CHAPTER XV. THE RED DAWN OF SHILOH
Dick stood appalled when he heard that terrible shout in the dawn, andthe crash of cannon and rifles rolling down upon the Union lines. It wasalready a shout of triumph and, as he gazed, he saw through the woodsthe red line of flame, sweeping on without a halt.
The surprise had been complete. Hardee, leading the Southern advance,struck Peabody's Northern brigade and smashed it up instantly. The mendid not have time to seize their rifles. They had no chance to forminto ranks, and the officers themselves, as they shouted commands,were struck down. Men killed or wounded were falling everywhere. Almostbefore they had time to draw a free breath the remnants of the brigadewere driven upon those behind it.
Hardee also rushed upon Sherman, but there he found a foe of toughmettle. The man who had foreseen the enormous extent of the war,although taken by surprise, too, did not lose his courage or presence ofmind. His men had time to seize their arms, and he formed a hasty lineof battle. He also had the forethought to send word to the general inhis rear to close up the gap between him and the next general in theline. Then he shifted one of his own brigades until there was a ravinein front of it to protect his men, and he hurried a battery to hisflank.
Never was Napoleon's maxim that men are nothing, a man is everything,more justified, and never did the genius of Sherman shine morebrilliantly than on that morning. It was he, alone, cool of mind andsteady in the face of overwhelming peril, who first faced the Southernrush. He inspired his troops with his own courage, and, though pale offace, they bent forward to meet the red whirlwind that was rushing downupon them.
Like a blaze running through dry grass the battle extended in almost aninstant along the whole front, and the deep woods were filled with theroar of eighty thousand men in conflict. And Grant, as at Donelson, wasfar away.
The thunder and blaze of the battle increased swiftly and to a frightfulextent. The Southern generals, eager, alert and full of success, pushedin all their troops. The surprised Northern army was giving away at allpoints, except where Sherman stood. Hardee, continuing his rush, brokethe Northern line asunder, and his brigades, wrapping themselves aroundSherman, strove to destroy him.
Although he saw his lines crumbling away before him, Sherman neverflinched. The ravine in front of him and rough ground on one sidedefended him to a certain extent. The men fired their rifles as fast asthey could load and reload, and the cannon on their flanks never ceasedto pour shot and shell into the ranks of their opponents. The gunnerswere shot down, but new ones rose at once in their place. The fiercestconflict yet seen on American soil was raging here. North would notyield, South ever rushed anew to the attack, and a vast cloud of mingledflame and smoke enclosed them both.
Dick had stood as if petrified, staring at the billows of flame, whilethe thunder of great armies in battle stunned his ears. He realizedsuddenly that he was alone. Colonel Kenton had said the night beforethat he did not know what to do with him, but that he would find a wayin the morning. But he had been forgotten, and he knew it was naturalthat he should be. His fate was but a trifle in the mighty event thatwas passing. There was no time for any one in the Southern army tobother about him.
Then he understood too, that he was free. The whole Orphan Brigadehad passed on into the red heart of the battle, and had left him therealone. Now his mind leaped out of its paralysis. All his senses becamealert. In that vast whirlwind of fire and smoke no one would notice thata single youth was stealing through the forest in an effort to rejoinhis own people.
Action followed swift upon thought. He curved about in the woods andthen ran rapidly toward the point where the fire seemed thinnest. He didnot check his pace until he had gone at least a mile. Then he paused tosee if he could tell how the battle was going. Its roar seemed louderthan ever in his ears, and in front of him was a vast red line, whichextended an unseen distance through the forest. Now and then the wildand thrilling rebel yell rose above the roar of cannon and the crash ofrifles.
Dick saw with a sinking of the heart--and yet he had known that it wouldbe so--that the red line of flame had moved deeper into the heart of theNorthern camp. It had passed the Northern outposts and, at many points,it had swept over the Northern center. He feared that there was but ahuddled and confused mass beyond it.
He saw something lying at his feet. It was a Confederate military cloakwhich some officer had cast off as he rushed to the charge. He picked itup, threw it about his own shoulders, and then tossed away his cap. Ifhe fell in with Confederate troops they would not know him from one oftheir own, and it was no time now to hold cross-examinations.
He took a wide curve, and, after another mile, came to a hillock, uponwhich he stood a little while, panting. Again he was appalled at thesight he beheld. Bull Run and Donelson were small beside this. Hereeighty thousand men were locked fast in furious conflict. Raw andundisciplined many of these farmer lads of the west and south were, butin battle they showed a courage and tenacity not surpassed by the besttrained troops that ever lived.
The floating smoke reached Dick where he stood and stung his eyes, anda powerful odor of burned gunpowder assailed his nostrils. Butneither sight nor odors held him back. Instead, they drew him on withoverwhelming force. He must rejoin his own and do his best howeverlittle it counted in the whole.
It was now well on into the morning of a brilliant and hot Sunday. Hedid not know it, but the combat was raging fiercest then around thelittle church, which should have been sacred. Drawing a deep breathof an air which was shot with fire and smoke, and which was hot tohis lungs, Dick began to run again. Almost before he noticed it he wasrunning by the side of a Southern regiment which had been ordered toveer about and attack some new point in the Northern line. Keeping hispresence of mind he shouted with them as they rushed on, and presentlydropped away from them in the smoke.
He was conscious now of a new danger. Twigs and bits of bark began torain down upon him, and he heard the unpleasant whistle of bullets overhis head. They were the bullets of his own people, seeking to repel theSouthern charge. A minute later a huge shell burst near him, coveringhim with flying earth. At first he thought he had been hit by fragmentsof the shell, but when he shook himself he found that he was all right.
He took yet a wider curve and before he was aware of the treacherousground plunged into a swamp bordering one of the creeks. He stood fora few moments in mud and water to his waist, but he knew that he hadpassed from the range of the Union fire. Twigs and bark no longer fellaround him and that most unpleasant whizz of bullets was gone.
He pulled himself out of the mire and ran along the edge of the creektoward the roar of the battle. He knew now that he had passed around theflank of the Southern army and could approach the flank of his own. Heran fast, and then began to hear bullets again. But now they were comingfrom the Southern army. He threw away the cloak and presently he emergedinto a mass of men, who, under the continual urging of their officers,were making a desperate defense, firing, drawing back, reloading andfiring again. In front, the woods swarmed with the Southern troops whodrove incessantly upon them.
Dick snatched up a rifle--plenty were lying upon the ground, where theowners had fallen with them--and fired into the attacking ranks. Then hereloaded swiftly, and pressed on toward the Union center.
"What troops are these?" he asked of an officer who was knotting ahandkerchief about a bleeding wrist.
"From Illinois. Who are you?"
"I'm Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Arthur Winchester's Kentuckyregiment. I was taken prisoner by the enemy last night, but I escapedthis morning. Do you know where my regiment is?"
"Keep straight on, and you'll strike it or what's left of it, ifanything at all is left. It's a black day."
Dick scarcely caught his last words, as he dashed on through bullets,shell and solid shot over slain men and horses, over dismantled gunsand gun carriages, and into the very heart of the flame and smoke.The thunder of the battle was at its height now, because he was inthe center o
f it. The roar of the great guns was continuous, but theunbroken crash of rifles by the scores of thousands was fiercer and moredeadly.
The officer had pointed toward the Kentucky regiment with his sword, andfollowing the line Dick ran directly into it. The very first face he sawwas that of Colonel Winchester.
"Dick, my lad," shouted the Colonel, "where have you come from?"
"From the Southern army. I was taken prisoner last night almost withinsight of our own, but when they charged this morning they forgot me andhere I am."
Colonel Winchester suddenly seized him by the shoulders and pushedhim down. The regiment was behind a small ridge which afforded someprotection, and all were lying down except the senior officers.
"Welcome, Dick, to our hot little camp! The chances are about a hundredper cent out of a hundred per cent that this is the hottest place on theearth today!"
The long, thin figure of Warner lay pressed against the ground. Ahandkerchief, stained red, was bound about his head and his face waspale, but indomitable courage gleamed from his eyes. Just beyond him wasPennington, unhurt.
"Thank God you haven't fallen, and that I've found you!" exclaimed Dick.
"I don't know whether you're so lucky after all," said Warner. "TheJohnnies have been mowing us down. They dropped on us so suddenly thismorning that they must have been sleeping in the same bed with us lastnight, and we didn't know it. I hear that we're routed nearly everywhereexcept here and where Sherman stands. Look out! Here they come again!"
They saw tanned faces and fierce eyes through the smoke, and the bulletsswept down on them in showers. Lucky for them that the little ridge wasthere, and that they had made up their minds to stand to the last. Theyreplied with their own deadly fire, yet many fell, despite the shelter,and to both left and right the battle swelled afresh. Dick felt againthat rain of bark and twigs and leaves. Sometimes a tree, cut throughat its base by cannon balls, fell with a crash. Along the whole curvingline the Southern generals ever urged forward their valiant troops.
Now the courage and skill of Sherman shone supreme. Dick saw him oftenstriding up and down the lines, ordering and begging his men to standfast, although they were looking almost into the eyes of their enemies.
The conflict became hand to hand, and assailant and assailed reeled toand fro. But Sherman would not give up. The fiercest attacks broke invain on his iron front. McClernand, with whom he had quarreled the daybefore as to who should command the army while Grant was away, came upwith reinforcements, and seeing what the fearless and resolute generalhad done, yielded him the place.
The last of the charges broke for the time upon Sherman, and hisexhausted regiment uttered a shout of triumph, but on both sides ofhim the Southern troops drove their enemy back and yet further back.Breckinridge, along Lick Creek, was pushing everything before him. Thebishop-general was doing well. Many of the Northern troops had not yetrecovered from their surprise. A general and three whole regiments,struck on every side, were captured.
It seemed that nothing could deprive the Southern army of victory,absolute and complete. General Johnston had marshalled his troops withsuperb skill, and intending to reap the full advantage of the surprise,he continually pushed them forward upon the shattered Northern lines.He led in person and on horseback the attack upon the Federal center.Around and behind him rode his staff, and the wild rebel yell sweptagain through the forest, when the soldiers saw the stern and loftyfeatures of the chief whom they trusted, leading them on.
But fate in the very moment of triumph that seemed overwhelming and surewas preparing a terrible blow for the South. A bullet struck Johnston inthe ankle. His boot filled with blood, and the wound continued to bleedfast. But, despite the urging of his surgeon, who rode with him, herefused to dismount and have the wound bound up. How could he dismountat such a time, when the battle was at its height, and the Union armywas being driven into the creeks and swamps! He was wounded again by apiece of shell, and he sank dying from his horse. His officers crowdedaround him, seeking to hide their irreparable loss from the soldiers,the most costly death, with the exception of Stonewall Jackson's,sustained by the Confederacy in the whole war.
But the troops, borne on by the impetus that success and the spirit ofJohnston had given them, drove harder than ever against the Northernline. They crashed through it in many places, seizing prisoners andcannon. Almost the whole Northern camp was now in their possession, andmany of the Southern lads, hungry from scanty rations, stopped to seizethe plenty that they found there, but enough persisted to give theNorthern army no rest, and press it back nearer and nearer to themarshes.
The combat redoubled around Sherman. Johnston was gone, but his generalsstill shared his resolution. They turned an immense fire upon the pointwhere stood Sherman and McClernand, now united by imminent peril. Theirranks were searched by shot and shell, and the bullets whizzed amongthem like a continuous swarm of hornets.
Dick was still unwounded, but so much smoke and vapor had drifted abouthis face that he was compelled at times to rub his eyes that he mightsee. He felt a certain dizziness, too, and he did not know whether theincessant roaring in his ears came wholly from the cannon and rifle fireor partly from the pounding of his blood.
"I feel that we are shaking," he shouted in the ears of Warner, who laynext to him. "I'm afraid we're going to give ground."
"I feel it, too," Warner shouted back. "We've been here for hours, butwe're shot to pieces. Half of our men must be killed or wounded, but howold Sherman fights!"
The Southern leaders brought up fresh troops and hurled them uponSherman. Again the combat was hand to hand, and to the right and leftthe supports of the indomitable Northern general were being cut away.Those brigades who had proved their mettle at Donelson, and who hadlong stood fast, were attacked so violently that they gave way, and thevictors hurled themselves upon Sherman's flank.
Dick and his two young comrades perceived through the flame and smokethe new attack. It seemed to Dick that they were being enclosed nowby the whole Southern army, and he felt a sense of suffocation. He wasdizzy from such a long and terrible strain and so much danger, and hewas not really more than half conscious. He was loading and firing hisrifle mechanically, but he always aimed at something in the red stormbefore them, although he never knew whether he hit or missed, and wasglad of it.
The division of Sherman had been standing there seven hours, sustainingwith undaunted courage the resolute attacks of the Southern army, butthe sixth sense warning Dick that it had begun to shake at last wastrue. The sun had now passed the zenith and was pouring intense andfiery rays upon the field, sometimes piercing the clouds of smoke, andrevealing the faces of the men, black with sweat and burned gunpowder.
A cry arose for Grant. Why did not their chief show himself upon thefield! Was so great a battle to be fought with him away? And where wasBuell? He had a second great army. He was to join them that day. Whatgood would it be for him to come tomorrow? Many of them laughed inbitter derision. And there was Lew Wallace, too! They had heard that hewas near the field with a strong division. Then why did he not come uponit and face the enemy? Again they laughed that fierce and bitter laughdeep down in their throats.
The attack upon Sherman never ceased for an instant. Now he was assailednot only from the front, but from both flanks, and some even gaining therear struck blows upon his division there. One brigade upon his left wascompelled to give way, scattered, and lost its guns. The right wing wasalso driven in, and the center yielded slowly, although retaining itscohesion.
The three lads were on their feet now, and it seemed to them thateverything was lost. They could see the battle in front of them only,but rumors came to them that the army was routed elsewhere. But neitherSherman nor McClernand would yield, save for the slow retreat, yieldingground foot by foot only. And there were many unknown heroes aroundthem. Sergeant Whitley blazed with courage and spirit.
"We could be worse off than we are!" he shouted to Dick. "GeneralBuell's army may yet come!"
"Maybe we could be worse off than we are, but I don't see how it'spossible!" shouted Dick in return, a certain grim humor possessing himfor the moment.
"Look! What I said has come true already!" shouted the sergeant. "Hereis shelter that will help us to make a new stand!"
In their slow retreat they reached two low hills, between which a smallravine ran. It was not a strong position, but Sherman used it to theutmost. His men fired from the protecting crests of the hills, and hefilled the ravine with riflemen, who poured a deadly fire upon theirassailants.
Now Sherman ordered them to stand fast to the last man, because it wasby this road that the division of Lew Wallace must come, if it came atall. But Southern brigades followed them and the battle raged anew, asfierce and deadly as ever.
Although their army was routed at many points the Northern officersshowed indomitable courage. Driven back in the forest they alwaysstrove to form the lines anew, and now their efforts began to show somesuccess. Their resistance on the right hardened, and on the left theyheld fast to the last chain of hills that covered the wharves and theirstores at the river landing. As they took position here two gunboats inthe river began to send huge shells over their heads at the attackingSouthern columns, maintaining a rapid and heavy fire which shookassailants and strengthened defenders. Again the water had come to thehelp of the North, and at the most critical moment. The whole Northernline was now showing a firmer front, and Grant, himself, was directingthe battle.
Fortune, which had played a game with Grant at Donelson, played a fargreater one with him on the far greater field of Shiloh. The red dawn ofShiloh, when Johnston was sweeping his army before him, had found him atSavannah far from the field of battle. The hardy and vigorous Nelson hadarrived there in the night with Buell's vanguard, and Grant had orderedit to march at speed the next day to join his own army. But he, himself,did not reach the field of Shiloh until 10 o'clock, when the fiercestbattle yet known on the American continent had been raging for severalhours.
Grant and his staff, as they rode away from his headquarters, heard thebooming of cannon in the direction of Shiloh. Some of them thought itwas a mere skirmish, but it came continuously, like rolling thunder, andtheir trained ears told them that it rose from a line miles in length.One seeks to penetrate the mind of a commanding general at such a time,and see what his feelings were. Again the battle had been joined, andwas at its height, and he away!
Those trained ears told him also that the rolling thunder of the cannonwas steadily moving toward them. It could mean only that the Northernarmy had been driven from its camp and that the Southern army waspushing its victory to the utmost. In those moments his agony must havebeen intense. His great army not only attacked, but beaten, and he notthere! He and his staff urged their horses forward, seeking to gain fromthem new ounces of speed, but the country was difficult. The hills wererough and there were swamps and mire. And, as they listened, the roarof battle steadily came nearer and nearer. There was no break in theNorthern retreat. The sweat, not of heat but of mental agony, stood upontheir faces. Grant was not the only one who suffered.
Now they met some of those stragglers who flee from every battlefield,no matter what the nation. Their faces were white with fear and theycried out that the Northern army was destroyed. Officers cursed them andstruck at them with the flats of their swords, but they dodged the blowsand escaped into the bushes. There was no time to pursue them. Grant andhis staff never ceased to ride toward the storm of battle which ragedfar and wide around the little church of Shiloh.
The stream of fugitives increased, and now they saw swarms of men whostood here and there, not running, but huddled and irresolute. Neverdid Fortune, who brought this, her favorite, from the depths, bring himagain in her play so near to the verge of destruction. When he came uponthe field, the battle seemed wholly lost, and the whole world would havecried that he was to blame.
But the bulldog in Grant was never of stauncher breed than on thatday. His face turned white, and he grew sick at the sight of the awfulslaughter. A bullet broke the small sword at his side, but he did notflinch. Preserving the stern calm that always marked him on the field hebegan to form his lines anew and strengthen the weaker points.
Yet the condition of his army would have appalled a weaker will. It hadbeen driven back three miles. His whole camp had been taken. His secondline also had been driven in. Many thousands of men had fallen and otherthousands had been taken. Thirty of his cannon were in the hands of theenemy, and although noon had now come and gone there was no sound tobetoken the coming of the troops led by Wallace or Nelson. Well mightGrant's own stout heart have shrunk appalled from the task before him.
Wallace was held back by confused orders, pardonable at such a time.The eager Nelson was detained at Savannah by Buell, who thought thatthe sounds of the engagement they heard in the Shiloh woods was a minoraffair, and who wanted Nelson to wait for boats to take him there.
It seemed sometimes to Dick long afterward, when the whole of the greatShiloh battle became clear, that Fortune was merely playing a game ofchess, with the earth as a board, and the armies as pawns. Grant's armywas ambushed with its general absent. The other armies which were almostat hand were delayed for one reason or another. While as for the South,the genius that had planned the attack and that had carried it forwardwas quenched in death, when victory was at its height.
But for the present the lad had little time for such thoughts as these.The success of Sherman in holding the new position infused new courageinto him and those around him. The men in gray, wearied with theirimmense exertions, and having suffered frightful losses themselves,abated somewhat the energy and fierceness of their attack.
The dissolved Northern regiments had time to reform. Grant seized anew position along a line of hills, in front of which ran a deep ravinefilled with brushwood. He and his officers appreciated the advantage andthey massed the troops there as fast as they could.
Now Fortune, after having brought Grant to the verge of the pit, wasdisposed to throw chances in his way. The hills and the ravine wereone. Another, and most important it was, was the presence of guns ofthe heaviest calibre landed some days ago from the fleet, and left thereuntil their disposition could be determined. A quick-witted colonel,Webster by name, gathered up all the gunners who had lost their ownguns and who had been driven back in the retreat, and manned this greatbattery of siege guns, just as the Southern generals were preparing tobreak down the last stand of the North.
Meanwhile, a terrible rumor had been spreading in the ranks of theSouthern troops. The word was passed from soldier to soldier that theircommander, Johnston, whom they had believed invincible, had been killed,and they did not trust so much Beauregard, who was left in command,nor those who helped. Their fiery spirit abated somewhat. There was nodecrease of courage, but continuous victory did not seem so easy now.
Confusion invaded the triumphant army also. Beauregard had divided theleadership on the field among three of his lieutenants. Hardee now urgedon the center, Bragg commanded the right, and Polk, the bishop-general,led the left. It was Bragg's division that was about to charge the greatbattery of siege guns that the alert Webster had manned so quickly. Fiveminutes more and Webster would have been too late. Here again were thefortunes of Grant brought to the very verge of the pit. The Northerngunboats at the mouth of Lick Creek moved forward a little, and theirguns were ready to support the battery.
The Kentucky regiment was wedged in between the battery and a brigade,and it was gasping for breath. Colonel Winchester, slightly woundedin three places, commanded his men to lie down, and they gladly threwthemselves upon the earth.
There was a momentary lull in the battle. Wandering winds caught up thebanks of smoke and carried most of them away. Dick, as he rose a little,saw the Southern troops massing in the forest for an attack upon theirnew position. They seemed to be only a few yards away and he clearlyobserved the officers walking along the front of the lines. It flashedupon him that they must hold th
ese hills or Grant's army would perish.Where was Buell? Why did he not come? If the Southerners destroyed oneNorthern army today they would destroy another tomorrow! They wouldbreak the two halves of the Union force in the west into pieces, firstone and then the other.
"What do you see, Dick?" asked Warner, who was lying almost flat uponhis face.
"The Confederate army is getting ready to wipe us off the face of theearth! Up with your rifle, George! They'll be upon us in two minutes!"
They heard a sudden shout behind them. It was a glad shout, and well itmight be. Nelson, held back by Buell's orders, had listened long tothe booming of the cannon off in the direction of Shiloh. Nothing couldconvince him that a great battle was not going on, and all through themorning he chafed and raged. And as the sound of the cannon grew louderhe believed that Grant's army was losing.
Nelson obtained Buell's leave at last to march for Shiloh, but it wasa long road across hills and creeks and through swamps. The cannon sankdeep in the mire, and then the ardent Nelson left them behind. Now heknew there was great need for haste. The flashing and thundering infront of them showed to the youngest soldier in his command that a greatbattle was in progress, and that it was going against the North. Hisdivision at last reached Pittsburg Landing and was carried across theriver in the steamers. One brigade led by Ammen outstripped the rest,and rushed in behind the great battery and to its support, just as theSouthern bugles once more sounded the charge.
Dick shouted with joy, too, when he saw the new troops. The next momentthe enemy was upon them, charging directly through a frightful dischargefrom the great guns. The riddled regiments, which had fought so long,gave way before the bayonets, but the fresh troops took their places andpoured a terrible fire into the assaulting columns. And the great gunsof the battery hurled a new storm of shell and solid shot. The ranksof the Southern troops, worn by a full day of desperate fighting, werebroken. They had crossed the ravine into the very mouths of the Northernguns, but now they were driven back into the ravine and across it.Cannon and rifles rained missiles upon them there, and they withdrewinto the woods, while for the first time in all that long day a shout oftriumph rose from the Union lines.
Another lull came in the battle.
"What are they doing now, Dick?" asked the Vermonter.
"I can't see very well, but they seem to be gathering in the forest fora fresh attack. Do you know, George, that the sun is almost down?"
"It's certainly time. It's been at least a month since the Johnnies ranout of the forest in the dawn, and jumped on us."
It was true that the day was almost over, although but few had noticedthe fact. The east was already darkening, and a rosy glow from the westfell across the torn forest. Here and there a dead tree, set on fireby the shells, burned slowly, little flames creeping along trunk andboughs.
Bragg was preparing to hurl his entire force upon Sherman and thebattery. At that moment Beauregard, now his chief, arrived. But a fewminutes of daylight were left and the swarthy Louisianian looked at thegreat losses in his own ranks. He believed that the army of Buell was sofar away that it could not arrive that night and he withheld the charge.
The Southern army withdrew a little into the woods, the night rusheddown, and Shiloh's terrible first day was over.
The Guns of Shiloh: A Story of the Great Western Campaign Page 17