Life in Dixie during the War, 1861-1862-1863-1864-1865. Gay Mary Ann Harris
was then teaching at Corinth, Heard county, Georgia. It is dated:
“Near Dalton, May 5th, 1864.” After speaking of having to take charge early the next morning of the brigade picket guard, Thomie goes on to say:
“The sun’s most down, but I think I can fill these little pages before dark. Captain F., coming in at this time, tells me a dispatch has just been received to the effect that the Yankees are advancing in the direction of Tunnel Hill, but they have made so many feints in that direction lately that we have become used to them, so don’t become uneasy.
“The great revival is going on with widening and deepening interest. Last Sabbath I saw eighty-three immersed at the creek below our brigade. Four were sprinkled at the stand before going down to the creek, and two down there, making an aggregate within this vicinity of eighty-nine, while the same proportion, I suppose, are turning to God in other parts of the army, making the grand aggregate of many hundreds. Yesterday I saw sixty-five more baptized, forty more who were to have been there failing to come because of an order to be ready to move at any moment. They belong to a more distant brigade. * * If we do not move before Monday, Sabbath will be a day long to be remembered – ‘the water will,’ indeed, ‘be troubled.’ Should we remain three weeks longer, the glad tidings may go forth that the Army of Tennessee is the army of the Lord. But He knoweth best what is for our good, and if He sees proper can so order His providence as to keep us here. His will be done.”
The next letter is addressed to me, but was sent to my sister at my request, and is dated “Allatoona Mountains, Near Night, May 22nd.” He writes:
“Oh, it grieved my very soul when coming through the beautiful Oothcaloga valley, to think of the sad fate which awaited it when the foul invader should occupy that ‘vale of beauty.’ We formed line of battle at the creek, at the old Eads place; our brigade was to the left as you go up to Mr. Law’s old place on the hill, where we stayed once when pa was sick. Right here, with a thousand dear recollections of by-gone days crowding my mind, in the valley of my boyhood, I felt as if I could hurl a host back. We fought them and whipped them, until, being-flanked, we were compelled to fall back. We fought them again at Cass Station, driving them in our front, but, as before, and for the same reason, we were compelled to retreat.
“As I am requested to hold prayer-meeting this evening at sunset, I must close.”
Thomie’s next letter in this collection is addressed to his sister Missouri, who had returned home, and is headed, simply, “Army of Tennessee, May 31st.” It is written in a round, legible, but somewhat delicate hand, and gives no evidence of nervousness or hurry. To those fond of war history, it will be of special interest:
“Our brigade, in fact our division, is in a more quiet place now than since the commencement of this campaign. We were ordered from the battlefield on Sunday morning to go and take position in supporting distance of the left wing of the army, where we arrived about the middle of the forenoon, and remained there until yesterday evening, when our division was ordered back in rear of the left centre, where we are now. Contrary to all expectations, we have remained here perfectly quiet, there being no heavy demonstration by the enemy on either wing. We were very tired, and this rest has been a great help to us; for being a reserve and flanking division, we have had to trot from one end of the wing of the army to the other, and support other troops.
“Well, perhaps you would like to hear something from me of the battle of New Hope Church, on Friday evening, 27th inst. We had been, since the day before, supporting some other troops about the centre of the right wing, when, I suppose about 2 o’clock, we were hurried off to the extreme right to meet a heavy force of the enemy trying to turn our right. A few minutes later the whole army might now have been in the vicinity of Atlanta, but, as it was, we arrived in the nick of time, for before we were properly formed the enemy were firing into us rapidly. We fronted to them, however, and then commenced one of the hottest engagements, so far, of this campaign. We had no support, and just one single line against a whole corps of the enemy, and a lieutenant of the 19th Arkansas, wounded and captured by them, and subsequently retaken by our brigade, stated that another corps of the enemy came up about sundown. The fighting of our men, to those who admire warfare, was magnificent. You could see a pleasant smile playing upon the countenances of many of the men, as they would cry out to the Yankees, ‘Come on, we are demoralized!’
“One little incident right here, so characteristic of the man. Major Kennard (of whom I have told you often, lately promoted), was, as usual, encouraging the men by his battle-cry of, ‘Put your trust in God, men, for He is with us,’ but concluding to talk to the Yankees awhile, sang out to them, ‘Come on, we are demoralized,’ when the Major was pretty severely wounded in the head, though not seriously; raising himself up, he said:
“‘Boys, I told them a lie, and I believe that is the reason I got shot.’
“The fighting was very close and desperate, and lasted until after dark. About 11 o’clock at night, three regiments of our brigade charged the enemy, our regiment among them. We went over ravines, rocks, almost precipices, running the enemy entirely off the field. We captured many prisoners, and all of their dead and many of their wounded fell into our hands. This charge was a desperate and reckless thing, and if the enemy had made any resistance they could have cut us all to pieces. I hurt my leg slightly in falling down a cliff of rocks, and when we started back to our original line of battle I thought I would go back alone and pick my way; so I bore off to the left, got lost, and completely bewildered between two armies. I copy from my journal:
“‘Here I was, alone in the darkness of midnight, with the wounded, the dying, the dead. What an hour of horror! I hope never again to experience such. I am not superstitious, but the great excitement of seven hours of fierce conflict, ending with a bold, and I might say reckless, charge – for we knew not what was in our front – and then left entirely alone, causes a mental and physical depression that for one to fully appreciate he must be surrounded by the same circumstances. My feelings in battle were nothing to compare to this hour. After going first one way and then another, and not bettering my case, I heard some one slipping along in the bushes. I commanded him to halt, and inquired what regiment he belonged to, and was answered, ‘15th Wisconsin,’ so I took Mr. Wisconsin in, and ordered him to march before me – a nice pickle for me then, had a prisoner and did not know where to go. Moved on, however, and finally heard some more men walking, hailed them, for I had become desperate, and was answered, ‘Mississippians.’ Oh, how glad I was! The moon at this time was just rising, and, casting her pale silvery rays through the dense woods, made every tree and shrub look like a spectre. I saw a tall, muscular Federal lying dead and the moonlight shining in his face. His eyes were open and seemed to be riveted on me. I could not help but shudder. I soon found my regiment, and ‘Richard was himself again.’
“I went out again to see if I could do anything for their wounded. Soon found one with his leg shot through, whom I told we would take care of. Another, shot in the head, was crying out continually; ‘Oh, my God! oh, my God!!’ I asked him if we could do anything for him, but he replied that it would be of no use. I told him God would have mercy upon him, but his mind seemed to be wandering. I could not have him taken care of that night, and, poor fellow, there he lay all night.
“The next morning I had the privilege of walking over the whole ground, and such a scene! Here lay the wounded, the dying, and the dead, hundreds upon hundreds, in every conceivable position; some with contorted features, showing the agony of death, others as if quietly sleeping. I noticed some soft beardless faces which ill comported with the savage warfare in which they had been engaged. Hundreds of letters from mothers, sisters, and friends were found upon them, and ambrotypes, taken singly and in groups. Though they had been my enemies, my heart bled at the sickening scene. The wounded nearly all expressed themselves tired of the war.
“For the numbers engaged upon our side, it is said to be the greatest slaughter of the enemy of any recent battle. Captain Hearne, the old adjutant of our regiment, was killed. Eight of our regiment were instantly killed; two mortally wounded, since dead.
“I did not think of writing so much when I began, but it is the first opportunity of writing anything like a letter that I have had. Lieutenant McMurray is now in charge of the Texas hospital at Auburn, Alabama.
“Well,