With both flanks engaged, the middle of Wheeler’s line became the dramatic focus. Under the cover of unrelenting volleys from the 8th Indiana Cavalry and artillery rounds sent over by the 10th Wisconsin Battery, the 2nd Kentucky rode forward, ripped passages through the barrier, and penetrated the enemy’s center. Wheeler’s second position collapsed as the various units disengaged to make their way through Waynesboro toward safety behind Brier Creek.
“Through the streets of Waynesboro we rushed,” crowed an Indiana rider, “through the streets of Waynesboro they retreated.” Wheeler himself admitted that his men “were so warmly pressed that it was with difficulty we succeeded in withdrawing.” Even as the 2nd Kentucky Cavalry pushed through the town, Colonel Murray abruptly detached half the regiment for a mission to the right, a fact the unit’s commander did not realize until he cleared the streets and drew his men into a line, only then realizing that he had just fifty or sixty troopers to take on all of Wheeler’s command. Fortunately, the Confederates were more intent on getting behind Brier Creek than beating up on a lone Union regiment, plus help was on hand in the form of Baird’s infantry. “Kilpatrick stopped; we marched thru his lines, formed in line, and went about a mile,” recollected a Missouri soldier. “We found neither works nor rebs and fell back and got dinner.”
In the town, Brigadier General Kilpatrick was relishing the moment. An Indiana man recalled him “rushing around like a child with a new toy, saying: ‘I knew I could lick Wheeler! I can do it again!’” “I seen one old Reb laying along the road (quite an old man) that had been [struck by] a saber stroke across his back and [he] was not dead yet but mortally wounded and under other circumstances his grey hairs would have appealed to my heart for sympathy,” said one of Baird’s infantrymen, “but we are not here to sympathize with men who brought it on themselves.” Another foot soldier saw a “woman [who] was kneeling over the dead body of a Confederate cavalryman; perhaps it was her husband.”
North of Waynesboro, Wheeler’s men retreated across Brier Creek, closely shadowed by Kilpatrick’s two reserve regiments, the 5th Ohio Cavalry and the 5th Kentucky Cavalry. While the Kentuckians covered them, the Buckeyes destroyed the wagon and railroad bridges. Back in the town, some of the Pennsylvania troopers “amused themselves by examining the contents of the fine houses in town and making several bon fires of buildings, &c.” A seventeen-year-old female resident was drafted to entertain on her family’s piano, relocated into the street. “They made me play a long time,” she recalled, “but I never played anything but Southern airs. I must say I was not afraid of them, and I told them so, but they laughed it off.” Neither Baird nor Kilpatrick had any intention of sticking around very long, so by 3:00 P.M. the Federals were hustling away to the southeast, toward a small place on the map named Alexander.
As the foot soldiers departed Waynesboro, an Indiana man marveled that the streets, empty right after the fight, were “alive with women and children who had on their Sunday clothes and it reminded me of home. They had hid in cellars while the fight was going on and come out to see us.” The next day a small group of these civilians would gather to bury a Georgia officer killed in the fighting. A young girl present remembered that “as there was no minister in the town, Judge Lawson read the funeral service and the ladies sang some hymns.”
Kilpatrick’s troopers formed the column’s rear guard. On top of today’s combat decisions, the cavalry commander faced a difficult personal matter. The promising officer Captain Samuel Norton, who was too badly wounded to be moved, would have to be left behind. A 10th Ohio cavalryman volunteered to remain with him. Kilpatrick’s contribution was a note to be given to Joseph Wheeler. “For the memory of old association,” Kilpatrick asked that Wheeler see that Norton received care and that the trooper be allowed to care for the officer he termed “very brave and a true gentleman.” In return for Wheeler’s courtesies, Kilpatrick promised “the thanks of your old friend.”
In their after-action reports, both Wheeler and Kilpatrick claimed to have been fighting against a numerically superior enemy, and each was certain that they had inflicted grievous casualties on the other. Wheeler never bothered with a head count, but a cavalry veteran and later historian of his campaigns pegged his strength at about 2,000. Kilpatrick had left Atlanta on November 15 with some 5,000 riders; attrition and detachments had likely lowered the number engaged at Waynesboro to perhaps 3,700. So the advantage in numbers was with Kilpatrick, though the force multiplier enjoyed by defenders was in Wheeler’s favor.
The reckonings of the Confederate losses made by Union participants ranged from less than 100 to more than 500. A fair estimate of the killed, wounded, or captured would be around 250. Wheeler claimed inflicting 197 casualties on the Federals. A tally of the losses recorded in the various regimental accounts totals 79, suggesting that the Rebel fire, while enthusiastic, was not especially well aimed. Various regimental histories and contemporary newspaper accounts peg the total Union loss in this day’s action at between 125 and 190.
One target that Wheeler’s men did hit sported four legs. Saber charges against log barricades may have looked impressive from a distance, but close up they were hell on the horses. Kilpatrick reported “upwards of 200 in killed and wounded.” In a note to Major General Sherman, the cavalryman complained that his continuing duties as rear guard allowed the infantry to scour the country of livestock, leaving nothing for his troopers. “I…respectfully urge that a few hundred horses be turned over to me from one or more of the army corps marching on roads parallel or near to my line of march,” Kilpatrick requested.
Other than thinning the Yankee horse herd, what was accomplished? Some of Wheeler’s adherents stake the saving of Augusta on the outcome of the action, but it was never in either Baird’s or Kilpatrick’s brief to push beyond Brier Creek. Even had Wheeler offered no opposition, the destruction of the Brier Creek bridges would have completed the mission and turned the Union column to the south. Inflicting damage on the Yankee cavalry, while perhaps quenching a warrior’s thirst, left the core of Sherman’s striking force untouched; besides, with Baird’s infantry on hand Wheeler had no chance of delivering a telling blow.
One of the Federal infantrymen on the scene was certain that on this memorable day “the rebel cavalry have learned a lesson they will not soon forget.” However, the only changes that would come to Wheeler’s operation had everything to do with topography and nothing to do with any learned lessons. Kilpatrick, anxious to feather his cap, could crow about thrashing his opposite number, though the close presence of strong infantry supports dims any luster of that accomplishment. A stretch of a branch railroad had been wrecked (mostly by the infantry), some bridges destroyed, and a few buildings trashed in Waynesboro. Not a victory of any substance, though both Bragg (in Augusta) and Sherman viewed it as necessary to shield their more important assets from enemy interference.
Perhaps most critical for Sherman’s grand movement, the tricky pivot toward Savannah was accomplished without any significant challenge to the lengthy tail that was his true weak point. A few mounted bands made some uncoordinated rushes at wagons that were easily repulsed by the train guards; at no point were the supply vehicles imperiled by anything other than the broken dams, sucking mud, or lousy trails.
None of which diminishes the fortitude and courage shown by the fighting men on both sides. Compared with infantry combat, cavalry actions were fast moving, briefly violent, and given to abrupt reverses of fortune. A momentary repulse or a charge generally meant little in the overall ebb and flow of the action, though it did spice up an official report. Still, at the point of sharpest contact the combat was as fierce as any of the more celebrated mounted engagements of the war. Yet in many ways the infantry officer Major James Connolly was not far off the mark when he observed: “A cavalry fight is just about as much fun as a fox hunt; but, of course, in the midst of the fun somebody is getting hurt all the time.”
PART FOUR
Millen to Savannah<
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DECEMBER 5–10
CHAPTER 19
“Splendid Sight to See Cotton Gins Burn”
MONDAY, DECEMBER 5, 1864
Left Wing
The immediate result of the combat at Waynesboro was a separation by both sides: Wheeler to regroup and resupply, Kilpatrick to screen the rear of Baird’s column marching through Alexander to Jacksonboro. “No trouble from the Rebels so far,” a relieved Ohio trooper commented about midday. His summary would hold true through nightfall. A Pennsylvanian observed that they were “entering the swampy country lying between the Savannah and Ogeechee rivers,” while an Illinois trooper saw the change in more immediate terms with the comment, “Good water…begins to be a scarce article as we find swamps instead of streams.”
An answer to Kilpatrick’s departing request on behalf of Captain Norton was making its way forward. Wheeler assured Kilpatrick that the suffering officer would “receive every attention which can be bestowed upon a wounded soldier.” A Waynesboro physician who had taken Norton into his house, Dr. Edmund Byrne, passed back to Wheeler that the Yankee “was doing well and [was] out of pain at last accounts.” Sadly, this brief rally preceded a dramatic decline, and before this day was out the valiant officer would be dead.
Coordinating Baird’s marching infantry column with Kilpatrick’s screen kept Major James A. Connolly in regular contact with the cavalry officer. If anything, the infantryman’s low opinion of the mounted units in general and their leader in particular took on an even sharper edge. “Kilpatrick is the most vain, conceited, egotistical little popinjay I ever saw,” Connolly declared. “He has one redeeming quality—he rarely drinks spirituous liquors, and never to excess. He is a very ungraceful rider, looking more like a monkey than a man on horseback.”
Monday, December 5, 1864
Baird’s men were slowly closing the gap with the rest of the Fourteenth Corps, strung out along the main road between Waynesboro and Savannah. “Two or three plantations were all we passed, and they very poor ones,” wrote an Illinois diarist. “The whole surface of the earth is sand and the roads are almost ankle deep and marching difficult.” “All our bed clothes and our dishes are full of sand,” complained a Minnesota soldier. Still, the column made steady progress until it reached the crossing of Beaverdam Creek, where the enemy had burned the wagon bridge and clogged the creek with brush. While pioneers cleared the obstructions, a detail from the 58th Indiana set to work rebuilding the bridge. The job wasn’t completed until nearly 10:00 P.M., so the Fourteenth Corps settled down for the night around Jacksonboro, a small village that once had been the Screven County seat.
Black refugees continued to flock to the corps. “The number of negroes with us is perfectly astonishing and all have tales of the most barbarous cruelty at the hands of their master,” commented an Illinoisan. “They were a motley crowd, with clothes dirty and patched with many colors,” added an Indiana trooper, who continued, “Some of the women had young babies with them, and they were a nuisance in the army; but we could not drive them back, as they were seeking their freedom, and so they trudged on after us and we divided our rations with them.” “However they do not evoke my sympathy,” contributed an infantryman, echoing the sentiment of those commanding the corps. “I think them far better off with their masters than dragging along with the army.”
Matching general course and speed just a few miles to the south was the Twentieth Corps, which today passed through Sylvania, though it was a tough slog for many. “Streams or water swamps are so numerous that we can not learn their names any more,” grumbled an Illinois foot soldier. A Pennsylvania comrade recorded that “much of the road [was] being corduroyed through the interminable swamps.” “The wagons often get stuck in the mud, causing long and tedious marches…to come up with the advance,” contributed a New Yorker. “Some of the boys occupy their time during these waits playing chuckluck, draw and whiskey poker.”
Foragers reported mixed results; one termed the pickings “scarce,” while another inventoried a bounty that included “sweet potatoes, five pigs, hens, honey, bacon, etc., etc.” “Stop at house,” scrawled a diarist in the 129th Illinois. “Everything moveable taken, the women crying. Tell them they should have immigrated from this country before the war. They say that the women had nothing to do with the trouble. We can’t see it. Consider them our worst enemies.” Standing orders for rearguard units were to destroy all bridges once the column had passed. For one Pennsylvania regiment, this meant burning a short span and breaching a mill dam to flood the roadway. Hardly had these soldiers begun their task when “three foraging teams came in sight on the other side of the road. The men were ordered to cross the burning bridge, which they did, and succeeded in backing the flames and brought their teams and horses across in safety,” reported the officer in charge.
A new problem arose that was identified by a surgeon in the 19th Michigan, who wrote: “Uncultivated land is covered with a sort of vine grass about a foot high & so plenty that the fire readily burns the country over giving us a fine smoke to march in.” Fresh orders directed officers to halt all unauthorized arsons, nothing that “such fires occasion great delay, especially to the ammunition train.” There were other related issues as well, though less readily apparent. “Seen far in advance at night, these fires often lead the weary soldiers to believe that they are approaching camp, and they press on with renewed vigor, only to be deceived, and to discover other fires still farther ahead,” said an Illinois man. “The dead pine trees often catch fire, and the creeping, writhing flames ascend from their base to the topmost branches. They may be seen miles away. These scenes are indelibly impressed upon the mind.” Reflecting on the daytime wagon jams and evening conflagrations, a New Jersey quartermaster quipped that his options were reduced to either being “Trampled by day…[or] liable to be burnt up at night.”
Right Wing
The biggest question hanging over the Seventeenth Corps this day was: How much of a fight was awaiting them at Ogeechee Creek? The answer, to everyone’s great relief, was not much of one at all. “After considerable maneuvering of troops and some skirmishing by the 35th New Jersey, the enemy retired and we crossed the creek and went into camp,” recorded an Ohio officer. According to a signal officer present, word of the enemy’s departure was brought by foragers who had filtered across the creek even as units were deploying to storm the position. This intelligence, he noted, “of course was pleasant to all but those preparing for the attack.” The Rebels, chortled an Iowan, “concluded that they had better mover on, or they would get hurt, and the infantry left without firing a gun.” The railroad bridge had been burned, but the wagon crossing only de-planked, requiring a little labor by pioneer detachments before it was again carrying traffic.
Once over the creek, Seventeenth Corps soldiers not assigned to railroad wrecking went into bivouac to call it a day. Gunners from the 1st Minnesota Light Artillery enjoyed some poetic justice. “We got a number of the wooden spades they had used [to build their sand works] & burned them to cook our sweet potatoes by.” A member of the 10th Illinois recorded that four members of one company, who exceeded orders, were “tied by thumbs in front of [the] color-line for pillaging.” Others, under orders, took care of the railroad buildings as well as additional authorized targets. A Wisconsin man thought it a “splendid sight to see cotton gins burn.”
Sherman spent much of the morning on the porch of a two-story wood-frame house gazing over a well-tended garden while hoping for positive tidings from Ogeechee Creek. “Sat waiting for what might turn up,” noted Major Hitchcock. “General and staff on piazza talking,—General sometimes looking at map, and awaiting news from Blair.” The all-clear was sounded at 10:30 A.M., allowing Sherman to proceed with his entourage. They reached Ogeechee Creek about a half hour later to find, as Major Hitchcock put it, “the birds had flown.” “This is better than having to fight those fellows in these bushes, ain’t it?” Sherman joked as they made their way across the rebuilt w
agon bridge. Once on the other side, Hitchcock marveled at the now empty earthworks, which had been professionally sited to oppose any effort to ford the creek. A direct attack against a determined foe here would have been a slaughter. “Now you understand what a flank movement means,” a smiling Sherman told his aide.
As soon as his headquarters were established in the home of Mr. Matthew Lufburrow, Sherman drafted messages for major generals Howard and Slocum, canceling prior instructions to envelop the enemy position at Station No. 4½. He also wanted to tighten up the overall deployments. Now that they were approaching Savannah, whose garrison held the greatest number of enemy soldiers he had yet faced, Sherman was determined to keep his columns well in hand. The last thing he wanted was for any component to become so isolated from the rest that a Rebel force, striking out from Savannah, might engage the Union soldiers with a force approaching numerical parity. If that meant halting one or two corps to allow the others to catch up, then so be it. In the note to Major General Howard explaining his thinking, Sherman emphasized that “we must move in concert, or else [all] will get lost.” Overall, however, the General was well satisfied with how affairs were progressing. Everything, he later wrote, “seemed to favor us. Never do I recall a more agreeable sensation than the sight of our camps by night, lit up by the fires of fragrant pine-knots.”
Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea Page 39