The following well known lines, commemorative of British valor, at the Crimea, might be very appropriately applied to Corse's soldiers, whose persistent zeal, sublime courage, and impetuous heroism, plucked victory from the banners of the South, in this desperate battle.
"Forward! the Light Brigade!
No man was there dismayed,
Not, though the soldier knew
Some one had blundered;
Theirs, not to make reply,
Theirs, not to reason why,
Theirs, but to do and die;
Into the valley of death
Rode the the six hundred.
"Cannon to the right of them,
Gannon to the left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they charged, and well —
Into the jaws of death
Rode the six hundred."
At twelve o'clock, the battle raged. Never was an engagement so severely disputed. But the persistent courage of Corse's matchless troops was soon to reap a victory. "We must conquer or perish," cried the patriot chief. A deadly vengeance steadied every musket; one more splendid charge and the rebel troops were in confusion and despair. French ordered his bugler to sound a retreat. The total Union loss was five hundred and twenty-three killed and wounded, and one hundred missing. The enemy's loss was six hundred killed and wounded, and two hundred prisoners, including one field and several line officers. The rebel dead and wounded were left in our hands. None of the stores, amounting to more than one million rations, were destroyed
SKETCH OF GENERAL CORSE.
Among those who have fought for the American Union, the gallant State of Iowa has furnished no braver or truer patriot, than the gifted soldier whose name is known throughout the land, as the "Victor of Alatoona." General Corse is a citizen of Iowa, where he was engaged in the law business when the war broke out. He spent some time at West Point. Here he acquired the knowledge of military science, which showed itself so conspicuously afterwards. He entered the service as Major in an Iowa regiment, and was afterwards placed on General Pope's staff, as Inspector General. He was in the siege of Corinth, taking an active part in the campaign. He accompanied Sherman in his expedition through Mississippi, in the fight at Jackson he had command of the skirmishers. By his skill and bravery in this engagement, he proved his competency for a higher command, and was recommended for and received a brigadiership. He was with Sherman in the Mission Ridge battle; having the advance in the attack, he handled his troops skillfully, receiving a severe wound, which disqualified him for active service for several weeks. He subsequently served as Inspector General on General Sherman's staff for a short time, and was subsequently appointed to the command of the Fourth Division, Fifteenth Army Corps.
General Corse seems to be about thirty years of age, is of low stature, finely built. He is not taller than the late Senator Douglas, though not as broad and corpulent. He has a good, steady, penetrating eye, indicative of great self-possession and courage. There is nothing whatever in his manner, appearance, or actions that would indicate that he considers himself superior to the humblest soldier in the ranks. In the march through the Carolinas, General Corse was always at his post, inspiring the troops by his bravery in battle. Colonel Tourtellote and all the officers and men of his command behaved splendidly, their conduct was worthy of all praise, and would have done honor to the bravest veteran of Napoleon.
And shall we not glance at the unnamed martyr heroes who fell in the dismal trenches in the defense of the Republic? Their sublime heroism will be applauded by all future ages, as eclipsing the renowned deeds of a Quintius, a Curtius or a Decius. It has been truly observed that the departure of the millions of mediocrity is a matter of not much concern to us, individually or collectively. The innumerable indifferent pass away without a sigh of solicitude, or a second thought of the tender ties severed. The worthiest citizen, the wisest counsellor, the best of husbands, of fathers, of brothers, the brightest beauties, age, youth, golden-haired children depart unmourned. On the contrary, if their souls have been filled with patriotism, the best and truest natures in the Republic will mourn for them, the flag will float at half-mast, the streets of the city will echo to the tread of thousands, who commit their spirits to the hands of God, to the dwellers of the other worlds, with honor, with triumph, with benediction. The train of mourners for the dead champions of Alatoona Pass extend beyond the range of our vision. Their fame is the property of the country, around whose brow they have bound fillets of laurel immortelles that their descendants might feel proud of. In the cabins, close by the woods, in the cottages beneath the hills, their memory shall remain green, be remembered, be spoken of proudly, grandly. The slain heroes of this fight, were true soldiers, true Americans, true patriots, they walked up to the citadels of death with a calmness, a grand enthusiasm, that good men feel in a good cause.
This is an impartial, and we believe, accurate account of the battle of Alatoona. For the time it lasted it was short, sharp, bloody and decisive. The attack was made by French's Veteran Division, of Stewart's Corps. It numbered seven thousand.
The inhabitants of these parts are very illiterate, the most abject specimens of humanity we have ever seen. They voted for secession because the slaveholders did so; they gave as a reason for enlisting in the rebel army, that they were compelled to do it by the rich planters. If you ask them how far it is to the next town, they generally answer: "I don't know; I haven’t got any larnin," or "I havn't any edication." The following love-letters, picked up by some of our soldiers, afford a correct idea of the deplorable ignorance of these unhappy people:
"i fele rite bad dear dik,
my hart feels like tu bust;
i hev cride till i'm ni on tu sik,
i luv you last last I luv yu fust.
i pra fur you untu every nite,
that god will kepo yu wel,
and help yu tu fite fur rite,
and cend the yanks tu hel.
i hope yu will sune com back tu me,
it wud cure mi every pane
tu hav yu when our land is free,
in the arms uv yure luvin
JAKE."
The next epistle is very devotional, and would do credit to the lovely "Widow Wilkins:"
"'Tis hard fur yu'ens tu live in camps,
'Tis hard fur yu'ens tu fite the Yanks,
'Tis hard fur yu'ens and we'ens tu part,
But yu'ens all kno yu'ens got we'ens harts."
Wherever slavery exists, we find the same detestable ignorance, the same degradation and stolidity, the same dullness and opacity of understanding, the same disinclination and feebleness as to all the nobler employments of the mind; the same proneness and attachment to the mere sensual pursuits; habitual desires after mere animal indulgence. And thus the curse of slavery plucks the crown from the head, and strips the soul of its beams of glory, and sinks it to a lower and vulgar abyss, where it lies in the utter wreck of its nobility and perfection.
CHAPTER XVI.
The Great March — The Movements of Howard's Column — The Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps — A Description or the Country through which we marched — The Poor Whites and the Negroes — How Sherman's Soldiers Fared — They Lived Sumptuously — Battle of Fort McAllister — A Glance at the Fort — Strength of the Rebels — The Battle Commences — The Rebels Fight Bravely — A Fruitless Struggle — Severe Engagement — Heroism of the different Corps — The Decisive Charge — Wounded Foes — Genuine Intrepidity — The First to Bring News to Sherman — The Grandeur and Results of the March through Georgia — What the London Times says of it.
A wonderful march has been made, and most substantial successes achieved. This great and unexampled expedition has added another laurel to the brilliant record of the armies of the Military Division of the Mississippi, and justified the hopes of its most ardent friends. The conception and executi
on of this stupendous military movement is the crowning glory of Sherman's brilliant career, and places his name high on the roll of fame, as the most consummate General of the nation. The immense army is composed of the following Corps: the 14th, 15th, 17th, and 20th, commanded severally by Gens. Davis, Osterhaus, Blair, and Slocum—the whole Corps D'Armee under the immediate supervision of Gen. Sherman.
By way of recapitulation as to the peregrinations of our Corps, (the 15th): It left Marietta to the inspiring music of Hail Columbia. Bivouacked for a night at Atlanta. What American has not heard of Atlanta? and who does not feel his pulse beat high, his brow elevate, and his soul expand with conscious pride and exultation at the recollection of the glorious struggles which took place in front of this renowned city, when, after desperate battles the gallant army of patriots drove back the fierce legions of Hood? Atlanta is built on an elevated position, and is surrounded by splendid fortifications. In other years its wide streets and scattered residences, in and around the city, with its ample yards and gardens, adorned with choicest flowers and shrubbery, gave it a most attractive appearance. Perhaps there was no city in the South of the same population that affords so many evidences of wealth. Here are luxurious homes, now the scenes of no domestic joys; stately warehouses, where no wealthy merchants congregate; beautiful temples where resound no more the organ's swell or the notes of praise. All is solemnly desolate. The destruction caused by bombardment was great. Whole buildings were shattered by artillery. Clouds of smoke, as we passed through, were bursting from several princely mansions. Every house of importance was burned on Whitehall Street. Railroad depots, rebel factories, foundries and mills were destroyed. This is the penalty of rebellion. Heaven and earth both agree in decreeing a terrible punishment to those perfidious wretches who concocted this wasting and desolating war.
There is one spot of sacred interest, the cemetery, a lovely city of the dead, Ay! These cemeteries are at last, earth’s great cities! This is one of the sweetest spots of the kind, we ever visited. Here nature has her trees, her verdant slopes. Art has added beauty to the already beautiful walks of nature. Ah! How many brave sons of the Union sleep here? Here they lie, in every possible position —
"They sleep their last sleep!
They have fought their last battle!
No sound can awake them to glory again."
And so, with sorrow and pity, we pass the Gate City, breathing a prayer that the All-powerful will grant forgiveness to the miserable ingrates, whose love of slavery inaugurated this terrible rebellion. Once more the march. We adapt ourselves to circumstances, our baggage consisting of a towel, a cracker, a Testament, and a late Southern paper, announcing Sherman's retreat from Hood.
A change of linen is a superfluity, but hard-tack is indispensable. Thrice happy are ye, if ye have suspended from your shoulder a canteen of water. Well, then, we are ready. Monsieur le General, we follow yon cheerfully, calmly. When a few miles from Atlanta we entered a sandy, sterile country. Every few miles we pass an occasional fine house. The face of the country is flat until near Jonesboro, a thriving town before the war of four thousand inhabitants. Here Kilpatrick, the wizard of the saddle, had a sharp skirmish with the enemy. In the solemn starlight we could see the billows of smoke rolling up from the city of Atlanta. Such clouds of smoke, and vast sheets of flame, mortal eve has seldom seen. The whole region for miles was lighted up with a strange and indescribable glare.
Second Day. — marched sixteen miles, reaching camp earlier than the preceding night. The weather was mild and serene. As the vast army of liberation moved on with streaming banners and bright guns, to the strains of music, the sight was truly inspiring. We passed through a tolerable farming country, with ridges on either side. Portions of it are almost entirely uncultivated, and covered with thick growth of chestnut and small oak trees. McDonough, the seat of justice for Henry County, is contemptibly small and wretched.
Third Day. — Passing McDonough, we came into a level and well cultivated section. An order issued for the troops to forage. This was good news for the boys. We are now in Butler County, a county that has furnished over two thousand soldiers to the rebellion. The poor people looked surprised and begged us not to touch their scanty commissariat. Sherman's order was to forage liberally off the rich, and it was rigidly observed.
Fourth Day. — This morning the wearied troops were aroused by the bugle from their sweet repose. This portion of the country is one of the best sections we have found. The soil is one of great fertility— the surface gently undulating; Jackson is the county seat. It has been a neat and elegant town. The country around it, is one delightful, wide-spreading plain, studded with an occasional rich planter's residence.
Fifth Day. — marched fourteen miles to Hillsborough. Here we saw a primitive simplicity of manners, and a homely rusticity of customs. The houses along the road are like angels' visits, few and far between. In all this country no trace of improvement is visible, save in one solitary place, might be seen the smoke rising from the field of some poor dweller in the swamps.
Sixth Day. — Sunday— what a crowd of thought suggested by this holy day—
“A day so calm, so bright, so fair,
The bride of the earth and sky.”
How different is its observance here and at home! In camp, the rumbling of wagons, the quick, sharp ring of the rifle, the martial music, and the usual profanity.
At home, the touchingly beautiful sound of the church bell, the solemn worship of the church, and the consecrated scenes of the domestic altar.
Seventh Day. — Reached Clinton, a town eighteen miles from Macon. The situation of Clinton is that of calm, quiet, peaceful solitude, embowered by trees, which add by their shade a degree of beauty and repose to the scene. The country round it presents a very fine aspect, being well cultivated and ornamented. A little hill, standing to the westward of the town, commands a pleasing view of a rich and cultivated valley. The farm houses are neat.
The squalid, poverty and extreme misery apparent elsewhere and so irksome to a benevolent mind, does not exist here. We passed the Church where Stoneman was captured. The citizens relate some singular tales in relation to this disgraceful affair.
Eighth Day. — The music of Kilpatrick's cannon, the tamp of his steeds precedes us, and rings through the gorges of the passes and the hills. Kilpatrick successful in his movement, fights a battle with Wheeler, is victorious, and moves in the direction of the capital of the State. Milledgeville captured.
Ninth Day. — Again we hear the roar of artillery. The rebels had been found at Griswold, a station on the railroad a few miles from Macon. Here we suffered a loss of a hundred killed and wounded. The Confederates numbered five thousand under General Phillip. Our Cavalry behaved with distinguished gallantry.
Tenth Day. — At five o'clock this morning the drum beat. The reveille started all from their slumbers. It was a sharp cold wintry day. Overcoats and blankets are in demand. Marched seventeen miles to Gordon, a small, desolate place on the Central Georgia railroad. Here we remained for several days, destroying the railroad and waiting the co-operation of the different Corps. The day of Thanksgiving was observed at this place. A sermon, commemorative of National victories was pronounced. Strange, that in the very heart of the Confederacy such services should be held. Stranger still, that an abolition sermon should be preached. O tempora y mores. Thank God, the great and guilty system of slavery is extinguished forever.
After a few days repose, the march is resumed. The next item of interest is the crossing of the Ocmulgee River. This is a famous stream. Macon, the city of palaces, is built on it. The scene at Seven Islands, where the army crossed, was profoundly imposing. The serried columns of Howard's brave corps marched to the river's edge in splendid style, their burnished arms reflecting the sunlight. The enchanting strains of music, the radiant patriotism that shone from the bronzed faces of the troops — the surrounding forests — the presence of the one-armed. General inspiring the soldiers with a
portion of his own chivalrous nature— and the serene loveliness of a cloudless sky, furnished a panorama of beauty and grandeur not often seen. Seven Islands, derives its specialty from its large factory, where hundreds of young women were engaged in the manufacture of rebel uniforms. The people in this section are horribly ignorant. The poor whites are the most illiterate and depraved creatures I ever saw mentally and morally. I don't remember of ever having seen their equal. Their conception of God, of redemption, and of this war, are heathenish. In the small town of Irwington, there was a family who were so ignorant that they could not tell their ages. Captain Hill of the Eightieth Ohio, tells me that he conversed with an old woman of seventy years, who could not tell the ages of her children. She had never seen a shirt-collar. I talked with a family from North Carolina, who never saw a church, never heard a sermon, and had never heard of the Redeemer. The country is comparatively barren, and little inhabited. Edmund Kirke, in his work entitled "Down in Tennessee," avers, that the ignorance of the poor whites in the South is not so deep-seated and universal as that of the Irish and Dutch. I must express my surprise and indignation at such an avowal. I have seen the poorest, the most degraded subjects of Europe, and I must pronounce them superior to the imbecile looking creatures who eke out a miserable existence in the oanebrakes of the Cotton States.
Who has not heard of the immense pine forests of Georgia? For days we march through groves of lofty pines. To the lovers of the forest such sights are superbly beautiful. The altitude of these pines, taken in connection with their vast extent, has a very pleasing effect, giving to the open ranges that break the general regularity of vision, an appearance that is beautiful and majestic.
The roads are bad, execrable; swamps, creeks, and pathless marshes have to be bridged and crossed. If roads and mules could speak, what a willing testimony they would bear to the patience of that much race, teamsters. One remarks that they never visit chaplains, and it is too true that chaplains seldom, if ever, visit them. We are now at the Ogeechee. The Ogeechee River is one of the largest in the State. It, flows in a broad and majestic volume to the sea. Several beautiful villages and extensive rice plantations adorn its margin. We cannot but feel astonishment at the little benefit produced to Georgia by the eminent advantages of this noble river, where a bounteous providence has scattered blessings with so liberal a hand. Where nature has done so much, and man so little. We crossed the river on pontoons. We are fifteen miles from Savannah. The Third division, commanded by General John E. Smith, is ordered to advance towards the city, on the Canal road. Early in the day, the enemy opened with cannonading. The roar of artillery sent an electric thrill through the eager host. The hardy battalions of Smith advanced within a hundred yards of the rebel batteries, when a brief and spirited conflict ensued. In this engagement our loss was small. The bullets fell thick and last around the Second Brigade, the gallant General Raum having a narrow escape.
Personal Recollections of Sherman's Campaigns in Georgia and the Carolinas Page 23