• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1776 0

of the sunken road fell back to that eroded lane, found it a made-to-order trench, and got down in it to make a new stand. Wave after wave of Confederate troops charged them, running in through the brambles and the tangled woods, and were driven back by a deadly fire. The 15th Iowa, which had reached Pittsburg Landing that morning, found itself in this road, the men loading their weapons there for the first time in their lives; they had come up through a disorderly crowd of fugitives, who cried out that this was the Bull Run story all over again and that everything up front had been cut to pieces, but the Iowans were game enough and they hugged the ground in the road and opened fire. One private, apparently convinced that he would never get out of this place alive, was heard to call despairingly to his company commander: “Captain, if I’m killed, don’t bury me with a Republican!” In the peach orchard men lay flat to fire, and such a stream of Rebel bullets came in that the blossoms were all cut to pieces and floated down on the firing line like a gentle pink rain.10

Most of the soldiers knew nothing of tactics, and when they had to go from place to place they simply went as the spirit moved them: a charge was a wild rush forward, a retreat was a similar rush to the rear, and the only rule was to keep an eye on the regimental flag and go where it went. Brigade and regimental organization was lost, and men fell in with the first fighting group they came to and fought without orders. An Ohio soldier, wounded, was told to go to the rear. He wandered off, found fighting going on wherever he turned, and came back at last to tell his company commander: “Cap, give me a gun — this blamed fight ain’t got any rear.” The 15th Illinois came up from the river, fell in beside a six-gun battery, and found the rifle fire heavier than anything it had dreamed of; one man, getting ready to fight, found his musket stock shattered by a bullet, saw another bullet puncture his canteen, and was relieved of his knapsack when a bullet cut its strap. An Iowa boy, lost from his own outfit and fighting with the Illinois soldiers, got a bullet through the creased crown of his hat, looked at the hat and saw four neat holes in it, and hoisted it gaily on his ramrod for his comrades to see; then a shell burst overhead and he was killed, the Confederates swept in and captured the guns, the Illinois regiment broke, and the survivors fell in with scattered men from other broken regiments a quarter of a mile to the rear and began to fight all over again.11

Behind the lines there was complete chaos. On the roads leading back to the river landing there was an immense disorganized huddle of routed men, teamsters and their wagons, dismounted cavalrymen, reserve artillery, ambulance details bringing back wounded, artillerymen who had lost their guns. The wildest rumors were afloat: half of the army had gone, the Rebels had reached the river landing, there were no officers left, the whole army had been surrendered. One panicky soldier at the landing tried to get others to help him fell trees and build a raft; perhaps they could float down the river to Paducah and safety.12

The panic and the scare stories were all at the rear. Many men were gathered there — before the day was over a good fourth of Grant’s army was huddling under the riverbank or wandering about in a vain hunt for someone who could turn chaos into order — but up front some of the deadliest fighting in American history was going on, and the terrible clamor of battle kept mounting to a higher pitch while all the woodland smoked and flamed.

In the 16th Wisconsin, made up of backwoodsmen, the men said they were going out on a turkey shoot when they went up to the front. A private found himself in line beside the colonel, who had picked up a musket and was firing with the rest, and the private asked how many rebels the colonel had shot. Pausing to make a careful reply, the colonel said that he had fired thirty-seven cartridges and so of course should have hit thirty-seven men, “but I don’t feel certain