The Shiloh Series: Books 1-3

by Phillip Bryant

  Davies held his tongue. He’d had his orders, and they were impossible to fulfill. He was ordered to man the works early that morning and had little time to actually man them before the Confederates attacked. He decided it would do little good to point that out; Rosecrans would not listen anyway.

  “General Rosecrans,” interrupted General Hamilton, commanding the third division, “General Davies’s 1st Division was deployed so as to cover too broad a front and could not protect the hill that commands the Purdy road as it cuts through the works where the Rebels poured through.” Hamilton was not a man who felt the need to defend a fellow officer often, especially when that officer might be ahead of him in line of promotion and from another army, but he himself had also failed to stem the oncoming tide that day.

  “And why did not your brigades attack as I ordered? I ordered you to turn and attack the enemy’s open flank. Your front was clear. You should have been able to roll right over them!” Rosecrans jabbed a stubby finger toward Hamilton.

  “Sir,” Hamilton protested, “the ground behind the old Rebel works is swampy and covered in woods. Buford’s brigade couldn’t disengage and redeploy before dark, and when he did he ran into two brigades posted on high ground while Buford was marching through the bogs. Another Rebel brigade threatened his flank, and he halted. Buford acted according to the situation, General, and I concurred with his choice to halt. He could do nothing less in my opinion, given the circumstances.”

  “General Hamilton, your men did not act with sufficient élan,” Rosecrans sputtered, feeling the blood rise in his cheeks. He could only imagine the telegrams flying to and from St. Louis between Grant and Halleck regarding the danger Corinth was in, and he would get the blame. He gave a sigh and folded his arms and looked about the room. He saw faces that were tired and worn. Davies had lost three brigade commanders this day, and his division was used up, but he could not afford to pull them into reserve. It had been a mistake to send both Davies and McKean forward with Hamilton instead of Stanley, Rosecrans surmised. Rosecrans chose to forget why he’d sent Hamilton instead of Stanley—Stanley’s brigades had failed him at Iuka a week earlier. Rosecrans needed someone else to blame, and it was Hamilton’s turn.

  “Sir, we can blame each other all we want at our court-martials, but we occupy a position now as untenable or worse than the old Rebel works,” General Davies cut in.

  Rosecrans stopped pacing and smiled. “Now General Davies, it is premature to call our court of inquiry just yet.” He gave a laugh, a nervous titter that was neither genuine mirth nor humor. “We have pulled back into the inner works around the batteries, but word from General Grant is that General Hurlbut is marching from Bolivar, or going to. His communication is delayed because of the telegraph and rail lines being cut and is eight hours old. He does not even know yet about our close call today and still thinks that we are holding the line at the outer works. We will need to hold on for the morning before the reinforcements from Renzie and Iuka can arrive. If they hit us in the morning, it will be just us to repel the enemy.”

  “Sir, the problem is they have the woods to form behind and this ridge to cover their movements, and the cover only leaves us one hundred yards of clearing at most in some places, especially around Battery Robinett on the western flank. We’ve placed batteries on the high ground on the south end of town and have field batteries all along the line, but the enemy merely has to form in depth and come charging out of the trees to take Robinett and Powell on the right.” General Hamilton pointed on the map spread on a table in the middle of the room. “We’ve concentrated around the outskirts of the town and among the batteries, but any coup de main they attempt will succeed at any point.”

  “That is why we needed to halt the enemy at the outer works. The inner batteries were just to protect the rail lines and be the last-ditch stand in case of trouble. The enemy was not supposed to threaten Corinth at all! If General Grant didn’t have the army scattered all over Mississippi, I would not right now be threatened with the prospect of having my army annihilated. It is only providence that has saved it thus far.” Rosecrans resumed his pacing.

  “Have General Mizner’s cavalry push up the Pittsburg and Purdy roads,” Rosecrans said, “I want to know if the way is clear toward Pittsburg Landing. If we have to abandon Corinth we will need to push up that road so as not to be cut off entirely from the rest of the army. If we fall back toward Iuka we’ll be separated further from Grant and Hurlbut. If we lose Corinth, we lose Middle Tennessee and Memphis.”

  The division commanders were silent, only nodding in agreement. When Rosecrans was at his peak he could talk a mile a minute and jump from subject to subject without pause or rest. One moment despondent and the next convinced of victory, he could turn round about all in the same dialogue.

  “General, my division was handled roughly today, with some regiments suffering 20 percent casualties and many captured in the retreat. They are exhausted,” General Davies said.

  “What would you have me do, General? We cannot retreat, and we’ve retreated to our last position. If only McKean’s assault had been pushed forward with more vigor!” Rosecrans glanced at Hamilton. “We might have pushed the enemy back behind the outer line.”

  “Sir, the men and officers acted coolly and with great determination this day; they could not hold the enemy back in the numbers they brought to bear,” Davies protested.

  “General Davies, you and your men will have to do better tomorrow! All of you! The men will need to stand and fight on this line, or there will be the devil to pay! Now, if we can hold out until noon, I think we will be in a better position once Ord arrives. I’ve sent to General Grant what our position is, but we will not get any aid from any other part of the army in time. We are on our own. Now that the official business is over, will you gentlemen join me for some dinner?”

  The division commanders looked from one to another in indecision. Dinner and coffee with the general meant staying up all night and listening to Rosecrans wax philosophic about any number of things from biblical theology to engineering to literature to the conduct of the war. Rosecrans was at best indefatigable and at worst an insomniac. He slept less than any of his commanders and worked his chief of staff to death. Anyone agreeing to be on his staff was warned that the general liked to keep late hours and would talk to anyone too politic to bow out.

  “Sir, I need to get back to my division and finish making my dispositions,” General Davies said with a salute. General Stanley, who had kept his tongue while Hamilton and Davies took the lashing, quickly looked away and half-rose from the table he’d been leaning against as if to follow. It had been Stanley’s turn only two weeks ago at Iuka for not pushing Price’s divisions off the high ground. It didn’t pay to open one’s mouth in defense of anyone in front of the general. General McKean muttered an agreement and reached for his hat to go.

  “Gentlemen,” Rosecrans stated just as McKean and Davies had turned to leave, “We cannot retreat up the Purdy or the Pittsburg roads. We will have to fight it out here or die. See to it your pickets are alert, as the enemy will come booming at first light. Gentlemen, it has been my honor to serve with each one of you.” Rosecrans offered his hand to each of his commanders. “Lord willing, we will see each other again after the day is through.” Davies and McKean regarded the hand warily before taking it in turn for a shake. Rosecrans could be overly dramatic and then turn on others later if it suited his needs.

  As both McKean and Davies took the steps of the house down to the yard, Davies fished the stub of a cigar out of an inner pocket and regarded it closely. McKean halted next to him as he righted his slouch hat and sighed.

  “Grant wouldn’t have made this a mess,” McKean stated after a moment’s silence. Fires were blazing all about the ruined yard of the house, and torches were lit along the main road as wagon traffic rolled to and fro.

  “No, but he might have been just as taken in by the enemy’s approach as the general was,” Davies replied be
fore lighting his cigar and taking a long drag. “Had we occupied those works fully, Price wouldn’t have cut through us so easily.”

  “It will be our heads on the block along with Rosecrans if the enemy takes Corinth tomorrow,” McKean replied.

  “We do what we have to do, General. My brigades are used up, commands are all shuffled, and I do not know that they can hold if they are pressed tomorrow morning,” Davies stated dryly.

  “General, you’re on my right in the line. I expect that you will hold, or my line goes too.”

  “I can’t guarantee my brigades will hold under pressure; they have taken too heavy a beating today.” With that, Davies strode off, leaving McKean dumbstruck.

  Inside the house, Rosecrans and his aide-de-camp were finalizing the written orders that would be delivered to each division commander.

  “Sir,” Major Julius Garesche said, “Even though we spent the better part of two days trying to strengthen the battery positions, there is a vulnerability to carry Battery Robinett by direct assault. It was never intended to be anything but a commanding position on the Purdy road and the railroad lines. The enemy will have a marshaling point just in front of these positions between Batteries Powell and Robinett, and other than the batteries themselves, there’s nothing to prevent the enemy from entering the town.”

  “I sighted those positions myself, Julius!” Rosecrans replied angrily. An engineer in civilian life and briefly in the regular army after graduating West Point in 1842, Rosecrans prided himself on the science of building defensive works. Rosecrans recovered his temper quickly; Julius was a longtime friend and confidant.

  Garesche continued, undaunted by the outburst. “Sir, the battery positions were only meant for supporting the rail heads and defending from attack from the south and east. The terrain to the north and west leaves the enemy ridges to hide behind and woods to seek cover in. I do not believe the batteries themselves are going to be enough to defend against assault.”

  “Dammit, Julius! That is what the men will have to do.”

  “Well, Julius, it is just you and me,” Rosecrans said heartily. Coffee was poured, and a poor-looking plate of salt pork and some potatoes was brought in. It was already 1 a.m., but Rosecrans did not eat on any schedule. It would be another long night with the general.

  ****

  A bare mile away, hidden by the trees and darkness and covered by the sounds of fevered chopping of trees to form breastworks, the 2nd Texas and Moore’s brigade were getting settled for the night on a new line of advance, well away from the prying eyes of pickets and covered by the woods in their front. Though the men would be lying on their arms, there would be little sleep and no water or food. The supply trains were being brought up in the darkness, but only as far as the intersection of the Memphis and Corinth roads—a good two miles away over uneven and rough ground. Ammunition trains would be brought up first and given priority for both caissons and troops, and what water was found in the Elam creek was greedily gulped. Only precious drops remained in most canteens. Water, too, was a mile or more in the rear.

  Michael huddled around Colonel Rogers with the company commanders and subalterns to hear what Jones had to say about what was to happen in a few hours. They would attack for certain, but who and when? The regiment had its bivouac in a wood atop a long hill that was difficult to ascend in the darkness and in formation, the trees and shrubs proving treacherous to negotiate in near blackness. Somewhere out in front and below the hilltop was the enemy. The night was cloudless, but a low moon obscured much of the distance but for the occasional pinprick of light in a window far and away. The town was invisible from the trees; they were reasonably assured they were close to the enemy skirmishers, though none had been heard from.

  “General Moore’s plan is to have Phifer and Cabell form the front line of the brigade with our brigade in reserve behind Phifer’s for an assault in two lines. Hébert is to open the fight on the right, and once Campbell’s brigade steps off, Cabell’s brigades will move forward. We and Phifer will step off and thus roll the attack forward.” Colonel Rogers drew in the dirt as he talked.

  As Michael listened his mind wandered, the details of the assault giving rise to what might happen once the shooting started. What could Michael expect once the regiment stepped off? Who would deploy as skirmishers? How would the regiment align: in column of battalions or in regimental line? What commands would Michael need to execute to change formations? Michael had studied the company evolutions and had certainly watched them be executed, but to do it without thought and at a critical moment was what he most feared failing at. A moment lost would mean disaster if a command was not given, or if the wrong one was. Michael tried to listen to what the other brigades would be doing, but his mind was on moving his battalion around from column to line.

  “General Price is positioning six batteries on a ridge just in front of the enemy line that are to open up before first light on the enemy positions and hopefully create as much havoc as possible. The enemy has built up several positions near the town, but our scouts report that no other earthworks have been erected, so the fighting will be around these batteries that hold heavy artillery pieces. The enemy has good position as far as interior lines, but he’s bottled up, and we have good ground for moving to the assault. Hébert is to step off at first light, so we should be ready to move at 4 a.m.”

  Michael nodded absently but barely took it in save for the news of the fortified battery positions: he was going to be on the receiving end of the artillery fire he used to subject enemy formations to. An infantry regiment had a position of advantage that protected it for a time from the searching fire of a battery, but, in the end, the infantry would come out into the open and be subject to all kinds of fire. These men all knew it: assaulting a fixed position was going to be more than a roll of the dice and a chance at chuck-a-luck. The incoming fire would be random, and no one would be safe from it.

  Colonel Rogers dismissed the commanders, and Michael caught up with Captain Wyrich as the two men cut their way through the trees. Thick layers of last season’s dead leaves blanketed the ground, covering protruding roots, unceremoniously catching on the feet and sending one stumbling. All about was the hidden noise of an army, men who appeared out of the gloom and darkness or from behind tree trunks.

  “Eerie being back here, huh?” Wyrich said as the two walked back to the company positions. The companies were stretched out and more or less forming line of battle, with those not on picket detail stretched across every spot of flat ground a body could find or make by piling up the dried leaves as bedding. A few yards in front, the stacks of rifles marked the line each man would quickly fall in on should the call be made to stand to arms.

  “We had camps over the fields we crossed earlier, camps that stank of waste and disease,” Michael replied.

  “The best thing General Beauregard did was abandon this place; I remember laying in the hospital with the shivers thinkin’ I was a dead man,” Wyrich replied.

  “This was an awful place to sit an’ wait for the enemy to come for months. This time, the enemy don’t seem to have settled in too tightly.” Michael stopped and looked about for a place to make his home for the rest of the night. Dragging his feet through the leaves, he searched for any protruding roots or stones, anything that was going to make for a lousy night of rest.

  “That is hopefully our advantage,” Wyrich said. “Going to be on the other end of it this time, attacking one of their batteries.”

  “Deadly business, but a battery is only as solid as the infantry around it. A battery is vulnerable up close and limited in what it can do,” Michael replied as he kicked his left heel into the earth.

  “You never gonna let go of that, are you?” Wyrich added.

  “No, perhaps not. A battery commander will take risks if there’s infantry nearby. If there’s a probability that the infantry won’t stand, he has his guns to think about above all.” Michael looked at his friend, knowing what was about to co
me out of his mouth. “The guns was too close to the enemy that day. We didn’t have room to limber up and move. I wouldn’t want my guns holed up in some fortification and not have a clear egress. A fortification like that can only be taken from several sides at once.” He kicked at a spot that made a dull thump, finding a root.

  “I tried to rally my company an’ was one of those what run by you, but you can only do what you can when a panic sets in. You won’t see that happen again of these men,” Wyrich replied.

  “I don’t think these men will break and run again either. But we in no better shape now than you was then. A day’s worth of marching and fighting and little sleep, and now no water or food,” Michael replied and began sweeping the leaves away with the sides of his boots.

  “These men still remember that day like it were yesterday, an’ a humiliation like that don’t wear off easily. No one remembers the 2nd pushing through the enemy camps or routing the 55th Illinois or almost coming up to the landing at last light and nearly breaking their line. It was this one instance when something started somewhere and one man runs, followed by another, then another, then it’s one company and another,” Wyrich said with a frown.

  “Don’t think no one blames the 2nd or anyone for that,” Michael said. The files of infantry crowded about between the trees appeared to be animated by the knowledge that despite their exertions of the day, they would be entering into something more important in a few hours; few were finding sleep, though there was a hush about the wood even though it concealed several thousand men. The men didn’t know what exactly lay ahead of them, about the fortifications or the guns; they only knew that the enemy held the town and it was up to them to push him out.

  “The 2nd still does; the company marched toward them barricades and positions this morning without any flinching and charged over the works like they was hoping to recoup their pride. Only the enemy didn’t oblige by staying to fight. We charged them in that camp like it was time to have our revenge, and the enemy did put up a little fight before breaking for the rear. That was some recompense, but not enough. We need to take a position with souvenirs before the shame of that one incident is erased from our memory.” Wyrich found a spot where he could lean his back against a sturdy tree and unrolled his ground cloth.