General Nelson's Scout 40

General Nelson's Scout 40

But there was one general in the Federal army who was uneasy, he hardly

knew why. He was little known at the time, he never held a

distinguished command afterward; yet it was by his vigilance that the

Federal army was saved from surprise, perhaps from capture. This general

was Prentiss. A vague idea that something was wrong haunted him. The

ominous silence in front oppressed him, as something to be feared. Then

on Saturday a curious fact occurred. An unusual number of squirrels and

rabbits were noticed dodging through the line, and they were all headed

in one direction--toward Pittsburg Landing. What had startled them? It

set General Prentiss thinking.

 

To guard more surely against surprise Prentiss posted his pickets a mile

and a half in front of his lines, an unusual distance. At three o'clock

Sunday morning he sent three companies of the Twenty-fifth Missouri out

on a reconnoitering expedition. These three companies followed a road

that obliqued to the right, and a little after daylight met the enemy's

advance in front of Sherman's division. Thus the battle of Shiloh

opened.

 

When the first shots were fired, Preston Johnston, son of the

Confederate commander, looked at his watch, and it was just fourteen

minutes past five o'clock.

 

This little advance band must have made a brave fight, for Major

Hardcastle, in command of the Confederate outposts, reports that he

fought a thousand men an hour. It was after six o'clock when the general

advance of the whole Confederate army commenced, and the pickets along

the line of Prentiss' and Sherman's divisions were driven in. Preston

Johnston states that it was seven o'clock when the first cannon shot was

fired. It was eight o'clock before the engagement became general along

the whole line, and at that time portions of Prentiss' division had been

fighting for nearly three hours.

 

General Grant was at breakfast in Savannah, nine miles away, when he was

startled by the booming of cannon in the direction of Shiloh. Hastily

writing an order to General Nelson to procure a guide and march his

division up the river to a point opposite Pittsburg Landing, Grant left

his breakfast half-eaten, and boarding his dispatch boat was soon

steaming up the river. His fear was that the isolated division of

General Lewis Wallace, which lay at Crump's Landing, had been attacked.

Finding this not to be the case when he reached Crump's, he bade Wallace

hold his division in readiness and to await orders, and steamed on.

 

The roar of cannon had become almost continuous. Turning to Rawlins, his

chief-of-staff, Grant said:

 

"Rawlins, I am afraid this is a general attack. I did not expect it.

Prentiss' and Sherman's divisions are in front, and both are composed of

raw troops; but if we can hold them until Wallace and Nelson come we are

all right."

 

"It is a pity you did not order Wallace up when you were there,"

answered Rawlins.

 

"Yes," answered Grant, "but I couldn't make up my mind it was a general

attack. I am not entirely sure yet."

 

"It sounds very much like it," replied Rawlins, grimly.

 

When Grant reached the landing the battle was raging furiously, and all

doubts as to its being a general attack were removed from his mind.

Already the vanguard of what was afterward an army of panic-stricken men

had commenced gathering under the river bank.

 

A staff officer was sent back immediately to order General Wallace to

come at once. Grant then set to work quickly to do what he could to stem

the tide, which was already turning against him. Two or three regiments

which had just landed he ordered to points where they were the most

needed. He then rode the entire length of the line, encouraging his

generals, telling them to stand firm until Wallace and Nelson came, and

all would be well.

 

He found Sherman engaged in a terrific conflict. Some of his regiments

had broken at the first fire, and fled panic-stricken to the Landing.

Sherman was straining every nerve to hold his men firm. Oblivious of

danger, he rode amid the storm of bullets unmoved, encouraging,

pleading, threatening, as the case might be. Grant cautioned him to be

careful, and not expose himself unnecessarily, but Sherman answered: "If

I can stem the tide by sacrificing my life, I will willingly do it."

 

Then turning to Grant, he said, with feeling: "General, I did not

expect this; forgive me."

 

"Forgive you for what?" asked Grant, in surprise.

 

"I am your senior general," answered Sherman. "You depended on me for

reports; I quieted your fears. I reported there was no danger of an

attack. I couldn't believe it this morning until my orderly was shot by

my side, and I saw the long lines of the enemy sweeping forward. Forgive

me."

 

Grant was greatly moved. "There is nothing to forgive," he said, gently.

"The mistake is mine as well as yours. Neither did I expect this attack.

If I had, I could have had Buell here. As it is, Wallace and Nelson will

soon be here, and we will whip them; never fear."

 

"God grant it!" fervently replied Sherman.

 

By ten o'clock Prentiss had been pushed back clear through and beyond

his camp, and had taken position along a sunken road. General W. H. L.

Wallace's division came up and joined him on the right. This part of the

field was afterward known as the "Hornet's Nest."

 

Here Grant visited them, and seeing the strength of the position, told

them to hold it to the last man.

 

"We will," responded both Wallace and Prentiss.

 

Bravely did they keep that promise. For hours the Confederate lines beat

against them like the waves of the ocean, only to be flung back torn and

bleeding.

 

The roar of battle was now terrific. Both flanks of the Federal army

were bent back like a bow. Every moment the number of panic-stricken

soldiers under the bank grew larger.

 

Noon came, but no Lew Wallace, no Nelson. Turning to an aid, Grant said:

"Go for Wallace; bid him hurry, hurry."

 

Everywhere, except in the center, the Confederates were pressing the

Union lines back. But the desperate resistance offered surprised

Johnston; he had expected an easier victory. Many of his best regiments

had been cut to pieces. Thousands of his men had also fled to the rear.

The afternoon was passing; the fighting must be pressed.

 

A desperate effort was made to turn the Federal left flank, and thus

gain the Landing. Like iron Hurlbut's men stood, and time after time

hurled back the charging columns. At last the Confederates refused to

charge again. Then General Johnston placed himself at their head and

said: "I will lead you, my children."

 

The effect was electrical. With wild cheers his men pressed forward;

nothing could withstand the fury of the charge. The Federal left was

crushed, hurled back to the Landing in a torn, disorganized mass.

 

But the brave leader fell mortally wounded. For a time the Confederate

army stood as if appalled at its great loss. The thunder of battle died

away, only to break out here and there in fitful bursts. But the

respite was brief, and then came the final desperate onslaught.

 

With features as impassive as stone, Grant saw his army crumbling to

pieces. Officer after officer had been sent to see what had become of

General Lew Wallace; he should have been on the field hours before. With

anxious eyes Grant looked across the river to see if he could catch the

first fluttering banner of Nelson's division. There was no aid in sight.

 

An officer rides up, one of the messengers he had sent for Wallace.

Grant's face lights up. Wallace must be near. But, no. The officer

reports: "Wallace took the wrong road. I found him five miles further

from the Landing than when he started. Then he countermarched, instead

of hurrying forward left in front. He lost much precious time. Then he

is marching so slow, so slow. He will not be here before night."

 

For an instant a spasm of pain passed over Grant's face. "He

countermarched; coming slow," he said, as if to himself, "Great God,

what does he mean?" and then all was calm again.

 

Turning to Colonel Webster, he said: "Plant the siege guns around the

Landing. See that you have every available piece of artillery in

position."

 

And it was only this frowning line of artillery that stood between

Grant's army and utter rout.

 

"Have you any way of retreat mapped out?" asked General Buell of Grant.

Buell had come up from Savannah on a boat, and was now on the field,

viewing with consternation and alarm the tremendous evidences of

demoralization and defeat.

 

Turning to him as quick as a flash, Grant replied: "Retreat! retreat! I

have not yet despaired of victory."

 

Both the right and left wings of Grant's army were now crushed back from

the center. Around the flanks of W. H. L. Wallace's and Prentiss'

divisions the exultant Confederates poured. Well had Wallace and

Prentiss obeyed the orders of Grant to hold their position. From ten

o'clock in the forenoon until nearly five o'clock in the afternoon their

lines had hurled back every attack of the enemy. The Hornet's Nest stung

every time it was touched. But now the divisions were hemmed in on every

side. The brave Wallace formed his men to cut their way out, and as he

was cheering them on he fell mortally wounded. No better soldier than

Wallace fell on that bloody field. As for the two divisions, they were

doomed.

 

General Grant sits on his horse, watching the preparations for the last

stand. An officer, despair written in every lineament of his face, rides

up to him.

 

"General," he says, "Sherman reports that he has taken his last

position. He has but the remnant of one brigade with him and what

stragglers he has gathered. His slender line cannot withstand another

attack."

 

"Go back," quietly said Grant, "and tell Sherman to hold if possible;

night is most here."

 

McClernand's division had been standing bravely all day, and had

furnished fewer stragglers than any other division in the army, but now

an orderly with a pale face and his left arm resting in a bloody sling,

came spurring his reeking horse up to Grant, and exclaimed:

 

"General McClernand bade me report, that after his division had most

gallantly repulsed the last charge of the enemy, for some unaccountable

reason, the left regiments broke, and are fleeing panic-stricken to the Landing."