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The Guns of Shiloh

J >> Joseph A. Altsheler >> The Guns of Shiloh




The Kentucky regiment was wedged in between the battery and a brigade,
and it was gasping for breath. Colonel Winchester, slightly wounded
in three places, commanded his men to lie down, and they gladly threw
themselves upon the earth.

There was a momentary lull in the battle. Wandering winds caught up the
banks of smoke and carried most of them away. Dick, as he rose a little,
saw the Southern troops massing in the forest for an attack upon their
new position. They seemed to be only a few yards away and he clearly
observed the officers walking along the front of the lines. It flashed
upon him that they must hold these hills or Grant's army would perish.
Where was Buell? Why did he not come? If the Southerners destroyed one
Northern army today they would destroy another tomorrow! They would
break the two halves of the Union force in the west into pieces, first
one and then the other.

"What do you see, Dick?" asked Warner, who was lying almost flat upon
his face.

"The Confederate army is getting ready to wipe us off the face of the
earth! Up with your rifle, George! They'll be upon us in two minutes!"

They heard a sudden shout behind them. It was a glad shout, and well it
might be. Nelson, held back by Buell's orders, had listened long to the
booming of the cannon off in the direction of Shiloh. Nothing could
convince him that a great battle was not going on, and all through the
morning he chafed and raged. And as the sound of the cannon grew louder
he believed that Grant's army was losing.

Nelson obtained Buell's leave at last to march for Shiloh, but it was a
long road across hills and creeks and through swamps. The cannon sank
deep in the mire, and then the ardent Nelson left them behind. Now he
knew there was great need for haste. The flashing and thundering in
front of them showed to the youngest soldier in his command that a
great battle was in progress, and that it was going against the North.
His division at last reached Pittsburg Landing and was carried across
the river in the steamers. One brigade led by Ammen outstripped the
rest, and rushed in behind the great battery and to its support, just
as the Southern bugles once more sounded the charge.

Dick shouted with joy, too, when he saw the new troops. The next moment
the enemy was upon them, charging directly through a frightful discharge
from the great guns. The riddled regiments, which had fought so long,
gave way before the bayonets, but the fresh troops took their places and
poured a terrible fire into the assaulting columns. And the great guns
of the battery hurled a new storm of shell and solid shot. The ranks
of the Southern troops, worn by a full day of desperate fighting, were
broken. They had crossed the ravine into the very mouths of the
Northern guns, but now they were driven back into the ravine and across
it. Cannon and rifles rained missiles upon them there, and they
withdrew into the woods, while for the first time in all that long day
a shout of triumph rose from the Union lines.

Another lull came in the battle.

"What are they doing now, Dick?" asked the Vermonter.

"I can't see very well, but they seem to be gathering in the forest for
a fresh attack. Do you know, George, that the sun is almost down?"

"It's certainly time. It's been at least a month since the Johnnies ran
out of the forest in the dawn, and jumped on us."

It was true that the day was almost over, although but few had noticed
the fact. The east was already darkening, and a rosy glow from the west
fell across the torn forest. Here and there a dead tree, set on fire by
the shells, burned slowly, little flames creeping along trunk and boughs.

Bragg was preparing to hurl his entire force upon Sherman and the
battery. At that moment Beauregard, now his chief, arrived. But a few
minutes of daylight were left and the swarthy Louisianian looked at the
great losses in his own ranks. He believed that the army of Buell was
so far away that it could not arrive that night and he withheld the
charge.

The Southern army withdrew a little into the woods, the night rushed
down, and Shiloh's terrible first day was over.




CHAPTER XVI

THE FIERCE FINISH OF SHILOH


Dick, who had been lying under cover just behind the crest of one of the
low ridges, suddenly heard the loud beating of his heart. He did not
know, for a moment or two, that the sound came so distinctly because
the mighty tumult which had been raging around him all day had ceased,
as if by a concerted signal. Those blinding flashes of flame no longer
came from the forest before him, the shot and shell quit their horrible
screaming, and the air was free from the unpleasant hiss of countless
bullets.

He stretched himself a little and stood up. The lads all around him
were standing up, and were beginning to talk to each other in the
high-pitched, shouting voices that they had been compelled to use all
day long, not yet realizing to the full that the tumult of the battle
had ceased. The boy felt stiff and sore in every bone and muscle, and,
although the cannon and rifles were silent, there was still a hollow
roaring in his ears. His eyes were yet dim from the smoke, and his head
felt heavy and dull. He gazed vacantly at the forest in front of him,
and wondered dimly why the Southern army was not still there, attacking,
as it had attacked for so many hours.

But the deep woods were silent and empty. Coils and streamers of smoke
floated about among the trees, and suddenly a gray squirrel hopped out
on a bough and began to chatter wildly. Dick, despite himself, laughed,
but the laugh was hysterical. He could appreciate the feelings of the
squirrel, which probably had been imprisoned in a hollow of the tree all
day long, listening to this tremendous battle, and squirrels were not
used to such battles. It was a trifle that made him laugh, but
everything was out of proportion now. Life did not go on in the usual
way at all. The ordinary occupations were gone, and people spent most
of their time trying to kill one another.

He rubbed his hands across his eyes and cleared them of the smoke.
The battle was certainly over for the day at least, and neither he
nor his comrades had sufficient vitality yet to think of the morrow.
The twilight was fast deepening into night. The last rosy glow of the
sun faded, and thick darkness enveloped the vast forest, in which twenty
thousand men had fallen, and in which most of them yet lay, the wounded
with the dead.

There was presently a deep boom from the river, and a shell fired by one
of the gunboats curved far over their heads and dropped into the forest,
where the Southern army was encamped. All through the night and at
short but regular intervals the gunboats maintained this warning fire,
heartening the Union soldiers, and telling them at every discharge that
however they might have to fight for the land, the water was always
theirs.

Dick saw Colonel Winchester going among his men, and pulling himself
together he saluted his chief.

"Any orders, sir?" he said.

"No, Dick, my boy, none for the present," replied the colonel, a little
sadly. "Half of my poor regiment is killed or wounded, and the rest
are so exhausted that they are barely able to move. But they fought
magnificently, Dick! They had to, or be crushed! It is only here that
we have withstood the rush of the Southern army, and it is probable that
we, too, would have gone had not night come to our help."

"Then we have been beaten?"

"Yes, Dick, we have been beaten, and beaten badly. It was the surprise
that did it. How on earth we could have let the Southern army creep
upon us and strike unaware I don't understand. But Dick, my boy,
there will be another battle tomorrow, and it may tell a different tale.
Some prisoners whom we have taken say that Johnston has been killed,
and Beauregard is no such leader as he."

"Will the army of General Buell reach us tonight?"

"Buell, himself, is here. He has been with Grant for some time, and
all his brigades are marching at the double quick. Lew Wallace arrived
less than half an hour ago with seven thousand men fresh and eager for
battle. Dick! Dick, my boy, we'll have forty thousand new troops on
the field at the next dawn, and before God we'll wipe out the disgrace
of today! Listen to the big guns from the boats as they speak at
intervals! Why, I can understand the very words they speak! They are
saying to the Southern army: 'Look out! Look out! We're coming in the
morning, and it's we who'll attack now!'"

Dick saw that Colonel Winchester himself was excited. The pupils of his
eyes were dilated, and a red spot glowed in either cheek. Like all the
other officers he was stung by the surprise and defeat, and he could
barely wait for the morning and revenge.

Colonel Winchester walked away to a council that had been called,
and Dick turned to Pennington and Warner, who were not hurt, save for
slight wounds. Warner had recovered his poise, and was soon as calm
and dry as ever.

"Dick," he said, "we're some distance from where we started this
morning. There's nothing like being shoved along when you don't want to
go. The next time they tell me there's nothing in a thicket I expect to
search it and find a rebel army at least a hundred thousand strong right
in the middle of it."

"How large do you suppose the Southern army was?" asked Pennington.

"I had a number of looks at it," replied Warner, "and I should say from
the way it acted that it numbered at least three million men. I know
that at times not less than ten thousand were aiming their rifles at my
own poor and unworthy person. What a waste of energy for so many men to
shoot at me all at once. I wish the Johnnies would go away and let us
alone!"

The last words were high-pitched and excited. His habitual self-control
broke down for a moment, and the tremendous excitement and nervous
tension of the day found vent in his voice. But in a few seconds he
recovered himself and looked rather ashamed.

"Boys," he said, "I apologize."

"You needn't," said Pennington. "There have been times today when I
felt brave as a lion, and lots of other times I was scared most to
death. It would have helped me a lot then, if I could have opened my
mouth and yelled at the top of my voice."

Sergeant Daniel Whitley was leaning against a stump, and while he was
calmly lighting a pipe he regarded the three boys with a benevolent gaze.

"None of you need be ashamed of bein' scared," he said. "I've been in a
lot of fights myself, though all of them were mere skirmishes when put
alongside of this, an' I've been scared a heap today. I've been scared
for myself, an' I've been scared for the regiment, an' I've been scared
for the whole army, an' I've been scared on general principles, but here
we are, alive an' kickin', an' we ought to feel powerful thankful for
that."

"We are," said Dick. Then he rubbed his head as if some sudden thought
had occurred to him.

"What is it, Dick?" asked Warner.

"I've realized all at once that I'm tremendously hungry. The
Confederates broke up our breakfast. We never had time to think of
dinner, and now its nothing to eat."

"Me, too," said Pennington. "If you were to hit me in the stomach I'd
give back a hollow sound like a drum. Why don't somebody ring the
supper bell?"

But fires were soon lighted along their whole front, and provisions were
brought up from the rear and from the steamers. The soldiers, feeling
their strength returning, ate ravenously. They also talked much of
the battle. Many of them were yet under the influence of hysterical
excitement. They told extraordinary stories of the things they had seen
and done, and they believed all they told were true. They ate fiercely,
at first almost like wolves, but after a while they resolved into their
true state as amiable young human beings and were ashamed of themselves.

All the while Buell's army of the Ohio was passing over the river and
joining Grant's army of the Tennessee. Regiment after regiment and
brigade after brigade crossed. The guns that Nelson had been forced to
leave behind were also brought up and were taken over with the other
batteries. While the shattered remnants of the army of the Tennessee
were resting, the fresh army of the Ohio was marching by it in the late
hours of the night in order to face the Southern foe in the morning.

The Southern army itself lay deep in the woods from which it had driven
its enemy. Always the assailant through the day, its losses had been
immense. Many thousands had fallen, and no new troops were coming to
take their place. Continual reinforcements came to the North throughout
the night, not a soldier came to the South. Beauregard, at dawn,
would have to face twice his numbers, at least half of whom were fresh
troops.

Another conference was held by the Southern generals in the forest,
but now the central figure, the great Johnston, was gone. The others,
however, summoned their courage anew, and passed the whole night
arranging their forces, cheering the men, and preparing for the morn.
Their scouts and skirmishers kept watch on the Northern camp, and the
Southerners believed that while they had whipped only one army the day
before, they could whip two on the morrow.

Dick and his friends meanwhile were lying on the earth, resting, but not
able to sleep. The nerves, drawn so tightly by the day's work, were not
yet relaxed wholly. A deep apathy seized them all. Dick, from a high
point on which he lay, saw the dark surface of the Tennessee, and the
lights on the puffing steamers as they crossed, bearing the Army of the
Ohio. His mind did not work actively now, but he felt that they were
saved. The deep river, although it was on their flank, seemed to flow
as a barrier against the foe, and it was, in fact, a barrier more and
more, as without its command the second Union army could never have come
to the relief of the first.

Dick, after a while, saw Colonel Winchester, and other officers near
him. They were talking of their losses. They gave the names of many
generals and colonels who had been killed. Presently they moved away,
and he fell into an uneasy sleep, or rather doze, from which he was
awakened after a while by a heavy rumbling sound of a distant cannonade.

The boy sprang up, wondering why any one should wish to renew the battle
in the middle of the night, and then he saw that it was no battle.
The sound was thunder rolling heavily on the southern horizon, and the
night had become very dark. Vivid flashes of lightning cut the sky,
and a strong wind rushed among the trees. Heavy drops of water struck
him in the face and then the rain swept down.

Dick did not seek protection from the storm, nor did any of those near
him. The cool drops were grateful to their faces after the heat and
strife of the day. Their pulses became stronger, and the blood flowed
in a quickened torrent through their veins. They let it pour upon them,
merely seeking to keep their ammunition dry.

Ten thousand wounded were yet lying untouched in the forest, but the
rain was grateful to them, too. When they could they turned their
fevered faces up to it that it might beat upon them and bring grateful
coolness.

Deep in the night a council like that of the Southern generals was held
in the Northern camp, also. Grant, his face an expressionless mask,
presided, and said but little. Buell, Sherman, McClernand, Nelson,
Wallace and others, were there, and Buell and Sherman, like their chief,
spoke little. The three men upon whom most rested were very taciturn
that night, but it is likely that extraordinary thoughts were passing
in the minds of every one of the three.

Grant, after a day in which any one of a dozen chances would have
wrecked him, must have concluded that in very deed and truth he was the
favorite child of Fortune. When one is saved again and again from the
very verge he begins to believe that failure is impossible, and in that
very belief lies the greatest guard against failure.

It is said of Grant that in the night after his great defeat around the
church of Shiloh, he was still confident, that he told his generals they
would certainly win on the morrow, and he reminded them that if the
Union army had suffered terribly, the Southern army must have suffered
almost equally so, and would face them at dawn with numbers far less
than their own. He had not displayed the greatest skill, but he had
shown the greatest moral courage, and now on the night between battles
it was that quality that was needed most.

Dick, not having slept any the night before, and having passed through a
day of fierce battle, was overcome after midnight, and sank into a sleep
that was mere lethargy. He awoke once before dawn and remembered,
but vaguely, all that had happened. Yet he was conscious that there was
much movement in the forest. He heard the tread of many feet, the sound
of commands, the neigh of horses and the rumbling of cannon wheels.
The Army of the Ohio was passing to the exposed flank of the Army of the
Tennessee and at dawn it would all be in line. He also caught flitting
glimpses of the Tennessee, and of the steamers loaded with troops still
crossing, and he heard the boom of the heavy cannon on the gunboats
which still, at regular and short intervals, sent huge shells curving
into the forest toward the camp of the Southern army. He also saw near
him Warner and Pennington sound asleep on the ground, and then he sank
back into his own lethargic slumber.

He was awakened by the call of a trumpet, and, as he rose, he saw the
whole regiment or rather, what was left of it, rising with him. It
was not yet dawn, and a light rain was falling, but smoldering fires
disclosed the ground for some distance, and also the river on which the
gunboats and transports were now gathered in a fleet.

Colonel Winchester beckoned to him.

"All right this morning, Dick?" he said.

"Yes, sir; I'm ready for my duty."

"And you, too, Warner and Pennington?"

"We are, sir," they replied together.

"Then keep close beside me. I don't know when I may want you for a
message. Daybreak will be here in a half hour. The entire Army of the
Ohio, led by General Buell in person will be in position then or very
shortly afterward, and a new, and, we hope, a very different battle will
begin."

Food and coffee were served to the men, and while the rain was still
falling they formed in line and awaited the dawn. The desire to
retrieve their fortunes was as strong among the farmer lads as it was
among the officers who took care to spread among them the statement that
Buell's army alone was as numerous as the Southern force, and probably
more numerous since their enemy must have sustained terrible losses.
Thus they stood patiently, while the rain thinned and the sun at last
showed a red edge through floating clouds.

They waited yet a little while longer, and then the boom of a heavy gun
in the forest told them that the enemy was advancing to begin the battle
afresh. Again it was the Southern army that attacked, although it was
no surprise now. Yet Beauregard and his generals were still sanguine
of completing the victory. Their scouts and skirmishers had failed to
discover that the entire army of Buell also was now in front of them.

Bragg was gathering his division on the left to hurl it like a
thunderbolt upon Grant's shattered brigades. Hardee and the bishop-
general were in the center, and Breckinridge led the right. But as they
moved forward to attack the Union troops came out to meet them. Nelson
had occupied the high ground between Lick and Owl Creeks, and his and
the Southern troops met in a fierce clash shortly after dawn.

Beauregard, drawn by the firing at that point, and noticing the courage
and tenacity with which the Northern troops held their ground, sending
in volley after volley, divined at once that these were not the beaten
troops of the day before, but new men. This swarthy general, volatile
and dramatic, nevertheless had great penetration. He understood on
the instant a fact that his soldiers did not comprehend until later.
He knew that the whole army of Buell was now before him.

For the moment it was Beauregard and Buell who were the protagonists,
instead of Grant and Johnston as on the day before. The Southern leader
gathered all his forces and hurled them upon Nelson. Weary though the
Southern soldiers were, their attack was made with utmost fire and
vigor. A long and furious combat ensued. A Southern division under
Cheatham rushed to the help of their fellows. Buell's forces were
driven in again and again, and only his heavy batteries enabled him to
regain his lost ground.

Buell led splendid troops that he had trained long and rigidly, and they
had not been in the conflict the day before. Fresh and with unbroken
ranks, not a man wounded or missing, they had entered the battle and
both Grant and Buell, as well as their division commanders, expected an
easy victory where the Army of the Ohio stood.

Buell, to his amazement, saw himself reduced to the defensive. He and
Grant had reckoned that the decimated brigades of the South could not
stand at all before him, but just as on the first day they came on with
the fierce rebel yell, hurling themselves upon superior numbers, taking
the cannon of their enemy, losing them, and retaking them and losing
them again, but never yielding.

The great conflict increased in violence. Buell, a man of iron courage,
saw that his soldiers must fight to the uttermost, not for victory only,
but even to ward off defeat. The dawn was now far advanced. The rain
had ceased, and the sun again shot down sheaves of fiery rays upon a
vast low cloud of fire and smoke in which thousands of men met in
desperate combat.

Nine o'clock came. It had been expected by Grant that Buell long before
that time would have swept everything before him. But for three hours
Buell had been fighting to keep himself from being swept away. The
Southern troops seemed animated by that extraordinary battle fever and
absolute contempt of death which distinguished them so often during this
war. Buell's army was driven in on both flanks, and only the center
held fast. It began to seem possible that the South, despite her
reduced ranks might yet defeat both Northern armies. Another battery
dashed up to the relief of the men in blue. It was charged at once by
the men in gray so fiercely that the gunners were glad to escape with
their guns, and once more the wild rebel yell of triumph swelled through
the southern forest.

Dick, standing with his comrades on one of the ridges that they had
defended so well, listened to the roar of conflict on the wing, ever
increasing in volume, and watched the vast clouds of smoke gathering
over the forest. He could see from where he stood the flash of rifle
fire and the blaze of cannon, and both eye and ear told him that the
battle was not moving back upon the South.

"It seems that we do not make headway, sir," he said to Colonel
Winchester, who also stood by him, looking and listening.

"Not that I can perceive," replied the colonel, "and yet with the rush
of forty thousand fresh troops of ours upon the field I deemed victory
quick and easy. How the battle grows! How the South fights!"

Colonel Winchester walked away presently and joined Sherman, who was
eagerly watching the mighty conflict, into which he knew that his own
worn and shattered troops must sooner or later be drawn. He walked up
and down in front of his lines, saying little but seeing everything.
His tall form was seen by all his men. He, too, must have felt a
singular thrill at that moment. He must have known that his star was
rising. He, more than any other, with his valor, penetrating mind and
decision had saved the Northern army from complete destruction the
first day at Shiloh. He had not been able to avert defeat, but he had
prevented utter ruin. His division alone had held together in the face
of the Southern attack until night came.

Sherman must have recalled, too, how his statement that the North would
need 200,000 troops in the west alone had been sneered at, and he had
been called mad. But he neither boasted nor predicted, continuing to
watch intently the swelling battle.

"I had enough fighting yesterday to last me a hundred years," said
Warner to Dick, "but it seems that I'm to have more today. If the
Johnnies had any regard for the rules of war they'd have retreated long
ago."

"We'll win yet," said Dick hopefully, "but I don't think we can achieve
any big victory. Look, there's General Grant himself."

Grant was passing along his whole line. While leaving the main battle
to Buell he retained general command and watched everything. He, too,
observed the failure of Buell's army to drive the enemy before them,
and he must have felt a sinking of the heart, but he did not show it.
Instead he spoke only of victory, when he made any comment at all,
and sent the members of his staff to make new arrangements. He must
bring into action every gun and man he had or he would yet lose.

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