CHAPTER V.
One position after another was taken, and from each we were driven, or had to fall back for fear of being flanked.
The third position our brigade took was on the brow of a small hill, where we held the enemy at bay for two hours, at one time charging and driving them for a quarter of a mile, then falling back for lack of support on our right.
A Confederate officer has said of Shiloh: “The Confederate assaults were made by rapid charges along the line. They were repeatedly checked and often repulsed. Sometimes counter charges drove them back, but whether in assault or recoil, both sides saw their bravest soldiers fall in frightful numbers.” This officer’s statement is true to the letter.
We then took a new position on the edge of an open field. For an hour we listened to andwere in the midst of an artillery duel. At times the battle seemed to die out, and all was still in our immediate vicinity; but this stillness only portended the fiercer the fight when again commenced.
About 3 o’clock our cartridges began to run low, and we borrowed each of the other until all was gone; we were holding the enemy, but now our guns were silent. What a helpless man a soldier is in a battle with no ammunition. We marched to the rear left in front in search of cartridges, and none too soon either, for a troop of the enemy’s cavalry were seen on our right, trying to get in our rear and take us prisoners. We had not gone far when we met a line of fresh troops, of whom we begged cartridges, but the caliber was not the right size for our Enfield rifles and we could not use them, and we started on again hunting for cartridges, the enemy pressing us so hard that the Captain of the rear company went rushing up tothe Colonel, exclaiming breathlessly:
“My God, Colonel, they are not fifty yards from my company, and we haven’t a shot to defend ourselves.”
“Keep cool,” said the Colonel, “and don’t say anything, the enemy don’t know we are out of ammunition, and we will come out all right yet.”
We had not gone far when we met a wagon loaded with cartridges. Caliber 58. Did you ever see a hungry lot of men wade into a bang-up dinner?
Will was the first to mount the wagon and rip open one of the boxes in quick order, the men scrambling up into the wagon, and crying out: “Give me some, give me more!” The cartridge boxes and pockets were filled in short order. We then took our position on the right of our brigade, supporting a battery.
The enemy soon opened on us with a heavy artillery fire, and either having the best gunsor gunners silenced our cannon. The horses were killed, men wounded and killed, but the infantry held the line; we felt strong and courageous now, with plenty of cartridges. The men began to realize that this line must be held though every man fall.
The fight in the peach orchard at Shiloh
There was one place on the battle line of Sunday which was occupied by the gallant troops under Gen. W. H. L. Wallace, and who held the enemy at bay for a long time, the Confederates charging this place several times and being repulsed each time. “Its a regular hornet’s nest,” said one of the Confederate officers, and the spot as located by the United States Commissioners of the Shiloh National Park, bears the name, “Hornet’s Nest,” at the present time. It was at this point that the brave and beloved Gen. W. H. L. Wallace received his mortal wound. To the east of the “Hornet’s Nest,” a short distance, is the place where Commanding General of the Confederatearmy, Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston, was killed. I believe that Gen. Johnston was the greatest General of the Confederate army, and many others agree with me.
A little to the rear of Gen. Wallace’s troops was a small pond of water. The wounded soldiers crawled to this pond to slake their thirst and bathe their wounds, and so many washed their wounds in this pond that the water looked like a pool of blood, and it was called the “Bloody Pond.”
The pond is still there, and has a fence around it, with a tablet giving its name, “Bloody Pond,” and captured cannon surround it.
The Union forces that were left were now concentrated in a much shorter line, with no gaps susceptible to a flank movement of the enemy.
As the sun went down in the west I noticed it looked as red as blood, indicative of the bloody work we had been doing on that holy Sabbath day. Night again brooded o’er us.
With the awful carnage of blood and destruction strewn over two miles, with thousands of killed and wounded on both sides, no doubt both armies were glad that darkness closed the terrible struggle, for the day at least. Our Orderly Sergeant of our company called the roll and out of 55 that started in the morning, 31 answered “here,” and with the exception of two or three, the rest had been killed or wounded.
We bivouacked on the firing line, the rain coming down during the night wetting us through and through. Our company was with others detailed for picket duty that night between 10 and 12 o’clock, and stationed about two hundred yards in front of our line.
Will was posted near a big tree. The night was pitch dark, and having had nothing to eat since morning he was tired and sleepy. But, realizing the duty of a soldier never to fall asleep on the picket line, he tried in every way to keep awake. In telling his experience afterwards toJim, he said: “I never worked harder. I pulled my hair and bit my lips to keep awake. About 11 o’clock I heard the cracking of twigs in front of me. The darkness was intense. I could see nothing, but sleepiness was gone then. I listened intently. On it came, something, somebody making straight for me. I waited, with musket ready to fire, until I thought it time to make the challenge, and then cried out: ‘Halt; Who goes there?’ He halted, and out of the darkness came a voice saying:
“‘I am wounded and want to get to a surgeon.’ I was not satisfied with this. He might be an enemy trying to capture the sentinels, and the enemy then would make a night attack on our sleeping army in the rear. So I plied him with questions as to his regiment, brigade and division, to which he answered in such a manner that he convinced me he was telling the truth, and I told him to advance. He came hobbling along with a broken ramrod of a cannonfor a crutch, shot through the leg. I called the Sergeant of the Guard: ‘Sergeant of the Guard, Post No. 6,’ and the next sentinel took up the cry and pretty soon the Sergeant came and I turned the poor fellow over to be taken to the Surgeon.”
All things have an end. Twelve o’clock came, and, being relieved, we returned to the sleeping line, and, throwing ourselves on the ground, we at once fell asleep. All night the surly gunboats kept up a deadly fire on the enemy in front of our left.
Twice during the night I awoke, and could hear the groans and cries of the wounded lying out there on that bloody field. Some cried for water, others for some one to come and help them. Many years have passed since that terrible day and night, yet when my mind reverts to that time, I can hear those poor fellows crying for water. God heard them, for the heavens were opened and the rain came.