foes on the
field. Nothing but fanciful sketches exist of the scene inside the McLean
home. But here is a photograph that shows most of the Union officers
present at the conference. Nine of the twelve men standing above stood
also at the signing of Lee's surrender, a few days later. The scene is
City Point, in March, 1865. Grant is surrounded by a group of the officers
who had served him so faithfully. At the surrender, it was Colonel T. S.
Bowers (third from left) upon whom Grant called to make a copy of the
terms of surrender in ink. Colonel E. S. Parker, the full-blooded Indian
on Grant's staff, an excellent penman, wrote out the final copy. Nineteen
years later, General Horace Porter recorded with pride that he loaned
General Lee a pencil to make a correction in the terms. Colonels William
Duff and J. D. Webster, and General M. R. Patrick, are the three men who
were not present at the interview. All of the remaining officers were
formally presented to Lee. General Seth Williams had been Lee's adjutant
when the latter was superintendent at West Point some years before the
war. In the lower photograph General Grant stands between General Rawlins
and Colonel Bowers. The veins standing out on the back of his hand are
plainly visible. No one but he could have told how calmly the blood
coursed through them during the four tremendous years.




This fine mansion on Bolingbroke Street, the residential section of
Petersburg, has now, on the 3d of April, fallen into the hands of
straggling Union soldiers. Its windows have long since been shattered by
shells from distant Federal mortars; one has even burst through the wall.
But it was not till the night of April 2d, when the retreat of the
Confederate forces started, that the citizens began to leave their homes.
At 9 o'clock in the morning General Grant, surrounded by his staff, rode
quietly into the city. The streets were deserted. At length they arrived
at a comfortable home standing back in a yard. There he dismounted and sat
for a while on the piazza. Soon a group of curious citizens gathered on
the sidewalk to gaze at the commander of the Yankee armies. But the Union
troops did not remain long in the deserted homes. Sheridan was already in
pursuit south of the Appomattox, and Grant, after a short conference with
Lincoln, rode to the west in the rear of the hastily marching troops.
Bolingbroke Street and Petersburg soon returned to the ordinary
occupations of peace in an effort to repair the ravages of the historic
nine months' siege.



At this railroad point, three miles from the Court House, a Confederate
provision train arrived on the morning of April 8th. The supplies were
being loaded into wagons and ambulances by a detail of about four thousand
men, many of them unarmed, when suddenly a body of Federal cavalry charged
upon them, having reached the spot by a by-road leading from the Red
House. After a few shots the Confederates fled in confusion. The cavalry
drove them on in the direction of Appomattox Court House, capturing many
prisoners, twenty-five pieces of artillery, a hospital train, and a large
pack of wagons. This was Lee's last effort to obtain food for his army.


A detail of the Twenty-sixth Michigan handed out paroles to the
surrendered Confederates.




The sad significance of these photographs is all too apparent. Not only
the bank buildings were in ruins, but the financial system of the entire
South. All available capital had been consumed by the demands of the war,
and a system of paper currency had destroyed credit completely. Worse
still was the demoralization of all industry. Through large areas of the
South all mills and factories were reduced to ashes, and everywhere the
industrial system was turned topsy-turvy. Truly the problem that
confronted the South was stupendous.





Never again to be used by brother against brother, these Confederate guns
captured in the defenses about Richmond are parked near the wharves on the
James River ready for shipment to the national arsenal at Washington, once
more the capital of a united country. The reflection of these instruments
of destruction on the peaceful surface of the canal is not more clear than
was the purpose of the South to accept the issues of the war and to
restore as far as in them lay the bases for an enduring prosperity. The
same devotion which manned these guns so bravely and prolonged the contest
as long as it was possible for human powers to endure, was now directed to
the new problems which the cessation of hostilities had provided. The
restored Union came with the years to possess for the South a significance
to be measured only by the thankfulness that the outcome had been what it
was and by the pride in the common traditions and common blood of the
whole American people. These captured guns are a memory therefore, not of
regret, but of recognition, gratitude, that the highest earthly tribunal
settled all strife in 1865.




On April 9, 1865, the very day of the surrender of Lee at Appomattox,
Lincoln, for the last time, went to the photographer's gallery. As he sits
in simple fashion sharpening his pencil, the man of sorrows cannot forget
the sense of weariness and pain that for four years has been unbroken. No
elation of triumph lights the features. One task is ended--the Nation is
saved. But another, scarcely less exacting, confronts him. The States
which lay "out of their proper practical relation to the Union," in his
own phrase, must be brought back into a proper practical relation. But
this task was not for him. Only five days later the sad eyes reflected
upon this page closed forever upon scenes of earthly turmoil. Bereft of
Lincoln's heart and head, leaders attacked problems of reconstruction in
ways that proved unwise. As the mists of passion and prejudice cleared
away, both North and South came to feel that this patient, wise, and
sympathetic ruler was one of the few really great men in history, and that
he would live forever in the hearts of men made better by his presence
during those four years of storm.



One of the proudest days of the nation--May 24, 1865--here lives again.
The true greatness of the American people was not displayed till the close
of the war. The citizen from the walks of humble life had during the
contest become a veteran soldier, equal in courage and fighting capacity
to the best drilled infantry of Marlborough, Frederick the Great, or
Napoleon. But it remained to be seen whether he would return peacefully to
the occupations of peace. European nations made dark predictions. "Would
nearly a million men," they asked, "one of the mightiest military
organizations ever trained in war, quietly lay aside this resistless power
and disappear into the unnoted walks of civil life?" Europe with its
standing armies thought not. Europe was mistaken. The disbanded veterans
lent the effectiveness of military order and discipline to the industrial
and commercial development of the land they had come to love with an
increased devotion. The pictures are of Sherman's troops marching down
Pennsylvania Avenue. The horsemen in the lead are General Francis P. Blair
and his staff, and the infantry in flashing new uniforms are part of the
Seventeenth Corps in the Army of Tennessee. Little over a year before,
they had started with Sherman on his series of battles and flanking
marches in the struggle for Atlanta. They had taken a conspicuous and
important part in the battle of July 22d east of Atlanta, receiving and
finally repulsing attacks in both front and rear. They had marched with
Sherman to the sea and participated in the capture of Savannah. They had
joined in the campaign through the Carolinas, part of the time leading the
advance and tearing up many miles of railway track, and operating on the
extreme right after the battle of Bentonville. After the negotiations for
Johnston's surrender were completed in April, they set out on the march
for the last time with flying colors and martial music, to enter the
memorable review at Washington in May, here preserved.



*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Civil War Through the Camera" ***

Doctrine Publishing Corporation provides digitized public domain materials.
Public domain books belong to the public and we are merely their custodians.
This effort is time consuming and expensive, so in order to keep providing
this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties,
including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Doctrine Publishing
Corporation's ISYS search for use by individuals, and we request that you
use these files for personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort
to Doctrine Publishing's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.