UNION CAMP, BOWLING GREEN, KY.
From a lithograph. On the hill are seen the Confederate fortifications that were erected by General Buchner.
PITTSBURG LANDING.
Viewed from the ferry landing on the opposite shore. (From a photograph taken in 1885.)
the development of the plan of battle. In all the seeming confusion there was the predominance of intelligent design; a master mind, keeping in clear view its purpose, sought the weak point in the defense, and, by massing his troops upon the enemy’s left, kept turning that flank. With the disadvantage of inferior numbers, General Johnston brought to bear a superior force on each particular point, and, by a series of rapid and powerful blows, broke the Federal army to pieces.
Now was the time for the Confederates to push their advantage, and, closing in on the rear of Prentiss and Wallace, to finish the battle. But, on the contrary, there came a lull in the conflict on the right, lasting more than an hour from half-past 2, the time at which General Johnston fell. It is true that the Federals fell back and left the field, making some desultory resistance, and the Confederates went forward deliberately, occupying their positions, and thus helping to envelop the Federal center; but Breckinridge’s two brigades did not make another charge that day, and there was no further general direction or concerted movement. The determinate purpose to capture Grant that day was lost sight of. The strong arm was withdrawn, and the bow remained unbent. Elsewhere there were bloody, desultory combats, but they tended to nothing.
About half-past 3 the contest, which had throbbed with fitful violence for five hours, was renewed with the utmost fury. While an ineffectual struggle was going on at the center, a number of batteries opened upon Prentiss’s right flank, the center of what remained of the Federals. The opening of so heavy a fire, and the simultaneous though unconcerted advance of the whole Confederate line, resulted at first in the confusion of the enemy, and then in the death of W. H. L. Wallace and the surrender of Prentiss.
said to him, “We must go to the left, where the firing is heaviest,” and then gave him an order, which O’Hara rode off to obey. Governor Harris returned, and, finding him very pale, asked him, “General, are you wounded?” He answered, in a very deliberate and emphatic tone: “Yes, and, I fear, seriously.” These were his last words. Harris and Wickham led his horse back under cover of the hill, and lifted him from it. They searched at random for the wound, which had cut an artery in his leg, the blood flowing into his boot. When his brother-in-law, Preston, lifted his head, and addressed him with passionate grief, he smiled faintly, but uttered no word. His life rapidly ebbed away, and in a few moments he was dead.
His wound was not necessarily fatal. General Johnston’s own knowledge of military surgery was adequate for its control by an extemporized tourniquet had he been aware or regardful of its nature. Dr. D. W. Yandell, his surgeon, had attended his person during most of the morning; but, finding a large number of wounded men, including many Federals, at one point, General Johnston had ordered Yandell to stop there, establish a hospital, and give them his services. He said to Yandell : “ These men were our enemies a moment ago; they are our prisoners now. Take care of them.” Yandell remonstrated against leaving him, but he was peremptory. Had Yandell remained with him, he would have had little difficulty with the wound.
Governor Harris, and others of General Johnston’s staff, promptly informed General Beauregard of his death, and General Beauregard assumed command, remaining at Shiloh Church, awaiting the issue of events.
Up to the moment of the death of the commander-in-chief, in spite of the dislocation of the commands, there was the most perfect regularity in
this be my share of the spoils to-day.” It was this plaything which, holding it between two fingers, he employed more effectively in his natural and simple gesticulation than most men could have used a sword. His presence was full of inspiration. He sat his thoroughbred bay, “ Fire-eater,” with easy command. His voice was persuasive, encouraging, and compelling. His words were few; he said: “Men! they are stubborn; we must use the bayonet.” When he reached the center of the line, he tui-ned. “I will lead you!” he cried, and moved toward the enemy. The line was already thrilling and trembling with that irresistible ardor which in battle decides the day. With a mighty shout 'Bowen’s and Statham’s brigades moved forward at a charge. A sheet of flame and a mighty roar burst from the Federal stronghold. The Confederate line withered; but there was not an instant’s pause. The crest was gained. The enemy were in flight.
THE DEATH OF GENERAL JOHNSTON.
General Johnston had passed through the ordeal seemingly unhurt. His horse was shot in four places; his clothes were pierced by missiles ; his boot-sole was cut and tom by a Mini¿; but if he himself had received any severe wound, he did not know it. At this moment Governor Harris rode up from the right. After a few words, General Johnston sent him with an order to Colonel Stat-ham, which having delivered, he speedily returned. In the mean time, knots and groups of Federal soldiers kept up a desultory fire as they retreated upon their supports, and their last line, now yielding, delivered volley after volley as they sullenly retired. By the chance of war, a Minie ball from one of these did its fatal work. As he sat there, after Ms wound, Captain Wickham says that Colonel O’Hara, of his staff, rode up, and General Johnston
under a murderous cross-fire, but fell back in good order, and, later in the day, came in on Breckinridge’s left in the last assault when Prentiss was captured. This bloody fray lasted till nearly 4 o’clock, without making any visible impression on the Federal center. But when its flanks were turned, these assaulting columns, crowding in on its front, aided in its capture.
General Johnston was with the right of Statham’s brigade, confronting the left of Hurlbut’s division, which was behind the crest of a hill, with a depression filled with chaparral in its front. Bowen’s brigade was further to the right in line with Statham’s, touching it near this point. The Confederates held the parallel ridge in easy musket-range ; and “ as heavy fire as I ever saw during the war,” says Governor Harris, was kept up on both sides for an hour or more. It was necessary to cross the valley raked by this deadly ambuscade and assail the opposite ridge in order to drive the enemy from his stronghold. When General Johnston came up and saw the situation, he said to his staff: “ They are offering stubborn resistance here. I shall have to put the bayonet to them.” It was the crisis of the conflict. The Federal key was in his front. If his assault were successful, their left would be completely turned, and the victory won. He determined to charge. He sent Governor Harris, of his staff, to lead a Tennessee regiment ; and, after a brief conference with Breckinridge, whom he loved and admired, that officer, followed by his staff, appealed to the soldiers. As he encouraged them with his fine voice and manly bearing, General Johnston rode out in front and slowly down the line. His hat was off. His sword rested in its scabbard. In his right hand he held a little tin cup, the memorial of an incident that had occurred earlier in the day. Passing through a captured camp, he had taken this toy, saying, “ Let