USA > Indiana > The Eighty-sixth regiment, Indiana volunteer infantry : a narrative of its services in the civil war of 1861-1865 > Part 25
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It will be seen from this report that Wood's division is far ahead in the number of captured cannon turned into the proper authorities. Of Wood's capture, Beatty's brigade lays claim to eight guns, two of which were brought in by the Eighty-sixth Indiana. Besides this, Wood's division cap- tured seven regimental colors, 2,050 stands of arms, and over 2,000 prisoners. Among the prisoners were officers of all grades, Captain W. S. Sims, of the Eighty-sixth, capturing on top of the Ridge, Major W. F. Fergus, of the Forty-sec- ond Alabama. As to how this was done Colonel Dick, in a letter afterward, says: "The advance troops of our brigade turned quickly to the left, with my flag in front in command of Captain Sims. They soon came against a redoubt manned by the Forty-second Alabama, the commander of which saw our flag coming, and told his men to lie still and they would sally out and capture it when it came near. Sims told his men that they must take that rebel flag. The commander of the Alabama regiment called to his men to leap over the works after him, but they arose and leaped out on the other side, leaving their commander to fall into our hands; and he did fall, hurting his face on the rocks, at Sims' feet, who lit- erally got on top of him and held him down. He took sup- per with us that night and told us all that I have described above." Bragg's loss was about 3, 100 in killed and wounded, and nearly 7,000 prisoners. Of the latter 239 were commis- sioned officers.
The casualties reported in the Union army, in the series of struggles which ended in the victory at Missionary Ridge,
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were 753 killed, 4,722 wounded, and 349 missing. making an aggregate of 5,824. Of this total the Army of the Tennessee lost 1,695, and the Army of the Cumberland 4,129, of which the Fourth corps lost 2,527, the Eleventh corps 330, the Twelfth corps 341, and the Fourteenth corps 931.
The heroic conduct of the Seventy-ninth and Eighty- sixth Indiana on Missionary Ridge was witnessed by Cap- tain Reilly, of the Tenth Kentucky. He penned a vivid ac- count of what he saw for the Louisville Journal, which ap- peared in that paper directly after the battle. It will be re- membered that the Tenth Kentucky was in Baird's division, and therefore he was not interested in the Seventy-ninth or Eighty-sixth. His statements may therefore be accepted as unbiased. The following is Captain's Reilly's letter:
"The summit of Missionary Ridge is one thousand feet above the Tennessee river and towers aloft in grandeur, a fitting monument to commemorate the great victory achieved by our national arms on the memorable 25th of November. On that day the Star Spangled Banner could be discerned slowly scaling the steep and rugged ascent, riveting the gaze of thousands of anxious spectators in the line of battle below. It seemed that the Eighty-sixth and Seventy-ninth Indiana had failed to receive orders to halt when it was given to the line of battle. Onward they moved as it were into the jaws of death. The terrible suspense of their brave comrades was only equaled by the great Napoleon when he stood on the summit of a ridge at Waterloo gazing between hope and despair at the last grand charge of his Old Guard until they were lost sight of in the clouds of smoke of the enemy's cannon. Step by step they ascended until within fifty yards of the bristling bayonets of the rebel rifles when they received the order to lie down. The rebels opened on them and volley after volley was poured into their ranks, midst the wild and enthusiastic shouts of the rebels, and de- fiant waving of the Stars and Bars-said to have been done by Bragg in person. Springing to their feet with the energy of desperation the glorious Eighty-sixth Indiana leads the grand charge to victory or death, followed by the Seventy-
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ninth Indiana, and onward they pushed their columns through a shower of bullets that rattled like hail and were lost to view in the smoke of battle. A death stillness per- vaded the line of battle below for a few moments, when the anxious inquiry passed along the lines, 'Is our flag still there? ' It seemed like hoping against hope to expect that the two regiments had met any other fate than instant anni- hilation; every minute seemed a month for half an hour, at the end of which time the smoke had disappeared and our glorions flag greeted the anxious spectators, floating in triumph over the rebel works. It was the war-worn banner of the immortal Eighty-sixth Indiana which was held until re-inforcements came and secured the position gained by the most daring and terrible charge that history ever recorded. The flag of the Eighty-sixth Indiana that sealed this victory received in its folds eighty-six shots, emblematic of the regi- ment it so gallantly led through the ranks of death to a crowning victory. The staff was broken by a ball, but it still waves over one of the most gallant regiments that ever entered the field of battle. The answer on that memorable night to ten thousand inquiries infused a new spirit in the army as it responded along the line, 'Yes, our flag is still there.' Forty thousand spectators who witnessed the bril- liant scene and asked the question while held in fearful sus- pense, will ask it as often as returning memory brings to mind the grand charge of the two gallant regiments on Mis- sionary Ridge. Who will commemorate this great achieve- ment and the thrilling incidents associated with it, in poetry? The subject is eminently worthy of our best poets and could be embodied in a National anthem that would inspire all patriotic hearts with renewed devotion to the glorious flag of our country."
Captain Reilly has one error in his account. He says the flag of the Eighty-sixth received eighty-six balls in its folds. There were eighty-eight bullet holes in the flag itself, one struck the spear-head above the flag and a grape-shot ent the staff off below the flag, making in all ninety balls that struck the flag and staff.
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Perhaps the finest general description of the assault by the Fourth corps on Missionary Ridge was written by B. F. Taylor, the poet. He makes the mistake of crediting Gen- eral Grant with conceiving the idea of the assault upon the Ridge. Dr. L. B. Brockett, in his work, "Camp, Battle- field, and Hospital," says, introducing Taylor's descrip- tion: "The bold and rapid movement, by which, while marshaled, as the enemy supposed, for dress-parade, the Army of the Cumberland swept across the plain and captured Orchard Knob; that succession of fierce and persistent strug- gles in which Sherman wrestled for the capture of Tunnel Hill, and by which he drew to that point so large a portion of Bragg's troops; and last and most glorious of all that fiery ascent of Missionary Ridge, in which that noble Fourth corps marched and climbed for a long hour through a furnace of flame, and after struggling up an ascent so steep that to climb it unopposed would take the stoutest energies, swept their enemies from its summit, and over all the broad vista disclosed from its summit, saw only a flying and utterly routed foe. Many writers have attempted to describe, and with varying success, this brilliant feat of arms, but none have succeeded so admirably as Mr. B. F. Taylor, of the Chi- cago Journal, himself an eye-witness of it. We give a portion of his description which is as truthful as it is glowing. Mr. Taylor writes:
" The brief November afternoon was half gone; it was yet thundering on the left; along the center all was still. At that very hour a fierce assault was made upon the enemy's left near Rossville four miles down toward the old field of Chickamauga. They carried the Ridge; Missionary Ridge seems everywhere-they strewed its summit with rebel dead; they held it. And thus the tips of the Federal army's wide- spread wings flapped grandly. But had not swooped; the gray quarry yet perched upon Missionary Ridge; the rebel army was terribly battered at the edges, but there full in our front it grimly waited, biding out its time. If the horns of the rebel crescent could not be doubled crushingly to- gether, in a shapeless mass, possibly it might be sundered at
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THE EIGHTY-SIXTH REGIMENT,
its center, and tumbled in fragments over the other side of Missionary Ridge. Sherman was halted upon the left; Hooker was hard in Chattanooga valley; the Fourth corps, that rounded out our center, grew impatient of restraint; the day was waning; but little time remained to complete the commanding General's grand design; Gordon Granger's hour had come; his work was full before him.
"And what a work that was to make a weak man falter and a brave man think! One and a half miles to traverse, with narrow fringes of woods, rough valleys, sweeps of open field, rocky acclivities, to the base of the Ridge, and no foot in all the breadth withdrawn from rebel sight; no foot that could not be played upon by rebel cannon, like a piano keys, under Thalberg's stormy fingers. The base attained, what then? A heavy rebel work. That work carried, and what then? A hill, struggling up out of the valley, four hundred feet, rained on by bullets, swept by shot and shell; another line of works, and then, up like a Gothic roof rough with rocks, a wreck with fallen trees, four hundred more; another ring of fire and iron, and then the crest, and then the enemy.
"To dream of such a journey would be madness; to devise it a thing incredible; to do it a deed impossible. * The story of the battle of Missionary Ridge is struck with immor- tality already; let the leader of the Fourth corps bear it com- pany.
"That the center yet lies along its silent line is still true; in five minutes it will be the wildest fiction. Let us take that little breath of grace for just one glance at the surroundings, since we shall have neither heart nor eyes for it again. Did ever battle have so vast a cloud of witnesses? The hive shaped hills have swarmed. Clustered like bees, blackening the housetops, lining the fortifications, over yonder across the theater, in the seats with the Catilines, everywhere, are a hundred thousand beholders. Their souls are in their eyes. Not a murmur can you hear. It is the most solemn congre- gation that ever stood up in the presence of the God of bat- tles. I think of Bunker Hill as I stand here; of the thousands
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who witnessed the immortal struggle; and fancy there is a parallel. I think, too, that the chair of every man of them will stand vacant against the wall to-morrow, and that around the fireside they must give thanks without him if they can.
"Generals Grant, Thomas, and Granger conferred, an order was given, and in an instant the Knob was cleared like a ship's deck for action. At twenty minutes of four, Granger stood upon the parapet; the bugle swung idle at the bugler's side, the warbling fife and the grumbling drum un- heard-there was to be louder talk-six guns, at intervals of two seconds, the signal to advance. Strong and steady his voice rang out: 'Number one, fire! Number two, fire! Number three, fire!' it seemed to me the tolling of the clock of des- tiny-and when at 'Number six, fire!' the roar throbbed out with a flash, you should have seen the dead line that had been lying behind the works all day, all night, all day again, come to resurrection in the twinkling of an eye-leap like a blade from its scabbard, and sweep with a two mile stroke toward the Ridge.
"From divisions to brigades, from brigades to regi- ments, the orders ran. A minute, and the skirmishers deploy; a minute, and the first great drops begin to patter along the line; a minute, and the musketry is in full play, like the crackling whips of a hemlock fire; men go down, here and there, before your eyes; the wind lifts the smoke and drifts it away over the top of the Ridge; every thing is too distinct; it is fairly palpable; you can touch it with your hand. The divisions of Wood and Sheridan are wading breast deep in the valley of death.
"I never can tell you what it was like. They pushed out leaving nothing behind them. There was no reservation in that battle. On moves the line of the skirmishers, like a heavy frown, and after it, at quick time, the splendid col- umns. At right of us, and left of us, and front of us, you can see the bayonets glitter in the sun. * *
"And so through the fringe of woods went the line. Now, out into the open ground they burst at the double- quick. Shall I call it a Sabbath day's journey, or a long one
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and a half mile? To me, that watched, it seemed as etern- ity, and yet they made it in thirty minutes. The tempest that now broke upon their heads was terrible. The enemy's fire burst out of the rifle-pits from base to summit of Mis- sionary Ridge; five rebel batteries of Parrots and Napoleons opened along the crest. Grape and canister and shot and shell sowed the ground with rugged iron, and garnished it with the wounded and the dead. But steady and strong, our columns move on.
"By heavens! It was a splendid sight to see.
For one who had no friend, no brother there."
But to all loyal hearts, alas! and thank God, those men were friend and brother, both in one. * * * *
"And all the while our lines were moving on; they had burned through the woods and swept over the rough and rolling ground like a prarie fire. Never halting, never faltering, they charged up to the first riffe-pits with a cheer, forked out the rebels with their bayonets, and lay there panting for breath. If the thunder of guns had been terri- ble it was now growing sublime; it was like the footfall of God on the ledges of cloud. Our forts and batteries still thrust out their mighty arms across the valley; the rebel guns that lined the arc of the crest full in our front, opened like a fan of Lucifer and converged their fire down upon Baird, and Wood, and Sheridan. It was rifles and musketry; it was grape and canister, it was shell and shrapnel. Mis- sionary Ridge was volcanic; a thousand torrents of red poured over its brink and rushed together to its base. And our men were there halting for breath! And still the sub- lime diapason rolls on, echoes that that never waked before, roared out from height to height, and called from the far ranges of Walden's Ridge to Lookout. As for Missionary Ridge, it had jarred to such music before; it was the "sound- ing board " of Chickamauga; it was behind us then; it frowns and flashes in our faces to-day; the old Army of the Cumberland was there; it breasted the storm till the storm was spent, and left the ground it held; the old Army of the Cumberland is here! It shall roll up the Ridge
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INDIANA VOLUNTEERS.
like a surge to its summit, and sweep triumphant down the other side. Believe me, that memory and hope may have made the heart of many a blue-coat beat like a drum. 'Beat,' did I say? The feverish heat of battle beats on; fifty -eight guns a minute, by the watch, is the rate of its ter- rible throbbing. That hill, if you climb it, will appal you. Furrowed like a summer-fallow, bullets as if an oak had shed them; trees clipped and shorn, leaf and limb, as with the knife of some heroic gardener pruning back for richer fruit. How you attain the summit weary and breathless, I wait to hear; how they went up in the teeth of the storm no man can tell.
"But our gallant legions are out in the storm; they have carried the works at the base of the Ridge; they have fallen like leaves in winter weather. Blow, dumb bugles! Sound the recall! Take the rifle-pits,' was the order; and it is as empty of rebels as the tomb of the prophets. Shall they turn their backs to the blast? Shall they sit down under the eves of the dripping iron? Or shall they climb to the cloud of death above them, and pluck out its lightning as they would straws from a sheaf of wheat? But the order was not given. And now the arc of fire on the crest grows fiercer and longer. The reconnoissance of Monday had failed to de- velop the heavy metal of the enemy. The dull fringe of the hill kindles with the flash of great guns. I count the fleeces of white smoke that dot the Ridge, as battery after battery opens upon our line, until from the ends of the growing are they sweep down upon it in mighty Xs of fire. I count till that devil's girdle numbers thirteen batteries, and my heart cries out, 'Great God, when shall the end be?' There is a poem I learned in childhood, and so did you: it is Campbell's 'Hohenlinden.' One line I never knew the meaning of until I read it written along that hill! It has lighted up the whole poem for me with the glow of battle forever:
And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far llashed the red artillery.
"At this moment, General Granger's aides are dashing out with an order; they radiate over the field, to the left, right, and front; 'Take the Ridge if you can' -. Take the
,
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THE EIGHTY-SIXTH REGIMENT,
Ridge if you can"-and so it went along the line. But the advance had already set forth without it. Stout-hearted Wood, the iron-gray veteran, is rallying on his men.
" And now you have one of the most startling episodes of the war; I cannot remember it in words; dictionaries are beggarly things. But I may tell you they did not storm that mountain as you think. They dash out a little way, and then slacken; they creep up, hand over hand, loading and firing, and wavering and halting, from the first line of works to the second; they burst into a charge with a cheer, and go over it. Sheets of flame baptize them; plunging shot tear away com- rades on the left and right; it is no longer shoulder to shoul- der; it is God for us all! Under tree trunks, among rocks, stumbling over the dead, struggling with the living, facing the steady fire of eight thousand infantry poured down upon their heads as if it were the old historic curse from heaven, they wrestle with the Ridge. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes go by like a reluctant century. The batteries roll like a dream; between the second and last lines of rebel works is the torrid zone of the battle; the hill sways up like a wall be- fore them at an angle of forty-five degrees, but our brave mountaineers are climbing steadily on-up-upward still! You may think it strange, but I would not have recalled them if I could. They would have lifted you, as they did me, in full view of the heroic grandeur; they seemed to be spurning the dull earth under their feet, and going up to do Homeric battle with the greater gods.
What colors were first upon the mountain battlement I dare not try to say; bright honor itself may be proud to bear -nay, proud to follow the hindmost. Foot by foot they had fought up the steep, slippery with much blood; let them go to glory together. But this I can declare: the Seven- ty-ninth and Eighty-sixth Indiana, of Wood's division, fairly ran over the rifle-pits, and left their whole line in the rear, and their breathless color bearers led the way. A minute and they were all there, fluttering along the Ridge from left to right. The rebel hordes rolled off to the north, rolled off to the east, like the clouds of a worn out storm.
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" These three days' work brought Tennessee to resur- rection; set the flag, that fairest blossom in all the flowery world, to blooming in its native soil once more.
"It made that fleeting November afternoon imperish- able. Than the assault upon Missionary Ridge, I know of nothing more gallant in the annals of the war. Let it rank foremost with the storming of Fort Scharnitz and Alma, that covered the French arms with undying fame. * * *
Let the struggle be known as the battle of Missionary Ridge, and when, in calmer days, men make pilgrimage, and women smile again among the mountains of the Cumberland, they will need no guide. Rust will have eaten the guns; the graves of the heroes will have subsided like waves; weary of their troubling, the soldier and his leader will have lain down together; but there embossed upon the globe, Mission- ary Ridge will stand its fitting monument forever."
CHAPTER XVIII.
ON TO KNOXVILLE.
After the Battle the Rescue-Through Mud and Through Stream-Over Hill and Down Dale-The Fourth Corps Marched to Suecor the Army of the Ohio and the Gallant Burnside-An Attenuated Diet-Parched Corn and Government Bacon-An Exciting Though Amusing Incident-The Arrival at Knoxville- A "Sick Flour" Experience.
Immediately after the successful assault on Missionary Ridge, the Fourth corps, commanded by Major General Gor- don Granger, was ordered by General Grant to march at once to the relief of General A. E. Burnside and the Army of the Ohio, besieged at Knoxville by Lieutenant General James B. Longstreet, then the Confederate's most skillful and daring battle chief. Lee had called Longstreet his " old war horse, " as Longstreet himself records. After a rainy night, on the morning of the 28th of November the
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bugles of the Fourth corps sounded the reveille at 4 o'clock. The regiment formed by companies, answered roll-call, pre- pared and ate breakfast, and was ready for the march. The orders were to march at 6 a. m., but it continued to rain and the order to move was not given until 2 p. m. The Eighty- sixth was soon ready. The regiment was ordered into line and stacked arms, after which the men lounged about the old camp and discussed the probable course of the march, the time it would require to reach Knoxville, the general results and the thousand and one things that soldiers are always discussing when time and opportunity for discussion are given. However, about 4:30 p. m. the word was given to " Forward march," and the regiment was enroute for Knox- ville and the relief of Burnside.
Although late in starting, it was not too late. The men were heavily laden with rations, ammunition, blankets, and tents, and all the paraphernalia of the infantry soldier. The roads were execrable and the marching was weari- some. It was a forced march, as the object was to suc- cor and relieve the besieged army at Knoxville. The first evening the command covered four miles and bivouacked after dark. The Eighty-sixth, however, did not have the pleasure of sharing the bivouac with the command, it being detailed for picket. Performing picket duty while on a march is what might be considered doing double duty, but then it was one of the "diversions" in the life of soldiers. The evening was pleasant but as the night advanced it became quite cold and all who were at all exposed were thoroughly chilled.
Sunday morning, November 29, the regiment was up by 1 o'clock, and after a hasty meal was soon ready for another day's tiresome dragging through the mud. Resumed the march about daylight, but little progress was made because of so many halts. About noon the command halted for dinner. The march was resumed at 1 o'clock, and shortly afterward crossed the South Chickamauga creek. The pace was still moderate and continued so until about one hour before sun- down, when it was quickened, and the regiment marched rap-
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idly forward. The roads were muddy, but mud was not to be considered. Nothing was to be thought of only to attain the highest rate of speed possible and maintain it. The reg- iment went splashing along through the mud like so many wild horses, wading streams knee-deep and deeper, stopping for no obstacle, halting for no rest it pressed forward until the sweat ran from every pore, notwithstanding the night was cold. This rate of speed was maintained until 9 o'clock, when the command arrived at Harrison, twelve miles from Chattanooga, and bivouacked. The men were wet to their trunks by plunging into mud holes and wading streams. Their bodies were heated and damp with perspiration from their great exertion, and these unfavorable conditions caused them to suffer intensely from the cold as soon as the halt was called. In fact, they were nearly frozen before fires could be started to warm and dry their clothing. But finally the fires burned brightly and the coffee boiled. After supper the fortunate ones sat round the bivouac fires, and parched corn and ate it for an hour or so before retiring in order to economize their scant supply of rations.
On the following morning the bugles sounded reveille at 4 o'clock, and the regiment's bivouac was soon lit up by the bright fires, and dark forms could be seen flitting here and there preparing the morning meal for the various messes. The morning was clear and cold. The column set forward at the appointed time. The whole force went forward with all the speed possible, and it was maintained until the endur- ance of all was taxed to the uttermost. Many fell behind their comrades. Excellent time was made. An occasional halt was allowed for a brief rest, else the speed could not have been so long maintained over such roads. A brief halt at noon for dinner revived and refreshed many who would otherwise have been unable to keep their place in the column. Bad as the roads were General Wood's division covered twenty-four miles during the day. All were tired, stiff, and sore when camp was reached. To add to the exhaustion of the men, rails for fuel had to be carried a long distance. Weary as they were some of the boys had the pluck to gather
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