Shiloh and the Western Campaign of 1862

by Edward Cunningham

  About 1:00 p.m., Beauregard started preparations for a withdrawal to Corinth, Mississippi. He issued orders to staff officers to notify the various unit commanders of his decision. Arrangements were also made to deploy troops and artillery to cover the retreat. In particular, batteries were arranged in front of Shiloh Church and on the Ridge Road. Confederate cavalry units were ordered to burn or wreck everything that could not be carried off. Hundreds of tents and great mounds of supplies, dried off by the warm midday sun, were soon ablaze, while soldiers smashed and cut at the material that was still too damp to burn.26 Colonel Numa Augustin was dispatched to Corinth to prepare things there, arranging for food and shelter for the wounded.27

  At least one Southerner did not want to retreat. One of Beauregard’s staff officers stopped at the Shiloh Church hospital to arrange for the movement of the wounded to Corinth. He noted a young Confederate soldier, perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old, having a wounded hand dressed by a doctor. The boy calmly remarked, “Make haste, please, doctor, I want to go back and take another shot at the Yankees.”28 It was rapidly be coming too late for even such fighting spirit to prevail.

  About 2:00 p.m., the corps commanders started the withdrawal. Breckinridge moved first, forming a rear guard position near Shiloh Church. Beauregard told him that the army must be saved at all costs, adding that “this retreat must not be a rout.”29

  A little past 2:00 p.m., General Thomas J. Wood’s division reached the field. His Twentieth Brigade under Brigadier General (and later President) James A. Garfield moved up in time to catch some scattered fire from retreating enemy troops. The men were excited and ready to fight. They could hear triumphant shouts and yells, which seemed to indicate a Union victory. Walking wounded from other brigades straggled past the fast moving new arrivals exuberantly exclaiming, “We’ve got ‘em on the run, boy! Go for ‘em! Give ‘em the best you’ve got in the shop.” None of Garfield’s men were killed or wounded, although several were bruised by spent enemy slugs. Much to their dismay, they were unable to catch up with the retreating Southerners.30

  Wood’s Twenty-first Brigade, under Colonel George Wagner, marched swiftly across the battlefield but failed to make contact. Colonel Cyrus Hines, Fifty-seventh Indiana, was detached from the brigade and sent to support Hurlbut’s Fourth Division. The regiment loaded its muskets, fixed bayonets, and charged the retiring Confederates. Small arms fire peppered the regiment, wounding four men, and several Confederate artillery rounds passed overhead, but the Indianans were able to round up some forty stragglers, including a chaplain.31

  Confederate batteries unlimbered around Shiloh Church continued pouring a noisy fusillade in the general direction of the Union arms to keep up the illusion that the main Confederate force was still present and in action. Gun crews poured rounds at the Federals in an extravagant and spectacular display of destructiveness. The Federals made no attempt to overwhelm the rear guard force, however, and around 3:30 p.m. the last of the guns were hitched up and hauled off down the long road toward Corinth. Except for a few scattered shots between Confederate stragglers and a few zealous Union skirmishers, the battle of Shiloh had ended.32

  There was no pursuit. Why did Grant remain quietly on the battlefield instead of leading his men after the battered Confederates? His actions have never adequately been explained. In his Memoirs, Grant claimed that he did not have the “heart to order the men who had fought desperately for two days” to pursue, and that he did not order Buell to, since they were so nearly the same in seniority.33

  Grant’s argument remains a little shaky. As an old regular army officer, Grant knew full well that his few weeks army seniority did give him command on the field. This was standard army procedure, and Buell, as another army officer, knew it also. Buell maintained that Grant and his army did not want to pursue, and that he did not want to make such an effort on his own authority.34

  Certainly the ultimate responsibility rested on Grant. Perhaps Sherman summed the matter up best in a conversation some years later after the war. When asked why Beauregard was not pursued, he replied, “I assure you, my dear fellow, we had had quite enough of their society for two whole days, and were only too glad to be rid of them on any terms.”35

  If Grant had pursued, the Confederates would have been in trouble for the march to Corinth quickly devolved into a nightmare. The roads were clogged as the retreating host wound out in a jerky line seven or eight miles long. The crude country roads were already in bad condition from the march to Shiloh, and the additional rain that fell Saturday and Sunday night made them nearly impassable. Soldiers often sank nearly to their knees in the mud; wagons and guns were engulfed up to their axles. Cursing and sweating, the hungry teamsters lashed their mules and horses, trying to move with their cargos of supplies and wounded.

  Only the worst shot-up Southerners were accorded a crude bed in the ambulances, country wagons, and carts. When these were all filled, some of the more mangled men were loaded on stretchers and carried the twenty-two miles by hand. Men with smashed eyes, deafened ears, and mangled arms trudged through the mud along with the weary but unwounded soldiers. Everything was in a state of turmoil. Each time a wagon hit a rut, the delirious wounded groaned and screamed in agony.

  About 6:30 p.m. it started to rain, and soon the temperature began dropping. The rain turned into hail, and marble-sized balls lacerated and bruised the pitifully tired, animals and soldiers alike. Most of the wounded did not even have a blanket to protect them from the barrage in their open vehicles. Many of the unwounded were in almost as bad shape. The exertions of the battle and the privations of the past five days had materially weakened them. Each step was harder than the last, for many of the men had badly blistered feet inside soggy and cracked shoes.36

  Breckinridge halted his command at Mickey’s to see what would turn up, while the rest of the Southern army tramped onward into Corinth, dumping out along the route three hundred wounded who had died.37

  As the first wounded reached the little Mississippi town, the whole place was converted into a gigantic hospital. Churches, homes, schools, and every other conceivable structure was taken over for the mangled men, while hundreds had to be placed out on porches, sidewalks, and platforms at the railroad depot. There were not enough doctors and nurses to go around, and available medical supplies were inadequate to meet the demand. Soon the doctors were busy sawing off mangled and torn arms and legs, limbs hopelessly smashed by Minie balls or shell fragments. With their crude nineteenth century medical skill, surgeons could do little but amputate. Weakened by their ordeal, many of the soldiers could not stand the shock of amputation, and many expired within a few hours. Tetanus stalked through Corinth, while the faint sickening smell of gangrene was vividly detected on many of the Rebel soldiers.38

  Twenty-two miles away the Union army faced a similar medical crisis. Only regimental medical units were available to care for their wounded, and these were quickly overtaxed by the sheer volume of the task. Even before the fighting ceased, volunteer nurses, male and female, labored with the wounded, applying temporary bandages. Ambulances carried hundreds to emergency tent hospitals or to the few permanent structures available, but on Tuesday the majority still lay where they had fallen, pitifully crying for succor.

  People passing by the medical centers were often sickened by the sounds and odors. Amputated limbs lay in large piles unburied, while there was the sweet smell of blood everywhere. Grant telegraphed for emergency medical aid, and a number of transports were soon busy evacuating thousands of soldiers to Northern cities.

  One of Buell’s surgeons, B. J. D. Irwin, worked medical miracles on the bloody battlefield. Working at least twenty hours a day, he constructed a modern field hospital composed of commandeered army tents capable of housing two thousand five hundred soldiers. The patients were segregated according to their ailments, while the medical staff was assigned specialized functions. Irwin organized a central administration to handle food, drugs, laundry, and admitt
ance—a streamlined method of hospital administration far in advance of existing practices.39

  One of the wounded collected off the battlefield on Monday was General W. H. L. Wallace. He was found about 10:00 a.m. by Federal soldiers. He was cold and soaked through and through from the night’s dampness. Stretcher bearers quickly carried him to the Landing, from where he was taken to Savannah. Cyrus Dickey, brother-in-law of Wallace, went on board the Minnehaha to tell his sister, Ann, that her husband was alive but mortally wounded.

  Mrs. Wallace soon reached Savannah to find her husband on a cot in the Cherry House. Ann spoke to her unconscious spouse, who promptly awoke and clasped her hand. The chances for his survival were not good, but he seemed to rally and his pulse was strong and healthy. Such was his condition on Tuesday and Wednesday that Ann and the rest of the family thought he might live. But on Thursday, he became feverish and his pulse began to drop. Wallace was frequently conscious, and was able to carry on short conversations, but he seemed to realize that he could not survive. He touched his wife and said, “We meet in heaven.” Soon his pulse dropped. He slipped into unconsciousness and passed away later in the day, apparently without any pain.40

  Tuesday morning found General Breckinridge’s jaded command covering the Confederate retreat with a force of about three hundred and fifty cavalry under Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest out on patrol. The Confederate cavalry was reconnoitering behind the retiring Southerners when they observed Union cavalry and infantry moving toward them. It was General Sherman with a reconnaissance force of two of his infantry brigades and the Fourth Illinois Cavalry under T. Lyle Dickey, father-in-law of W. H. L. Wallace. Sherman deployed two companies of the Seventy-seventh Ohio out in front as skirmishers, while about two hundred yards behind rode the cavalry. Forrest took the situation in at a glance, and decided to charge.

  Screaming like wild men, the Southerners spurred their horses forward. Sherman’s skirmishers took one look at the oncoming Rebels and headed for the rear. The Confederate troopers smashed into the Fourth Illinois Cavalry, driving it back in confusion on the main body of infantry. The Southerners paused for a moment to reload and then attacked again. Bursts of buckshot spattered the Ohio infantry, killing and mangling many officers and men and throwing the soldiers into disorder. Their shotguns empty, Forrest and his men drew their revolvers and spurred their mounts into the Bluecoats, raking the hapless infantry with .44 caliber balls. When their guns were emptied, the Confederates pulled their sabers and began slashing. Troopers who lacked blades clubbed their guns. The Ohioans had had enough and pulled back on their Second Brigade, which was waiting with fixed bayonets and loaded rifles.41

  As the Confederates spotted the Second Brigade, they began reining in their mounts. Unfortunately Forrest was either carried away with the excitement of the affair or by a spirited horse that galloped right on into the new enemy force. The Ohioans quickly rushed at him from all sides, screaming, “Shoot that man! Knock him off his horse!” The Federals were so numerous that they tripped over each other. This was probably the only thing that saved Forrest from being killed or dragged off his mount. The Confederate colonel blazed away with his revolver in one hand and hacked with his saber in the other. His horse was shot twice, and bullets whined about the rider’s head. Finally one Ohioan shoved his musket barrel against Forrest’s left side and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered just above the hip, tearing through his back muscles before lodging against his spine. Shaken by the blow, the colonel almost slipped from his saddle; but he quickly steadied himself and with a supreme effort, fought his way out, evading the clutching hands and menacing gun barrels. Although bleeding badly, he rounded up his troopers and the plunder, as well as their prisoners, and executed a withdrawal toward Mickey’s.42 Sherman did not attempt any kind of pursuit.

  Reported Confederate losses in the action at Fallen Timbers were at least two killed and nine or ten wounded. Since most of the companies involved did not turn in casualty reports, the actual figures for the Confederates were probably two or three times higher. Sherman did not officially report his losses, but in his report of the action, he mentioned seeing fifteen of his soldiers on the ground and twenty-five others lying around wounded. Terry’s Texas Rangers, of Forrest’s command, bagged forty-three prisoners, and the other Confederate units undoubtedly took a few. A check of the casualty returns for the Federal units involved in the action indicates Federal losses for the action were not far short of two hundred.43 This encounter ended the Shiloh campaign.

  The Confederate army had inflicted great losses in men and material on the enemy, but had failed to score a decisive victory. Sunday, April 6, was a clear-cut Confederate victory, while Monday was tactically a drawn action. But if the Southern army achieved a tactical success, they suffered a major strategic defeat. The Union army was now united at Pittsburg, and the Confederacy could ill spare its losses on Shiloh field. Beauregard listed the official Confederate losses at 10,699, comprising 1,728 dead, 8,012 wounded, and 959 missing or captured. Actually true Confederate losses were much higher, probably running close to twelve thousand. The discrepancy in casualties was caused by the usual poor Confederate bookkeeping system and by the mortality rate of Confederate officers. In many cases accurate accounts of losses in individual Southern units were not made until weeks after Beauregard turned in his report.44

  Official Union casualty returns show that Grant’s army lost 1,513 killed, 6,601 wounded and 2,330 missing or captured, the latter occurring mostly in W. H. L. Wallace’s and Prentiss’ divisions. Buell’s losses were officially listed as 241 dead, 1,807 wounded and 55 missing or captured, for a total of 13,047 casualties for both Union armies. Again poor bookkeeping and murderous officer losses concealed the true picture. Later casualty figures of the individual Union batteries and regiments indicate that most units suffered ten to twenty per cent higher losses than originally reported. Buell’s figures seem to be very nearly correct, the discrepancies occurring in Grant’s battered commands. Actual Union losses probably ran around 14,500 casualties. It was the first great battle of the Civil War, and up to that time the mightiest struggle ever to take place in the Americas.

  Shiloh is one of the most “iffy” battles of the entire Civil War. The possibilities of the battle have fascinated generations of writers.

  What would have happened if the Confederates had launched their attack on April 4 or even the following day?

  What if Peabody had not sent out his pre-dawn patrol on the 6th?

  What if W. H. L. Wallace had not reinforced the Union left?

  If the Confederates had concentrated their forces against the Union left, would they have shattered the Federal line and captured Pittsburg Landing?

  It is impossible to predict the might-have-beens of the battle, but a change in any of these or a wide variety of other factors could have changed the entire direction of the battle.

  More ink was shed over Shiloh than any previous battle fought in the Western hemisphere. Altogether, participants turned in 229 official reports, encompassing 529 pages, plus at least three thousand pages of published unofficial materials.

  Ink and blood alike, it was truly a magnificent spectacle.

  Chapter 16

  Corinth

  ON TUESDAY MORNING THE area around Shiloh looked as though a series of massive cyclones had swept over it. There were wrecked wagons, caissons, and field pieces strewn everywhere, while the vile odor of decaying flesh of thousands of horses and men poisoned the atmosphere. Young trees lay sprawled awkwardly on the ground, shot down by cannon balls or sawed through by the repeated impact of slugs. Canteens, bayonets, broken rifles, harnesses, bits of clothing, and a thousand other articles of military material littered the landscape.

  Here and there Union stretcher bearers picked up wounded Federals and Confederates, some weakened by two nights of exposure on the battlefield. It would be Friday or perhaps even Saturday before the last battered body, still retaining a tiny spark of life, would be re
moved and carried to a field hospital.

  Burial details were quickly assembled to dispose of all the corrupted flesh as a sanitary measure. The dead horses were piled in huge mounds, doused with kerosene, and ignited. The burning smell of animal flesh spread over much of the Federal camp area, much to the soldiers’ distaste. Working with picks and shovels, the Federals soon cleared out burial pits roughly forty feet long by six feet wide and three feet in depth. The dead were disposed of in these shallow cavities.

  Most of the Confederates were buried in as many as nine even larger pits, 721 bodies being planted in the last and deepest of these. Soldiers hitched ropes to the feet or hands and arms of the Rebel bodies and dragged them down to the waiting holes, where they were quickly pushed in. When the burial pits were full, Union soldiers walked along the edges, kicking and stomping at the jutting arms and legs, making them fit inside properly. Then the shovels were used to cover the holes with thin layers of Tennessee soil. It was a brutal, sickening job even for the most callous of men. By Thursday after the battle, all but a few stray bodies lay beneath the sod.1

  Most of the Union soldiers at Pittsburg were in rather sorry shape. Buell’s men had left their regimental wagons, containing their tents and other vital equipment, on the road to Savannah. Many of the soldiers in his regiments had also dropped their packs at or near Savannah. Until the wagons and knap sacks could be retrieved, most of the men of the Army of the Ohio had nothing but their weapons and the uniforms on their backs.