Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea Read online

  Southern Storm

  Sherman’s March to the Sea

  Noah Andre Trudeau

  Dedicated to the memory of Burke Davis (1913–2006).

  First on the ground to Appomattox

  and first with Sherman to the sea.

  Contents

  Preface

  Author’s Note

  List of Maps

  Part One: Preparation

  1 A Gathering of Eagles

  2 Captive Audiences

  3 The Stormbringer

  4 The Plan

  5 “Paradise of Fools”

  Part Two: Atlanta to Milledgeville, November 15—24

  6 “Dies Irae Filled the Air”

  7 “Lurid Flames Lit Up the Heavens”

  8 “Forage of All Kinds Abounds”

  9 “Arise for the Defense of Your Native Soil!”

  10 “Whites Look Sour & Sad”

  11 “Ugly Weather”

  12 “But Bless God, He Died Free!”

  13 “We ‘Shot Low and to Kill’”

  14 “The First Act Is Well Played”

  Part Three: Milledgeville to Millen, November 25—December 4

  15 “We Went for Them on the Run”

  16 “Poor Foolish Simpletons”

  17 “I Never Was So Frightened in All My Life”

  18 “Give Those Fellows a Start”

  Part Four: Millen to Savannah, December 5—10

  19 “Splendid Sight to See Cotton Gins Burn”

  Photographic Insert

  Part Five: Savannah, December 11—January 21

  20 “I Was Soon Covered with Blood from Head to Foot”

  21 “I Beg to Present You as a Christmas Gift the City of Savannah”

  22 “But What Next?”

  Part Six: Finale

  23 “The Blow Was Struck at the Right Moment and in the Right Direction”

  Union Forces Roster

  Confederate Forces Roster

  Chapter Notes

  Bibliography

  Acknowledgments

  Searchable Terms

  About the Author

  Other Books by Noah Andre Trudeau

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Preface

  On December 21, 1864, two young men—hardened for military campaigning and always ready for adventure—crossed paths in the main office of the New York Herald. Each was an experienced reporter just returned from a major campaign. John Edward Parker (“Jep”) Doyle had marched with Sherman from Atlanta to the sea. David Power Conyngham had been at Nashville when George H. Thomas had wrecked John B. Hood’s Rebel army. Both had vivid stories to tell, stories that would soon be conveyed in the Herald’s tightly packed columns for days to come. As was common practice in that day, small-market papers clipped and pasted the coverage in their own sheets, so these accounts would circulate well beyond the New York area. By then Conyngham and Doyle had returned to the front (both now with Sherman) to pick up the story and carry it through to the end.

  Even before the dramatic year 1865 was over, a book would appear that offered a striking narrative of Sherman’s campaign across Georgia, one that was rich with detail and well supplied with lively anecdotes and character sketches. The book almost immediately became the template for all subsequent accounts of this operation, with a staying power that is impressive. One distinguished scholar, writing just after the United States marked its Civil War centennial, proclaimed it an “indispensable volume for anyone studying Sherman’s famous campaign,” and it has appeared in Sherman biographical bibliographies extending into the twenty-first century. Its author was David Power Conyngham.

  Make no mistake, Conyngham did his homework. He drew from accounts penned by fellow correspondents who had been with the march, and he used his personal contacts among the army’s officer corps to fill in the spaces. Save for the fact that he was not actually present for the scenes he so vividly describes as a firsthand participant, Conyngham’s account had sufficient truth about it that generations of later writers turned to it as the real thing.

  Thus, from the very beginning, the story of Sherman’s March to the Sea was once removed from primary sources and subject to the dramatic sculpting of a skilled adapter. From that first subtly false step, the saga of the March to the Sea was catapulted into the realm of myth and legend.

  Everyone knows Sherman’s March. Just to say the words is to select from a list of mental images of destructiveness, raw power, civil terror, and youthful adventure whose choice depends a great deal on where one encountered Civil War 101. Many of the memoirs of actual military participants compound the problem rather than resolve it. The most successful compress events into a narrative that is often generalized as to time or place, and which often combines several incidents into one. The most enduring memoirs of Sherman’s March represent a personal condensation, simplification, and intensification of what was actually experienced. It is on this ever so slightly distorted foundation of reality that the widely understood story of Sherman’s March rests.

  In the pages that follow I have attempted to compensate for that distortion. I have relied heavily on actual diaries and period letters from participants military and civilian. Taken individually, most of these diaries are unremarkable, some downright boring. Cumulatively, however, a wealth of little details emerge that helped me sharpen the viewfinder. I quickly realized that some of the official reports, especially those for the cavalry operations on both sides, were not to be taken at face value. Throughout my treatment of these movements and actions, I relied on available diaries and letters to keep things honest, to which I added healthy doses of what I hoped was common sense.

  Sherman, too, despite an outspokenness that often passes for frankness, needed to be handled with care. Here, fortunately, I had the invaluable journals of Henry Hitchcock, George Nichols, and others on the General’s staff to balance things. The fine selection of contemporary dispatches written in the field that are found in the official records further helped me determine what Sherman knew and when he knew it. The standard story has the General fixed on his objective from the moment his legions departed Atlanta; in reality, he kept his options open until he finally had to commit himself in early December. Instead of an exercise of predestination, I approached this as any other military campaign, subject to all the uncertainties and improvisations that such implies.

  One source you will see indirectly acknowledged in the bibliography is the network of narrative historical markers erected over the years along the various routes of Sherman’s operation. Graced by texts and research provided by two able Georgia historians—Wilbur G. Kurtz Sr. and Allen P. Julian—they contain countless little details regarding roads taken or residences visited. Sadly, many were missing when I passed through, others had been relocated, but the texts for all have been preserved. Even as I write this, the state of Georgia is constructing a new series of markers as part of a heritage trail. From the preliminary materials I have seen, it promises to be a significant addition to our understanding of the March to the Sea.

  A part of the saga that interested me very much was the weather story. The generalized narratives I encountered seemed to suggest sunshine and blue skies for the entire journey. Yet daily logs kept by participants told a very different story. In the process of trying to make sense out of those entries, I found that even the most mundane diary of Sherman’s March usually had some things to say about the weather on a given day. When I indexed these together and compiled them chronologically, I realized that on any given twenty-four-hour period I had a dozen or more weather observations. To be sure, the data were
subjective (“cold,” “warm,” “cool,” or “hot” for temperature, for instance), but when they were taken as a group, a consensus of weather conditions emerged and became part of my story. Based on the information in those diaries, I calculated the temperature ranges you will see for each day of the march.

  A fair number of diary entries for soldiers taking part in this campaign are best summarized with the phrase: “Nothing of interest to report.” Yet when one takes into account the totality of the fifty or so diaries with entries for a particular day, I never found that to be the case. I was continually amazed at the rich variety of small, personal stories that emerged. It is part of my hope that by following the march from day to day, and fitting these stories into the fabric of the whole, a more truthful narrative of events will emerge. I hope too that it is a more compelling one.

  Author’s Note

  A basic understanding of Civil War military organization, tactics, and weapons is assumed in the text that follows, so a brief primer may not be out of place here. For the most part, the military forces of each side were organized along the same hierarchy: in descending order of size, corps, divisions, brigades, regiments, and companies. The Union forces engaged in the Savannah Campaign were organized along traditional lines. Like their cobelligerents in the east, those in the west tended to follow a numbering system (e.g., Seventeenth Corps, First Division, Second Brigade) and when I am referring to those units with the names of their commanders I have not capitalized the result (e.g., Geary’s division, Carmen’s brigade). Regiments are always referred to by their number and state, such as the 4th Minnesota. The Confederate organization in this campaign was much more problematical. It represented an ad hoc mix of “regular” Confederate States units (mostly belonging to Wheeler’s cavalry corps) and Georgia state units, which were themselves of various kinds. The Confederate roster at the end of this book does not reflect an actual table of organization at any part of the campaign, but is simply a means of visually organizing the disparate commands that at one time or another and in one way or another, between November 15 and December 21, 1864, got in Sherman’s path.

  The two essential unit formations, at least as far as this book is concerned, are column and line. Column is a marching formation; usually three or four abreast, a column packed a regiment into as compact a space as practicable for rapid movement along a road or across open ground. Once engaged in combat, columns transformed into lines of battle, usually at least two, sometimes three with the third a reserve. The ends of a line were its flanks; the process of bending back a segment of the line so that the men stood at an angle to their original orientation was called refusing the flank.

  The standard combat formation relied on a massing of rifles and the resultant firepower for its effect. Often positioned in advance of the compact lines of battle were more widely dispersed and irregular detachments known as skirmish lines. Most references to the soldiers involved in this duty are as skirmishers; sometimes I employ the word voltigeurs—a French equivalent. During periods of rest, Civil War military units were usually surrounded by a ring of armed outposts called a picket line. The function of these small detachments was to provide security to the encampment and serve as a tripwire against any enemy effort to surprise the main body. These soldiers are chiefly referred to pickets, though sometimes I use the term videttes.

  Directional references in the text are always from the point of view of the side under discussion. When it comes to spelling from original, especially manuscript, sources, I have used my variable rule to eliminate the qualifier sic from the text. Where I feel a particular spelling conveys a vivid sense of character, I have preserved the original; otherwise I have exercised some judicious editorial cleaning up of manuscript passages.

  Maps

  Options

  Hood and Sherman: September–November 1864

  Tuesday, November 15, 1864

  Wednesday, November 16, 1864

  Thursday, November 17, 1864

  Pontoon Bridge

  Friday, November 18, 1864

  Saturday, November 19, 1864

  Sunday, November 20, 1864

  Dunlap’s Hill: November 20, 1864

  Monday, November 21, 1864

  Tuesday, November 22, 1864

  Macon-Griswoldville

  Griswoldville: 2:30 P.M.

  Griswoldville: 5:00–6:00 P.M.

  Wednesday/Thursday, November 23/November 24, 1864

  Friday, November 25, 1864

  Saturday, November 26, 1864

  Sunday, November 27, 1864

  Monday, November 28, 1864

  Tuesday, November 29, 1864

  Wednesday, November 30, 1864

  Thursday, December 1, 1864

  Friday, December 2, 1864

  Saturday, December 3, 1864

  Sunday, December 4, 1864

  Waynesboro: December 4, 1864

  Monday, December 5, 1864

  Tuesday, December 6, 1864

  Wednesday, December 7, 1864

  Thursday, December 8, 1864

  Friday, December 9, 1864

  Savannah Lines

  Right Wing, December 13, 1864

  Fort McAllister: December 13, 1864

  December 16, 1864

  PART ONE

  Preparation

  CHAPTER 1

  A Gathering of Eagles

  The Central of Georgia Railroad station platform was empty when Confederate president Jefferson Davis arrived in Macon, Georgia, at 4:00 A.M., September 24, 1864. It had been an arduous, roundabout trip for Davis and his aides, involving at least three train changes and innumerable delays. Nothing had been communicated in advance of the president’s arrival, so as the busy city roused itself to face another day, it did so ignorant that the most powerful individual of the world’s youngest nation was in its midst.

  The presidential party, departing the hushed station without a fuss, went to the home of Howell Cobb. A former U.S. congressman and secretary of the treasury (for James Buchanan), as well as a general who fought under Robert E. Lee in the east, Cobb was presently commanding Georgia’s “minute man” reserve. It was a time of crisis for the Confederacy, which had suffered the loss of Atlanta—an important manufacturing center and transportation hub—just twenty-three days earlier. Now Davis had journeyed from Richmond, Virginia, as he later recollected, with a “view to judging the situation better and then determining after personal inspection the course which should seem best to pursue.”

  Likely during his Macon visit, Davis and Cobb (whom he considered a “pure patriot”) discussed what to do about the man they both viewed as the main obstacle to Confederate success in Georgia, the state’s governor, Joseph E. Brown. An outspoken and popular figure, Brown had come to represent an extreme position in the ongoing conflict between the imperative needs of a centralized government and the rights of its constituent states.

  Even as a nascent Confederacy struggled to maintain its military resources to survive, Brown was equally active protecting what he termed the “sovereignty of the State against usurpation.” Whether it was reclassifying Georgia government jobs to immunize them from the national draft, or requisitioning military supplies slated for export, Brown was a constant irritant to the Davis administration. While Cobb did not agree with many Davis policies, he understood that the defeat of Confederate aspirations meant an end to Georgia’s sovereignty as well, and his frustration with Brown’s obstructions led him to denounce the governor as “a traitor, a Tory.” Cobb’s anger had a special urgency, for unless there was a dramatic change in the war situation, he knew that his state’s future would be too terrible to contemplate.

  Davis had been settled at Cobb’s only a few hours when an ad hoc committee of local notables invited him to speak that very morning at a mass meeting previously scheduled to raise money for Atlanta refugees. Davis agreed. The crowd gathered at the Baptist church greeted the fifty-six-year-old Confederate symbol with what a reporter present termed “prolonged applau
se.” Those close to the front of the room saw a proud, determined man worn down by having to carry too much on his slim shoulders. The words of a woman who saw him just a few days earlier likely found variations in the thoughts of those present: “poor man he pays for his honors.” But when Davis spoke, there was no softening of his steely defiance or iron resolve.

  Fully aware of all the recent reverses suffered by the Confederacy, Davis assured the crowd, “Our cause is not lost.” While an enemy force may have captured Atlanta, it was also now isolated deep within the South, wholly dependent upon a single rail line to Chattanooga to keep it supplied. Once the moment arrived when the Yankee army had to abandon Atlanta—and it would—Southern “cavalry and our people will harass and destroy it.” In a purposely ambiguous reference, Davis mocked an unnamed individual who had accused the Confederate president of abandoning “Georgia to her fate.” This person, Davis declared, “was not a man to save our country.” Then came some plain talk: Georgia could expect little if any help from outside the state in the present crisis. What was needed at this critical time was for Southern women to endure their privations with stoic courage, and for every patriotic male to flock to the colors. “If one-half the men now absent [from the army] without leave will return to duty, we can defeat the enemy,” Davis assured those present. “Let no one despond,” he finished. “Let none distrust, and remember that if genius is the beautiful, hope is the reality.”

  The next day Davis traveled to Palmetto, some twenty-five miles southwest of enemy-occupied Atlanta; headquarters for General John B. Hood, commanding the Confederate Army of Tennessee. Hood was a wounded lion if ever there was one. Once a vigorous, vital man, he had been cruelly whittled down by the war, his left arm crippled while leading troops at Gettysburg in July 1863, and his right leg amputated below the thigh from fighting at Chickamauga the following September. A society matron who met him around that time thought he had “the [sad] face of an old crusader who believed in his cause, his cross and his crown.” It was during Hood’s painful recuperation spent in Richmond that he had visited often with Davis. The two found common ground and established a rapport.