The Great Republic by the Master Historians Sherman's March to the Sea byBancroft, Hubert H.
[As preliminary to Sherman's story of his remarkable expedition we have an
important series of military events to pass in review. One of these was the
destruction of the public works at Meridian, Mississippi, by an expedition from
Vicksburg. This town was a railroad-centre of the greatest importance. It was
taken on February 14, and its depots, arsenals, storehouses, etc., destroyed.
The railroads were ruined for some sixty miles south and west. In April occurred
one of the most terrible events of the war, the capture of Fort Pillow by the
Confederate General Forrest, and the ruthless massacre of the negro soldiers of
the garrison. The brutality of the slaughter shocked all Christendom.
On May 1, 1864, General Sherman was at Chattanooga with an army of nearly one
hundred thousand men. General Johnston, who had succeeded Bragg, opposed him
with an army of about seventy-five thousand men. Sherman's advance began on the
6th of May. His army was stationed at some distance in front of Chattanooga,
while Johnston's army was massed at Dalton, a strong defensive position. The
first collision took place at Resaca, to the south of Dalton, which latter place
Johnston had abandoned on finding himself outflanked. Howard occupied Dalton,
and pressed him in his retreat. At Resaca a severe battle occurred, in which
Sherman lost over four thousand men. He succeeded, however, in turning the
Confederate works, and Johnston was again forced to retreat. The pursuit and
retreat continued across the Etowah River, which no attempt was made to defend.
Johnston made his next stand in the Allatoona Pass, south of that stream. After
some further fighting, Sherman succeeded in turning that position also, while
Johnston retired to strong positions in the Kenesaw, Pine, and Lost Mountains,
near Marietta. In a month's time Sherman had advanced nearly one hundred miles,
and forced the enemy to desert four strong positions, with heavy loss.
On the 9th of June, Sherman advanced again. The position held by Johnston was a
very strong one, but the line he occupied was too long for the strength of his
army. From one extremity to the other it was twelve miles long. Sherman forced
him to yield Lost and Pine Mountains, but the powerful post of Kenesaw was so
strongly intrenched as to be nearly impregnable. The whole country, Sherman
says, had become one vast fort, defended by fifty miles of trenches and
batteries. For three weeks, during which operations around Kenesaw continued,
the rain fell almost incessantly, yet despite this the army kept in high
spirits, and gradually pushed forward, step by step. Sherman, finding that he
must either assault the lines or turn the position, determined on the former.
Two assaults were made, at different points, on June 27. Both failed, and three
thousand men were killed, wounded, and missing. Little damage was done to the
enemy.
The second alternative was then adopted. A movement to turn the position was
begun on the night of July 2, and instantly Kenesaw was abandoned. Sherman's
skirmishers were on the mountain-top by dawn of the next day. Johnston next
formed a defensive line behind the Chattahoochee River, yet by the 9th Sherman
had crossed the stream above him, when he at once retreated. Consternation now
began to spread through the Confederacy. More than five miles of works of
defence, of the most formidable kind, had been constructed, yet they were
abandoned without a blow. Only eight miles distant lay the railroad-centre of
Atlanta, with its magazines, stores, arsenals, workshops, and foundries, one of
the most important posts in the Confederate States.
Sherman now rested until the 17th, to bring up stores and recruit his men. He
marched again on that day, and on the same day Johnston, whose cautious policy
had given offence to the Richmond authorities, was removed from his command and
replaced by Hood. The latter at once began offensive operations, and severe
battles were fought on the 20th and the 22d, in both of which the Confederates
were repulsed. In the two conflicts the assailants lost about thirteen thousand
men. The Union loss was less than half this number. A third battle took place on
the 28th, in which Hood was again the assailant, and in which he was repulsed
with a loss of five thousand men, Sherman's loss being less than six hundred.
This attack had been made to check Sherman's flanking movements, which now
continued with less opposition. He eventually raised the siege of Atlanta, and
fell on Hood's line of communication, thoroughly destroying the railroad, and
interposing his army between Hood and a large detachment which had been sent out
under Hardee. This circumstance made necessary the abandonment of the city,
which had been rendered untenable. It was deserted during the night of September
1, and fell into Sherman's hands. In this series of operations the Union losses
had been about thirty thousand, those of the Confederates about forty-two
thousand. Hood destroyed all the valuable railroad and other war material in the
city before leaving it. Sherman, finding it inadvisable to hold the city, felt
it necessary as a war-measure to render it useless to the Confederates.
Accordingly, everything in the place was burned except the churches and
dwelling-houses.
Hood now marched against Sherman's line of communication, hoping, by the
destruction of the railroad over which the Union supplies were drawn, to force
his antagonist to retreat. He was pursued for some distance, but Sherman soon
desisted from pursuit, having decided upon another plan of operations. General
Thomas had been sent to Nashville, to guard the State of Tennessee against
Confederate aggression. Sherman now sent the Fourth and Twenty-Third Corps,
numbering twenty-three thousand men, to reinforce him, retaining about sixty-
five thousand men for the bold enterprise which he had projected, that of
cutting loose from lines of communication, and marching across Georgia, from
Atlanta to the ocean. Before describing this march, the final important event of
the war in the Western States may be briefly reviewed.
Instead of following Sherman, Hood continued to march northward, and forced a
crossing of the Tennessee River near Florence. He had with him about thirty
thousand infantry and ten thousand cavalry. The corps under Schofield and
Stanley, which Sherman had sent to reinforce Thomas, faced Hood at Florence, but
gradually retired as he advanced, obstructing his march. No important collision
took place until the two armies reached Franklin, on the Harpeth River, eighteen
miles south of Nashville. Schofield delayed here to pass his wagon-trains over
the river, and before he could follow with the troops Hood was upon him. His
position was perilous. Of his seventeen thousand men a portion had crossed, and
he had but ten thousand available to meet Hood. If defeated, with the river in
his rear, destruction was imminent.
Schofield bravely held his ground, however, repulsing four successive attacks
with severe loss to the enemy. Hood lost about six thousand men, Schofield but
two thousand three hundred. During the night the river was crossed, and a rapid
march made to Nashville, in which city the whole army was concentrated on the
1st of December. Thomas had covered the place with a line of strong
fortifications, while his army was gradually strengthened till it amounted to
more than fifty-six thousand troops. Hood approached Nashville on December 2,
and established his line in front of that of Thomas. In this position both
armies lay till the 15th of the month, busily preparing for battle. In the mean
time great impatience was felt in the North at the seeming procrastination of
Thomas. Grant constantly urged him to decisive action, but without effect.
Nothing would stir him until he was ready to move. The idea was entertained of
replacing him with some more active soldier, and Grant, impatient at the delay,
left City Point on a hasty journey to Nashville. He got no further than
Washington. On reaching there he received news which satisfied him that Thomas
had best be left alone. The cautious soldier had moved, and Hood's army had
almost ceased to exist.
On the 15th of December, a morning of fog and gloom, the Union army marched out
of its intrenchments, and fell, with the force of a surprise, on Hood's lines. A
severe battle followed, in which Hood's army was driven back at every point,
with severe loss, and forced to take up a new line of defence. At dawn of the
next day the battle recommenced, the Confederates being assailed with such
impetuosity that their line was broken in a dozen places and driven back in
utter rout. All their artillery, and thousands of prisoners, were taken, while
their losses in killed and wounded were much greater than those of the Union
forces. The pursuit of the flying army was pushed with the greatest energy and
success, prisoners being captured at every point, and the lately disciplined
force reduced to a terror-stricken mob. The rear-guard of cavalry and infantry
under Forrest bravely covered the flying army, but the pursuit was pushed day
and night until the remaining fugitives had made their way across the Tennessee,
when Thomas recalled his troops. There was no longer occasion for pursuit.
Hood's army had ceased to exist as an army. Over thirteen thousand prisoners had
been taken. Over two thousand deserters were received. Many fled to their homes.
The loss in killed and wounded had been enormous. Seventy-two pieces of
artillery, and vast quantities of other war-material, were captured. The army
was annihilated, with a loss to Thomas in all of about ten thousand killed,
wounded, and missing. This terrible stroke ended the war in the Mississippi
Valley. No organized army appeared again in the field.
While these movements were taking place, others of equal importance were
occurring in Georgia. The story of the adventurous march which followed
Sherman's abandonment of Atlanta is one of the most dramatic character, and no
incident of the war excited greater interest and enthusiasm. It has been well
described by many historians, but we prefer to give it in the words of the hero
himself, and therefore make our selection from the "Memoirs of W. T. Sherman."]
About seven A. M. of November 16 we rode out of Atlanta by the Decatur road,
filled by the marching troops and wagons of the Fourteenth Corps, and, reaching
the hill just outside of the old rebel works, we naturally paused to look back
upon the scenes of our past battles. We stood upon the very ground whereon was
fought the bloody battle of July 22, and could see the copse of wood where
McPherson fell. Behind us lay Atlanta, smouldering in ruins, the black smoke
rising high in air, and hanging like a pall over the ruined city. Away off in
the distance, on the McDonough road, was the rear of Howard's column, the gun-
barrels glistening in the sun, the white-topped wagons stretching away to the
south; and right before us the Fourteenth Corps marching steadily and rapidly,
with a cheery look and swinging pace, that made light of the thousand miles that
lay between us and Richmond. Some band, by accident, struck up the anthem of
"John Brown's soul goes marching on;" the men caught up the strain, and never
before or since have I heard the chorus of "Glory, glory, hallelujah!" done with
more spirit, or in better harmony of time and place.
Then we turned our horses' heads to the east: Atlanta was soon lost behind the
screen of trees, and became a thing of the past. Around it clings many a thought
of desperate battle, of hope and fear, that now seem like the memory of a dream;
and I have never seen the place since. The day was extremely beautiful, clear
sunlight, with bracing air, and an unusual feeling of exhilaration seemed to
pervade all minds,--a feeling of something to come, vague and undefined, still
full of venture and intense interest. Even the common soldiers caught the
inspiration, and many a group called out to me, as I worked my way past them,
"Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond!" Indeed, the general
sentiment was that we were marching for Richmond, and that there we should end
the war, but how and when they seemed to care not; nor did they measure the
distance, or count the cost in life, or bother their brains about the great
rivers to be crossed, and the food required for man and beast, that had to be
gathered by the way. There was a "devil-may-care" feeling pervading officers and
men, that made me feel the full load of responsibility, for success would be
accepted as a matter of course, whereas, should we fail, this "march" would be
adjudged the wild adventure of a crazy fool. I had no purpose to march direct
for Richmond by way of Augusta and Charlotte, but always designed to reacn the
sea-coast first at Savannah or Port Royal, South Carolina, and even kept in mind
the alternative of Pensacola.
The first night out we camped by the roadside near Lithonia. Stone Mountain, a
mass of granite, was in plain view, cut out in clear outline against the blue
sky; the whole horizon was lurid with the bonfires of rail-ties, and groups of
men all night were carrying the heated rails to the nearest trees and bending
them around the trunks. Colonel Poe had provided tools for ripping up the rails
and twisting them when hot; but the best and easiest way is the one I have
described, of heating the middle of the iron rails on bonfires made of the
cross-ties, and then winding them around a telegraph-pole or the trunk of some
convenient sapling. I attached much importance to this destruction of the
railroad, gave it my own personal attention, and made reiterated orders to
others on the subject.
The next day we passed through the handsome town of Covington, the soldiers
closing up their ranks, the colorbearers unfurling their flags, and the bands
striking up patriotic airs. The white people came out of their houses to behold
the sight, spite of their deep hatred of the invaders, and the negroes were
simply frantic with joy. Whenever they heard my name, they clustered about my
horse, shouted and prayed in their peculiar style, which had a natural eloquence
that would have moved a stone. I have witnessed hundreds, if not thousands, of
such scenes, and can now see a poor girl, in the very ecstasy of the Methodist
"shout," hugging the banner of one of the regiments, and jumping up to the "feet
of Jesus."
I remember, when riding around by a by-street in Covington, to avoid the crowd
that followed the marching column, that some one brought me an invitation to
dine with a sister of Sam Anderson, who was a cadet at West Point with me; but
the messenger reached me after we had passed the main part of the town. I asked
to be excused, and rode on to a place designated for camp, at the crossing of
the Ulcofauhachee River, about four miles to the east of the town. Here we made
our bivouac, and I walked up to a plantation-house close by, where were
assembled many negroes, among them an old, gray-haired man, of as fine a head as
I ever saw. I asked him if he understood about the war and its progress. He said
he did; that he had been looking for the "angel of the Lord" ever since he was
knee-high, and, though we professed to be fighting for the Union, he supposed
that slavery was the cause, and that our success was to be his freedom. I asked
him if all the negro slaves comprehended this fact, and he said they surely did.
I then explained to him that we wanted the slaves to remain where they were, and
not to load us down with useless mouths, which would eat up the food needed for
our fighting-men; that our success was their assured freedom; that we could
receive a few of their young, hearty men as pioneers, but that if they followed
us in swarms of old and young, feeble and helpless, it would simply load us down
and cripple us in our great task. I think Major Henry Hitchcock was with me on
that occasion, and made a note of the conversation, and I believe that old man
spread this message to the slaves, which was carried from mouth to mouth, to the
very end of our journey, and that it in part saved us from the great danger we
incurred of swelling our numbers so that famine would have attended our
progress. It was at this very plantation that a soldier passed me with a ham on
his musket, a jug of sorghum-molasses under his arm, and a big piece of honey in
his hand, from which he was eating, and, catching my eye, he remarked sotto voce
and carelessly to a comrade, "Forage liberally on the country," quoting from my
general orders. On this occasion, as on many others that fell under my personal
observation, I reproved the man, explained that foraging must be limited to the
regular parties properly detailed, and that all provisions thus obtained must be
delivered to the regular commissaries, to be fairly distributed to the men who
kept their ranks.
From Covington the Fourteenth Corps (Davis's), with which I was travelling,
turned to the right for Milledgeville, via Shady Dale. General Slocum was ahead
at Madison, with the Twentieth Corps, having torn up the railroad as far as that
place, and thence had sent Geary's division on to the Oconee, to burn the
bridges across that stream, when this corps turned south by Eatonton, for
Milledgeville, the common "objective" for the first stage of the "march." We
found abundance of corn, molasses, meal, bacon, and sweet potatoes. We also took
a good many cows and oxen, and a large number of mules. In all these the country
was quite rich, never before having been visited by a hostile army; the recent
crop had been excellent, had been just gathered and laid by for the winter. As a
rule, we destroyed none, but kept our wagons full, and fed our teams
bountifully.
The skill and success of the men in collecting forage was one of the features of
this march. Each brigade commander had authority to detail a company of
foragers, usually about fifty men, with one or two commissioned officers
selected for their boldness and enterprise. This party would be despatched
before daylight with a knowledge of the intended day's march and camp, would
proceed on foot five or six miles from the route travelled by their brigade, and
then visit every plantation and farm within range. They would usually procure a
wagon or family carriage, load it with bacon, corn-meal, turkeys, chickens,
ducks, and everything that could be used as food or forage, and would then
regain the main road, usually in advance of the train. When this came up, they
would deliver to the brigade commissary the supplies thus gathered by the way.
Often would I pass these foraging-parties at the roadside, waiting for their
wagons to come up, and was amused at their strange collections,--mules, horses,
even cattle, packed with old saddles and loaded with hams, bacon, bags of
cornmeal, and poultry of every character and description. Although this foraging
was attended with great danger and hard work, there seemed to be a charm about
it that attracted the soldiers, and it was a privilege to be detailed on such a
party. Daily they returned mounted on all sorts of beasts, which were at once
taken from them and appropriated to the general use; but the next day they would
start out again on foot, only to repeat the experience of the day before. No
doubt many acts of pillage, robbery, and violence were committed by these
parties of foragers, usually called "bummers;" for I have since heard of jewelry
taken from women, and the plunder of articles that never reached the commissary;
but these acts were exceptional and incidental. I never heard of any cases of
murder or rape; and no army could have carried along sufficient food and forage
for a march of three hundred miles: so that foraging in some shape was
necessary. The country was sparsely settled, with no magistrates or civil
authorities who could respond to requisitions, as is done in all the wars of
Europe: so that this system of foraging was simply indispensable to our success.
By it our men were well supplied with all the essentials of life and health,
while the wagons retained enough in case of unexpected delay, and our animals
were well fed. Indeed, when we reached Savannah the trains were pronounced by
experts to be the finest in flesh and appearance ever seen with any army.
Habitually each corps followed some main road, and the foragers, being kept out
on the exposed flank, served all the military uses of flankers. The main columns
gathered, by the roads travelled, much forage and food, chiefly meat, corn, and
sweet potatoes, and it was the duty of each division and brigade quartermaster
to fill his wagons as fast as the contents were issued to the troops. The wagon-
trains had the right to the road always, but each wagon was required to keep
closed up, so as to leave no gaps in the column. If for any purpose any wagon or
group of wagons dropped out of place, they had to wait for the rear. And this
was always dreaded, for each brigade commander wanted his train up at camp as
soon after reaching it with his men as possible.
I have seen much skill and industry displayed by these quartermasters on the
march, in trying to load their wagons with corn and fodder by the way without
losing their place in column. They would, while marching, shift the loads of
wagons, so as to have six or ten of them empty. Then, riding well ahead, they
would secure possession of certain stacks of fodder near the road, or cribs of
corn, leave some men in charge, then open fences and a road back for a couple of
miles, return to their trains, divert the empty wagons out of column, and
conduct them rapidly to their forage, load up and regain their place in column
without losing distance. On one occasion I remember to have seen ten or a dozen
wagons thus loaded with corn from two or three full cribs, almost without
halting. These cribs were built of logs, and roofed. The train-guard, by a
lever, had raised the whole side of the crib a foot or two; the wagons drove
close alongside, and the men in the cribs, lying on their backs, kicked out a
wagon-load of corn in the time I have taken to describe it.
In a well-ordered and well-disciplined army these things might be deemed
irregular, but I am convinced that the ingenuity of these younger officers
accomplished many things far better than I could have ordered, and the marches
were thus made, and the distances were accomplished, in the most admirable way.
Habitually we started from camp at the earliest break of dawn, and usually
reached camp soon after noon. The marches varied from ten to fifteen miles a
day, though sometimes on extreme flanks it was necessary to make as much as
twenty; but the rate of travel was regulated by the wagons; and, considering the
nature of the roads, fifteen miles per day was deemed the limit.
The pontoon-trains were in like manner distributed in about equal proportions to
the four corps, giving each a section of about nine hundred feet. The pontoons
were of the skeleton pattern, with cotton-canvas covers, each boat, with its
proportion of balks and chesses, constituting a load for one wagon. By uniting
two such sections together, we could make a bridge of eighteen hundred feet,
enough for any river we had to traverse; but habitually the leading brigade
would, out of the abundant timber, improvise a bridge before the pontoon-train
could come up, unless in the case of rivers of considerable magnitude, such as
the Ocmulgee, Oconee, Ogeechee, Savannah, etc.
[On the 20th of November, Sherman stopped at a plantation mansion which, by
chance, he discovered to be that of Howell Cobb, Secretary of the Treasury in
Buchanan's Cabinet, and at that time a general in the Confederate army. Here,
contrary to his usual custom, he ordered that nothing should be spared: the
fence-rails were destroyed for camp-fires, and an immense quantity of corn and
provisions of all sorts was carried off.
While the left wing was marching in this direction, General Howard, with the
right wing, was advancing towards Macon, which he reached on the 22d, driving
before him the Confederate forces that endeavored to hold the town.]
By the 23d I was in Milledgeville with the left wing, and was in full
communication with the right wing at Gordon. The people of Milledgeville
remained at home, except the Governor (Brown), the State officers, and
Legislature, who had ignominiously fled, in the utmost disorder and confusion;
standing not on the order of their going, but going at once,--some by rail, some
by carriages, and many on foot. Some of the citizens who remained behind
described this flight of the "brave and patriotic" Governor Brown. He had
occupied a public building known as the "Governor's Mansion," and had hastily
stripped it of carpets, curtains, and furniture of all sorts, which were removed
to a train of freight-cars, which carried away these things,--even the cabbages
and vegetables from his kitchen and cellar,--leaving behind muskets, ammunition,
and the public archives. On my arrival at Milledgeville I occupied the same
public mansion, and was soon over-whelmed with appeals for protection. General
Slocum had previously arrived with the Twentieth Corps, had taken up his
quarters at the Milledgeville Hotel, established a good provost-guard, and
excellent order was maintained. The most frantic appeals had been made by the
Governor and Legislature for help from every quarter, and the people of the
State had been called out en masse to resist and destroy the invaders of their
homes and firesides. Even the prisoners and convicts of the penitentiary were
released on condition of serving as soldiers, and the cadets were taken from
their military college for the same purpose. These constituted a small
battalion, under General Harry Wayne, a former officer of the United States
Army, and son of the then Justice Wayne of the Supreme Court. But these hastily
retreated across the Oconee River, leaving us a good bridge, which we promptly
secured.
At Milledgeville we found newspapers from all the South, and learned the
consternation which had filled the Southern mind at our temerity; many charging
that we were actually fleeing for our lives and seeking safety at the hands of
our fleet on the sea-coast. All demanded that we should be assailed, "front,
flank, and rear;" that provisions should be destroyed in advance, so that we
would starve; that bridges should be burned, roads obstructed, and no mercy
shown us. Judging from the tone of the Southern press of that day, the outside
world must have supposed us ruined and lost.
[Some of these appeals are curious. We give an example.
"To the People of Georgia:
"Arise for the defence of your native soil! Rally around your patriotic Governor
and gallant soldiers! Obstruct and destroy all the roads in Sherman's front,
flank, and rear, and his army will soon starve in your midst. Be confident. Be
resolute. Trust in an overruling Providence, and success will crown your
efforts. I hasten to join you in the defence of your home and firesides.
"G. T. BEAUREGARD."]
Of course we were rather amused than alarmed at these threats, and made light of
the feeble opposition offered to our progress. Some of the officers (in the
spirit of mischief) gathered together in the vacant Hall of Representatives,
elected a Speaker, and constituted themselves the Legislature of the State of
Georgia! A proposition was made to repeal the ordinance of secession, which was
well debated, and resulted in its repeal by a fair vote! I was not present at
these frolics, but heard of them at the time, and enjoyed the joke.
[The arsenal at Milledgeville was destroyed, with such other public buildings as
could be used for hostile purposes, but all private property was spared. The
right wing meanwhile continued its march along the railroad towards Savannah,
destroying the ties and rails as it advanced. The cavalry was sent on a
circuitous route to Millen, to rescue the prisoners of war confined there.]
On the 24th we renewed the march, and I accompanied the Twentieth Corps, which
took the direct road to Sandersville, which we reached simultaneously with the
Fourteenth Corps, on the 26th. A brigade of rebel cavalry was deployed before
the town, and was driven in and through it by our skirmish-line. I myself saw
the rebel cavalry apply fire to stacks of fodder standing in the fields at
Sandersville, and gave orders to burn some unoccupied dwellings close by. On
entering the town, I told certain citizens (who would be sure to spread the
report) that, if the enemy attempted to carry out their threat to burn their
food, fodder, and corn in our route, I would most undoubtedly execute to the
letter the general orders of devastation made at the outset of the campaign.
With this exception, and one or two minor cases near Savannah, the people did
not destroy food, for they saw clearly that it would be ruin to themselves.
At Sandersville I halted the left wing until I heard that the right wing was
abreast of us on the railroad. During the evening a negro was brought to me who
had that day been to the station (Tenille) about six miles south of the town. I
inquired of him if there were any Yankees there, and he answered, "Yes." He
described in his own way what he had seen. "First, there come along some
cavalrymen, and they burned the depot; then come along some infantry-men, and
they tore up the track, and burned it;" and just before he left they had "sot
fire to the well."
The next morning, viz., the 27th, I rode down to the station, and found General
Corse's division (of the Fifteenth Corps) engaged in destroying the railroad,
and saw the well which my negro informant had seen "burnt." It was a square pit
about twenty-five feet deep, boarded up, with wooden steps leading to the
bottom, wherein was a fine copper pump, to lift the water to a tank above. The
soldiers had broken up the pump, heaved in the steps and lining, and set fire to
the mass of lumber in the bottom of the well, which corroborated the negro's
description.
[On the 3d of December Millen was reached, the army being yet in excellent
condition, its wagons full of forage and provisions. Two-thirds of the distance
to Savannah had been traversed. The remainder lay through a more sandy and
barren country, where food was scarce, yet Sherman determined to push on for
that city.]
General Hardee was ahead, between us and Savannah, with McLaws' division, and
other irregular troops, that could not, I felt assured, exceed ten thousand men.
I caused the fine depot at Millen to be destroyed, and other damage done, and
then resumed the march directly on Savannah, by the four main roads. The
Seventeenth Corps (General Blair) followed substantially the railroad, and,
along with it, on the 5th of December I reached Ogeechee Church, about fifty
miles from Savannah, and found there fresh earthworks, which had been thrown up
by McLaws' division; but he must have seen that both his flanks were being
turned, and prudently retreated to Savannah without fight. All the columns then
pursued leisurely their march towards Savannah, corn and forage becoming more
and more scarce, but rice-fields beginning to occur along the Savannah and
Ogeechee Rivers, which proved a good substitute, both as food and forage. The
weather was fine, the roads good and everything seemed to favor us. Never do I
recall a more agreeable sensation than the sight of our camps by night, lit up
by the fires of fragrant pine-knots. The trains were all in good order, and the
men seemed to march their fifteen miles a day as though it were nothing. No
enemy opposed us, and we could occasionally hear the faint reverberation of a
gun to our left rear, where we knew that General Kilpatrick was skirmishing with
Wheeler's cavalry, which persistently followed him. But the infantry columns had
met with no opposition whatsoever. McLaws' division was falling back before us,
and we occasionally picked up a few of his men as prisoners, who insisted that
we would meet with strong opposition at Savannah.
On the 8th, as I rode along, I found the column turned out of the main road,
marching through the fields. Close by, in the corner of a fence, was a group of
men standing around a handsome young officer, whose foot had been blown to
pieces by a torpedo planted in the road. He was waiting for a surgeon to
amputate his leg, and told me that he was riding along with the rest of his
brigadestaff of the Seventeenth Corps, when a torpedo trodden on by his horse
had exploded, killing the horse and literally blowing off all the flesh from one
of his legs. I saw the terrible wound, and made full inquiry into the facts.
There had been no resistance at that point, nothing to give warning of danger,
and the rebels had planted eight-inch shells in the road, with friction-matches
to explode them by being trodden on. This was not war, but murder, and it made
me very angry. I immediately ordered a lot of rebel prisoners to be brought from
the provost-guard, armed with picks and spades, and made them march in close
order along the road, so as to explode their own torpedoes, or to discover and
dig them up. They begged hard, but I reiterated the order, and could hardly help
laughing at their stepping so gingerly along the road, where it was supposed
sunken torpedoes might explode at each step; but they found no other torpedoes
till near Fort McAllister. That night we reached Pooler's Station, eight miles
from Savannah, and during the next two days, December 9 and 10, the several
corps reached the defences of Savannah,--the Fourteenth Corps on the left,
touching the river, the Twentieth Corps next, then the Seventeenth, and the
Fifteenth on the extreme right; thus completely investing the city.
[The conclusion of the story of Sherman's exploits may be given in epitome.
After the investment of Savannah, communication was established between the army
and the fleet, and preparations were made for an assault upon the city, which
Hardee, the Confederate commander, had refused to surrender. This was avoided by
an evacuation, and on the 22d of December Savannah was surrendered to the army
of invasion, thus completing the remarkable expedition, which had crossed
several hundred miles of a hostile country almost without loss or resistance.
By the various operations described the field of the war had been reduced to the
Atlantic States, between Savannah on the south and Richmond on the north.
Measures were at once taken to combine the armies of Sherman and Grant and crush
out the remaining life of the Confederacy between their folds. It was Grant's
design to transport Sherman's army by sea, but Sherman proposed the more
difficult but more effective measure of a march overland. This was agreed to,
and on the 1st of February, 1865, another long march through the heart of a
hostile territory began. It was intended, as before, to live on the country, and
very little baggage was taken. The army was sixty thousand strong. Beauregard
was in command of the opposing forces, but no strong opposition was encountered.
On the 17th Columbia, the capital of South Carolina, was reached and occupied.
The city was burned. Wade Hampton, in command of the retreating Confederate
cavalry, had set fire to a considerable quantity of cotton in the streets, and,
in his efforts to destroy this, destroyed the city. Sherman had given orders to
burn all public buildings, but the efforts of his soldiers were vainly directed
to check the conflagration started by the enemy.
On the next day Charleston, which had so long and so gallantly defended itself
from assault by sea, fell without a blow in its defence, and the birthplace of
the rebellion was once more in Union hands. It suffered as severely from its
friends as Columbia had done. General Hardee, who commanded in that city, with
fourteen thousand men, hastily retreated, lest he should be caught in a trap, as
Pemberton had been at Vicksburg. Before doing so he set fire to every building
containing cotton. Fire communicated from this to powder scattered in the
street, and a train of flame ran to the powder-magazine, which blew up with a
fearful explosion. Two hundred people were instantly killed, and a great portion
of the city was burned.
On the 8th of March the southern boundary of North Carolina was crossed, and
that State entered. On the 11th Fayetteville was taken. Beauregard was now
relieved, and Johnston again appointed to the command of the Confederate army.
It was necessary to move more cautiously against this experienced commander.
Several engagements took place, but the advance continued, and a line of
occupation from Bentonville to Goldsborough was established by the 21st. The
army had been reinforced by Schofield's corps from the West, with other
reinforcements, and was now one hundred thousand strong. Having rested and
refitted, Sherman's army marched again on April 10, destroying the railroad as
it went. On the 14th the hostile march ended, news being received from the North
that put an end to all further hostilities. General Lee had surrendered, and the
war was at an end.]
