The sun shone the next morning, September 1, and for a few hours the mood of the troops brightened too. Then orders came to unload all of the baggage from the wagons except for food and cooking utensils. The troops formed a line of battle with one change of clothes in their haversacks, plus canteens, guns, and cartridge boxes. While they were drilling, some of the troops noticed smoke billowing about three hundred yards behind them. Captain Henry Richards of the Ninety-Third Ohio Infantry broke ranks and ran over the hill to see what was happening. To his dismay, he found that Union general Green Clay Smith had panicked and ordered all the baggage burnt, presumably to speed the retreat of his troops. Meanwhile, Confederate general Kirby Smith, fresh off his victory at Richmond, was advancing toward Lexington. Buell thought that if General Bragg captured Louisville, not only would Kentucky be lost but Cincinnati itself would be subject to invasion. Anderson’s troops expected a battle. What they got was a footrace.
The evacuation of Lexington began around midnight. It took five days for ten thousand men to travel the fifty-two miles in oppressive heat. The scarcity of running water forced the soldiers to drink from whatever scum-topped stock ponds they could find. Ninety men fell by the wayside from exhaustion and thirst. Stragglers were captured by the enemy. Henry Richards did not mince words when describing the morale of the troops under General Nelson. “This march has been conducted in the most unchristian and inhuman manner,” Richards wrote to his father from Louisville. He chastised Nelson for avoiding a fight and attributed his incompetence to “a great lack of courage or capacity.” He worried that Colonel Anderson had taken ill; if he were to leave the regiment, Richards predicted, it would constitute its “death blow,” as Anderson was “the only field officer having the confidence of the men.”7
Anderson arrived in his native county in bad shape. The incessant movements of the past few weeks had left him exhausted. His asthma was back, accompanied by an even more dangerous condition: he had cholera. Forced to his bed, Anderson transferred command of his regiment to Colonel Hiram Strong. Of Anderson’s insomnia, Dr. A. T. Babbitt said that “he marched every night in the effect of the quinine.” He was not well enough to resume his duties for eighteen days. Eliza and the family went to visit their sick patriarch. Morale among the troops began to recover. While the Union generals waited a month for Bragg and Smith to mount an attack, Larz Anderson was given thirty thousand dollars to oversee the building of defenses on the north banks of the Ohio River. Ohio’s citizens held their collective breaths.8
Colonel Strong had strong opinions concerning his current corps of leaders. General William Thomas Ward, the brigade commander, was “thick headed.” Strong called division commander General James S. Jackson a “blustering, drinking, swearing bully.” Strong and Anderson were elated when Buell’s main force finally arrived at Louisville. The Ninety-Third was transferred to General Lovell H. Rousseau’s acclaimed brigade in General Joshua W. Sill’s division. Anderson returned to the regiment in late September.
Criticism of General Nelson was also widespread among officers and enlisted men. He made enemies easily, and one of these was fellow Union general Jefferson C. Davis. Nelson had suspended Davis over a recruiting issue, but General Horatio Gates ordered Davis returned to his command. They met at Gait House in Louisville, where Indiana governor Oliver P. Morton and others witnessed their brief reunion. Davis approached Nelson and accused him of exceeding his authority when the brigadier general suspended him. Nelson put his hand over his ear and refused to listen. At that point Davis repeated himself, drawing two slaps across the face from Nelson. “Did you hear that damned rascal insult me?” Davis cried as he stormed out of the room. He returned from the ladies parlor with a pistol and shot Nelson through the heart. It was the only instance in American history when one general had murdered another.9
Davis was arrested and set to be tried in Jefferson County court. Reaction to Nelson’s death, however, was muted. On September 30, the day following the shooting, Anderson wrote to his wife about the affair. Although Nelson had always treated him with respect, Anderson felt that Davis was “entirely justified in killing him.” Nelson had no right to “trample upon the rights or even the pride of others,” Charles reasoned. He consoled Davis and told him that he “sympathized with the living as well as regretting the dead.” Buell and other military authorities may have agreed, as Davis was never prosecuted for the murder.
Anderson hoped that his regiment would head back to Lexington, where they could learn their “new trade” as he called it, before being tested in battle. That plan was a fantasy. The relief that Union commanders felt by saving Louisville and Cincinnati soon turned to dread. Bragg had never intended to assault such a massive Union force. By threatening Louisville, Bragg had tricked Buell into leaving him an escape route open to the south. When Bragg started running, Buell was compelled to pursue. The chase was on.10
For five days Anderson’s regiment marched until they reached the west side of the Kentucky River, opposite Frankfort, on October 6. Fleeing rebel troops had destroyed the bridges, forcing the Union soldiers to construct a pontoon bridge in order to cross the river. The next day, they had no sooner crossed the river when Colonel Anderson received word that Kirby Smith’s forces had crossed to the west side. The Ninety-Third retraced its steps, crossed back to the west bank, and moved toward Lawrenceburg. Anderson’s regiment was delayed by several brief skirmishes on the way. On October 7, he predicted a “big battle in Kentucky” in a letter to Kitty. He had no idea that it would happen the very next day.11
Confederate forces massed at the small town of Perryville, Kentucky, for several reasons. Perhaps the most important of these was access to fresh water. Kentucky had endured a terrible drought for months, and soldiers on both sides who were not completely dehydrated were sickened by drinking out of stagnant ponds. When the advance portion of Buell’s army arrived on October 7, that water was almost reason enough to fight. The battle that ensued was terribly bloody, with about 20 percent of thirty-eight thousand troops engaged suffering as casualties. Bragg had pushed Union forces back nearly a mile but was forced to acknowledge that his poor strategic position was unchanged. He left that evening to rejoin Kirby Smith at Harrodsburg and continue their exodus.
Anderson’s regiment and most of the division did not make it to Perryville in time for the fight. When they arrived three days later, the scene was horrific. Anderson had never seen the aftermath of battle, and it both shocked and fascinated him. He saw carcasses of horses with their legs straight up in the air. Anderson described hundreds of men lying “dead, swollen, bursting—some blackened literally as the blackest negroes.” Other corpses still “white, pale, thin, beautiful,” contrasted with those whose legs had been “torn in shreds of fibers and bones” and still others “with their entire skulls blown away, the cannon ball dragging out all the brains.” After ten minutes of exposure to this hellish aftermath, many men were already desensitized. “How soon the most disgusting and appalling scenes become commonplace and dull sights,” Anderson marveled. Before long, men were eating and even laughing in view of this catastrophe. Surely this laughter had a touch of nerves for the many soldiers who had not yet seen real combat.12 Anderson felt that Buell’s strategy of luring Bragg into the net was wise. How could he risk letting him out again? Buell was viewed by his own troops “with universal contempt and suspicion,” Anderson wrote to Kitty. Their anger increased when Smith and Bragg slipped the noose and made their escape through the Cumberland Gap into middle Tennessee.13
President Lincoln had seen enough. He replaced Buell with Major General William Rosecrans. On October 24, Rosecrans arrived after a successful campaign in northern Mississippi. The soldiers rejoiced. Perhaps now they would end these incessant, debilitating marches and meet the enemy in a decisive and successful battle. They were on their way to Nashville to rest, regroup, and prepare for the next engagement. Despite two or three days without rations due to a commissary officer’s mistake, Anderso
n’s troops remained in good form and spirits. The soldiers of the Army of the Cumberland finally had a leader they could stake their lives on.14
The weather changed drastically from summer drought to late October snow. Rosecrans made sure that his troops had tents, their first since leaving Louisville. The general held an officer’s reception on November 2 near Bowling Green, Kentucky. Anderson was impressed by Rosecrans’s “simple, good-natured urbanity and sense” in contrast with the “affected hauteur and self-sufficiency” of Buell. There was talk at the gathering of making Anderson a brigadier general, but Anderson doubted that would ever come to pass. “I am not a Democrat with a following to be bribed,” he asserted, “and the Administration can’t forgive the offence of being for the Union outside of the Republican Party.” He would never ask Lincoln directly for this or any favor. He wished that his friends would not waste their time on such efforts and instead concentrate on helping the army win the war. If Anderson had his way, Rosecrans’s army would not go into winter quarters at Nashville but would push aggressively to the south, not stopping until they drove the Confederates into the Gulf of Mexico.15
The Ninety-Third Ohio arrived at Nashville on November 7. The garrison there had been cut off from all communications for nearly two months, so they were overjoyed when they saw the massive army march into town. Anderson’s regiment settled in for a month of drilling, guard, and fatigue duty. They were on picket duty for twenty-four hours every fourth day. A month of normal camp life was the first opportunity for sustained military instruction that the men had seen since they had enlisted back in August. The men were now well-fed, rested, and hungry for a fight. On December 6, they got their wish.
Anderson’s regiment left camp at 7:30 on a Saturday morning on a foraging expedition. They were accompanied by men from the Fifth Kentucky Infantry, the First Ohio Infantry, and the Ninety-Seventh Ohio Infantry regiments, in addition to four companies of artillery. These units escorted a wagon train some two miles in length down a minor road south toward Murfreesboro. After about seven miles, the train was halted by the sounds of cannon fire, and the Ninety-Third, which had been guarding the rear of the train, moved forward to form in line of battle. Not long after some minor skirmishing had taken place, Anderson received word that the rebels had maneuvered between the train and their camp and had captured five of their wagons. Brigade commander Colonel Harvey M. Buckley then ordered the Ninety-Third to relieve the Fifth Kentucky, who had been skirmishing with the enemy in the rear, turn the wagons around, and return to camp.
The train was long and not easy to turn. By 3:30 p.m., they were finally headed back when reports reached Anderson of rebels approaching on his right. Anderson and Hiram Strong rode up a small hill to witness a large number of Confederate soldiers running from the woods into a deep valley, shouting at the top of their lungs. The rebels thought they were attacking the center of the long train, not the rear of the same train now moving in the opposite direction. Anderson’s men raced along the side of the road, placing themselves between the train and the oncoming enemy assailants. As the Ninety-Third passed through a barnyard and reached a shed, they were greeted by a hail of bullets such as none of them had ever seen.
Anderson and his men were enveloped in a cacophony of whistling projectiles that made an awful sound like a hundred hammers battering the barn walls in rapid succession. Men shouted in confusion as the center of the Union column fell back several yards. Colonel Strong thought that the regiment might be lost right there. He was relieved when Company H emerged from under the shed, formed a battle line in the center, and commenced rapid return fire at the rebels less than two hundred yards away. Strong hid his horse behind the barn and rushed forward to find Anderson. He could not locate him.
One soldier said that Anderson’s horse had bolted away, taking its rider with it. Others said that he had been shot. Still others maintained that the colonel’s horse had run off without him. With their nearest support, the Ninety-Seventh Ohio, two miles distant, Anderson’s Ninety-Third Ohio was isolated and vulnerable. Strong became concerned. He finally saw Anderson running toward him over an open field 150 yards away, where he had gone with his regiment’s Company F. The engagement lasted just thirty minutes longer. When it was over, the Ninety-Third Ohio had driven off the enemy with a loss of only one killed and three wounded. Anderson praised the men for their “gallantry and firmness in this, their first fight.” The short but intense skirmish could hardly prepare them for what was to come just a few weeks later.16
On Christmas Eve 1862, Anderson’s fervent wish was granted. Rosecrans was moving south to confront Bragg and force a decisive battle. What should have ended in Kentucky in the defeat of a much smaller Confederate force was now a huge challenge. Bragg’s troops had joined General John C. Breckenridge’s army to form a formidable force of thirty-five thousand men. Anderson respected Major General Alexander McCook but claimed that his new brigade commander, Colonel Philemon P. Baldwin, “would not be trusted in civil life with the guidance on a smooth pike with a gentle ox-team.” Still, Anderson had confidence that his men, though inexperienced in warfare, were of good character and would perform well in battle. The huge army marched in three columns, with McCook’s right wing traveling the Nolensville Pike south to Triune.17
Two of Anderson’s nephews were among the forty-one thousand Union troops moving toward Murfreesboro. Colonel Nicholas L. Anderson, son of Charles’s brother Larz, commanded the Sixth Ohio Infantry. Nicholas’s younger brother, Edward L. Anderson, was a captain in the Fifty-Second Ohio. Edward’s regiment had been formed about the same time as had his uncle’s. Edward and Nicholas had escaped from the battle at Perryville unscathed. Nicholas’s troops were a seasoned, frontline fighting force. During the advance southeast from Nashville, Edward’s regiment was charged with maintaining the supply train with provisions. The three Andersons were slowly converging on a momentous event.
While Charles Anderson was excited to finally engage Bragg’s forces, he was less confident of his own leadership. “The tangled team does not feel the reins,” he admitted. “Indeed the driver does not feel very sure that he holds any.” Of the coming march to battle, Charles offered a haunting foreshadowing: “Some of our best hearts and minds will be called to their long account,” he predicted, “while a brigade of like heroes are gobbled up or cut to pieces in that sublime enterprise of robbing widows and orphan babies of their winter food, which we call foraging.”18
The Ninety-Third Ohio’s journey to Murfreesboro was slow and uneventful. Rain all day and heavy fog the next meant that Anderson’s men marched in mud that sometimes reached their knees. At times they could not see the road in front of them. Some soldiers’ shoes were so wet after four days of rain that they simply disintegrated, forcing them to march barefoot. A few minor skirmishes along the way held no promise of a big fight. Bragg’s cavalry was famous for harassing its enemies to slow their progress. Anderson’s troops joined the rest of the division at three o’clock in the afternoon of December 30, three miles northwest of Murfreesboro, near the division headquarters of Brigadier General Richard W. Johnson. Colonel Baldwin’s Third Brigade was placed in reserve behind the First and Second Brigades, which formed in a line of battle to the southeast, west of Stones River.
In some sections of the long line of opposition, the two armies were so close to each other that conversations between enemies took place. Conditions were so miserable that the bands of each army began playing not long after sundown to provide their forces with a small amount of pleasure. “Yankee Doodle” competed with “Dixie” as rival bands tried to outdo each other up and down the lines. At some point one of the bands launched into the poignant melody “Home Sweet Home.” In an instant all bands on both sides played the touching tune, while Confederate and Union soldiers sang in unison.
Anderson’s men finally fell into an uneasy sleep in a cedar thicket on that cold night. Their clothes and blankets were soaked and the ground just as wet. Most were hung
ry. It was pitch black darkness, as no fires were allowed. About midnight, another heavy rain set in. Some soldiers were so exhausted they just slept through the downpour, which continued all night. Bragg and Rosecrans slept little if at all. Each planned a morning attack on their enemy’s right wing. Bragg would strike first.19
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blood and Buttons
NEW YEAR’S EVE DAY dawned cold and dreary. A fine mist made the air seem heavy. The brigades of August Willich and Edward Kirk awoke about five o’clock in the morning, anticipating a warm fire and a hot breakfast. These men had a first look at their position and were pleased by what they saw. Most had an open line of fire in front, sufficient cover in the form of cedar breaks in their rear, and a potential escape path to the north ending at the Gresham house. Brigadier General August Willich, one of the most experienced officers in Major General Rosecrans’s army, protected the Army of the Cumberland’s exposed right flank. General Edward N. Kirk, a veteran of the Battle of Shiloh, commanded the brigade to the left of Willich, just across a small path called Gresham Lane.1
Colonel Philemon Baldwin, commanding the Third Brigade in the division of Richard Johnson, was with his men about a mile behind the other two brigades. Baldwin had four regiments at his disposal: the First Ohio, the Fifth Kentucky, the Sixth Indiana, and Charles Anderson’s Ninety-Third Ohio. These men were in reserve, positioned far enough back to respond to any threat to the Army of the Cumberland’s right flank. Most of the men of the Ninety-Third Ohio had been out scouting with cavalry half the night, after a tiring march the previous day. Since Anderson’s men had been late in arriving, Baldwin ordered them to take a position a few hundred yards behind Willich and Kirk. Anderson complied, but the night was so cold that his troops could not sleep. Feeling that they might rest easier in a cedar break, he moved them back behind the other reserve regiments of Baldwin’s brigade. This was against orders, but Baldwin was already asleep. The mere happenstance of this move would save many of Anderson’s men, as the very spot where the Ninety-Third Ohio first camped became the focal point of the Confederate attack just hours later.
The Lost Gettysburg Address Page 13