One of Morgan's Men. John M. Porter
Lloyd Tilghman within seventy-nine minutes. Grant disembarked his land forces at Fort Henry and moved them twelve miles east to besiege Fort Donelson, situated on the west bank of the Cumberland River, while a fleet of gunboats ascended the Cumberland from Smithland, Kentucky, to bombard the fort. General Johnston called upon Buckner, with elements of his division then at Russellville, Kentucky, to reinforce Fort Donelson while the rest of the Confederate army evacuated Kentucky. Buckner ordered John M. Porter to accompany him. Porter thus found himself in Fort Donelson.
Grant's army arrived in front of the outer works of Fort Donelson on February 12. In command of the Confederate forces there, about 18,000 strong, was Brigadier General John B. Floyd of Virginia. Brigadier General Gideon J. Pillow of Tennessee and General Buckner commanded the two divisions forming the garrison. The Confederate lines extended more than three miles, from just east of Dover, Tennessee, on the river, all the way around Fort Donelson to nearly one mile west of it, also on the river.
The Confederate defenders turned back a Federal naval assault on February 14. Confederate ground assaults on February 15 actually broke through the Federal lines and gained possession of the Charlotte and Forge roads to Nashville, but General Pillow ordered the troops withdrawn. That night General Pillow and General Floyd left the fort, fearing what would happen to them if captured, leaving General Buckner to surrender the garrison. The surrender conference took place on February 16 in the Dover Tavern, Buckner's headquarters in Dover, Tennessee, between Buckner and Grant, former classmates at the U.S. Military Academy. Grant demanded that Buckner surrender “unconditionally,” which Buckner reluctantly agreed to do. Porter became a prisoner of war. General Johnston withdrew his Confederate forces from Kentucky altogether. They first occupied Nashville and then Murfreesboro, Tennessee.
It became necessary toward the last of December 1861, around Christmas, to strengthen the Confederate forces at Fort Henry on the Tennessee River and Fort Donelson on the Cumberland River, both of which were menaced by Federal troops. General Buckner moved with a few thousand men to Russellville. The ostensible object of the move was to be in a position from which he could move, as soon as the roads were passable, to attack Brigadier General Thomas L. Crittenden, then in command of a considerable force of the enemy at Calhoun, on the Green River. But the real purpose was to be within aiding distance of Fort Donelson, if it should become necessary to reinforce that position.1
The wisdom and necessity of this movement was soon made obvious. Already, the enemy had profited by some experience and resorted to famous flank movements, the only way for them to force General Johnston from his position at Bowling Green. A formidable fleet of vessels under the command of Flag Officer Andrew Foote and a large Federal army under Brigadier General Ulysses S. Grant, in February 1862, ascended the Cumberland River for the purpose of reducing Fort Donelson. Brigadier General Lloyd Tilghman had been forced to surrender the Confederate forces at Fort Henry on the Tennessee River, only twelve miles west of Fort Donelson. The rivers were only some twelve miles apart at those points. Upon General Buckner learning that the Federals were moving on Fort Donelson, he moved his command from Russellville as expeditiously as possible to the fort, which was destined, in a few days, to witness bloody and terrible scenes.
Before General Buckner left Bowling Green, he detached from the “Guides” Joseph S. Gray, Dempsey Burton Bailey, Thomas Robinson, J. W. Rasdell, Reuben M. Johnson and myself, to proceed with him to Russellville. After remaining for two or three weeks at Russellville, scouting very often in the vicinity of the enemy at Calhoun and South Carrollton, we were ordered to move with the army to Fort Donelson. Arriving at Clarksville, we halted a few days, and then, crossing the Cumberland River on coal barges, we proceeded over the rough country to the fort, where we arrived on Wednesday, February twelfth, at about two o'clock in the afternoon.2
The fight had already begun, but only the cavalry had been engaged, commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest. For some two or three hours before we got there, we had heard the firing and knew that the crisis was at hand, and we eagerly hurried forward to take part in whatever might occur. The Federal lines were closing in on every side, and but little space intervened between the Federal right wing and the Confederate left, which reached to the river. Through that narrow space on the Confederate left, growing still narrower every hour, we rode, and when once inside the lines of the Confederates, we then appreciatedthe situation. The Cumberland River, very high from recent rains, was in our rear, and an army three times the size of our own was in our front, extending from a point on the river below the fort, in a semi-circular form, to a point on the river above it. Added to this was a large fleet of vessels just down the river, ready to advance and bombard the fort and reduce it by their enormous guns. This was the situation of affairs.3
Brigadier General Ulysses S. Grant as he appeared in the winter and early spring of 1862. (Library of Congress.)
Our troops were disposed in excellent order, and through the openings in the woods could be seen the movements of the enemy as if in confusion and haste. The country there is very broken, hill after hill arises in irregular order, with timber upon all the soil. From one hill I could see the enemy upon another, a deep hollow between, with a thick abatis separating the hostile forces. The weather for a few days previous had been pleasant, but on the night of the twelfth it became extremely cold, and on the morning of the thirteenth our army found itself half frozen, with the enemy in large numbers just in front.4
Our line extended in a semi-circular form from the fort below to a point on the Cumberland River, above the town of Dover, Tennessee. The arc was about three miles in length; the river was in a swollen stage in the background. The line of the enemy assumed the same shape, their left resting on the river below our right, and connecting with their fleet of gunboats and transports; their right wing was above our left and rested on the head of a slough which ran at right angles to the river. The little town of Dover at once became full of bustle and confusion, which was greatly increased about dark on the evening of the twelfth, by a few shots from the enemy's batteries upon land which came whistling through the air, some striking houses, some going beyond the town and plunging in the angry waters of the river, some falling in the rifle pits among the soldiers or plowing up the ground nearby. The night became quiet after a time. During the long weary hours nothing was heard, save now and then a shot from the faithful sentinels ever on the alert.
It was extremely cold, and in the early hours of the night a gentle snow fell. The ground was frozen hard. I think it was the brave and daring Thomas Robinson and Dempsey Burton Bailey who, with myself, threw a blanket over a brush pile, and, by tearing away an opening large enough, crept under it and occupied a very small space. There we passed the night in a freezing way, not more than ten paces from our works. Ever and anon during the long and dreadful night the sharp reports of firearms told us that the enemy too was out on his line of defense.5
Slowly and gloomily the hours passed away. Morning came and we arose from our bed to look upon our first battlefield. The batteries of the Confederates under the command of Captain Rice E. Graves and Captain Thomas K. Porter had been placed in fine positions, and about this time sent forth their first hostile greetings toward the enemy. Ere long, the conflict began, and, for the first time, but by no means the last, we heard the music of the battlefield, the buzzing of small balls, the screaming of shells, the rumbling explosion and the shrieks of the unfortunate. One would almost have to ask himself if he were not dreaming before he could at first realize the situation. It was no dream, but a reality, a contest between Freedom and Tyranny. It was a shock of arms in which right was battling against wrong. The day wore on. We gained it. Would that we could have maintained it.6
Friday the fourteenth came, clear though cold; still, the snow in a measure had disappeared. No general fighting occurred during the day along the line, only skirmishing and sharpshooting. Attention was directed away from the front and centered on the river and the fort. The gunboats were ascending to attack the fort. Would it be able to repel the attack? That was the all important question. It did repel the attack. The close of the day showed two or three of the vessels disabled, and all of them driven off; they retired to a secure spot down the river out of reach of the guns of the fort. The night passed