WALLACE’S DIVISION.
Hurlbut’s companion division—that of Brigadier-General W. H. L. Wallace, included the Second and Seventh Iowa, Ninth and Twenty-eighth Illinois, and several of the other regiments composing Major-General Smith’s old division. Wallace had also three excellent batteries—Stone’s, Richardson’s and Weber’s, all from Missouri.
With him, too, the fight began about ten o’clock, as already described. From that time till four in the afternoon his troops bore up manfully. The musketry fire was absolutely continuous; there was scarcely a moment that some part of the line was not pouring in their rattling volleys, and the artillery sent forth its death-thunders with but little intermission through the entire time.
Once or twice the infantry advanced, attempting to drive back the continually increasing enemy; but though they could hold their own ground, their numbers were unequal to the task of conquering more.
Four separate times in turn the rebels attempted to charge on them. Each time the infantry poured in its quickest volleys, the artillery redoubled its exertions, and the rebels retreated with heavy slaughter. The division was eager to remain, even when Hurlbut fell back, and the noble fellows serving the guns were particularly indignant when compelled to silence their own batteries. But their supports were gone on both sides. It was madness to remain in isolated advance. Just as the necessity for retreating was becoming apparent, General Wallace, whose cool, collected bravery had commanded universal admiration, was, as it was believed, mortally wounded, and borne away from the field. At last the division fell back. Its soldiers claim the proud distinction of being the last to yield, in the general breaking up of the lines that gloomy Sunday afternoon.
Captain Stone could not resist the temptation of stopping, as he passed what had been Hurlbut’s headquarters, to try a few parting shots. He did fine execution, but his wheel horses were shot down, and he narrowly escaped losing his guns.
With the first dash of the enemy on the left wing, it became evident that a stupendous effort would be put forth to break through it. For two hours sheets of fire blazed from both columns, and clouds of smoke surged up between them with the rush and stifling effect of a prairie fire. The Mississippi riflemen in the enemy’s ranks fought with terrible valor, which was met with steady heroism by those who stood firmly under their unerring fire. Three different times the enemy seemed on the verge of a victory. They drove the Union forces slowly before them until they came in sight of the river, but up to three o’clock the desperate attempt to break the Federal lines proved unavailing. Having failed to drive in the main columns, they had turned with furious strength on the right wing; baffled there, they made another onset on the left wing, fighting more desperately than ever. But the Union lines were prepared for the assault, fierce as it was, and met it with wonderful steadiness.
The whole army was crowded into Wallace’s camps, and confined in a circuit of from half to two-thirds of a mile around the Landing. The Union army fighting bravely, had been falling back inch by inch all day. The next repulse threatened to drive them into the river.
Brigadier-General Prentiss and three regiments with him—the Twenty-third Missouri, of his own division, and the Twelfth and Fourteenth Iowa, of those that had come to his assistance—delayed their retreat too long, having relied too confidently on their supporting division to check a flank movement of the enemy. Almost before they saw their danger, the flanking forces rushed in from either side behind them, and they stood, perhaps two thousand strong, in the midst of thrice their number. Hedged in with battalions, with a forest of steel bristling on every side, these brave men yielded to the force of numbers, and were taken prisoners, after fighting bravely till further contest would have been self-murder.
Meantime Sherman’s brigades had maintained a confused fight. Buckland’s were almost gone, Hildebrand’s and McDowell’s were holding their ground more tenaciously.
General Hurlbut gives a clear statement of the retreat and final position of the Federal forces on Sunday afternoon:
“When, about three o’clock, Colonel Stewart, on my left, sent me word that he was driven in, and that I would be flanked in a few moments, it was necessary for me to decide at once to abandon either the right or left. I considered that General Prentiss could, with the left of General McClernand’s troops, probably hold the right, and sent him notice to reach out toward the right, and drop back steadily parallel with my first brigade, while I rapidly moved General Lauman from the right to the left, and called up two twenty-pound pieces of Major Cavender’s battalion to check the advance of the enemy upon the first brigade. These pieces were taken into action by Dr. Corvine, the surgeon of the battalion, and Lieutenant Edwards, and effectually checked the enemy for half an hour, giving me time to draw off my crippled artillery, and to form a new front with the third brigade. In a few minutes, two Texas regiments crossed the ridge separating my line from Stuart’s former one, while other troops also advanced.
“Willard’s battery was thrown into position, under command of Lieutenant Wood, and opened with great effect on the Lone Star flags, until their line of fire was obstructed by the charge of the third brigade, which, after delivering its fire with great steadiness, charged up the hill, and drove the enemy back three or four hundred yards. Perceiving that a heavy force was closing on the left, between my line and the river, while heavy firing continued on the right and front, I ordered the line to fall back. The retreat was made steadily, and in good order. I had hoped to make a stand on the line of my camp, but masses of the enemy were pressing on each flank, while their light artillery was closing rapidly in the rear. On reaching the twenty-four-pounder siege guns in battery, near the river, I again succeeded in forming line of battle in rear of the guns, and, by direction of Major-General Grant, I assumed command of all troops that came up. Broken regiments and disordered battalions came into line gradually upon my division.
“Major Cavender posted six of his twenty-pound pieces on my right, and I sent my aid to establish the light artillery, all that could be found, on my left. Many officers and men, unknown to me, fled in confusion through the line. Many gallant soldiers and brave officers rallied steadily on the new line. I passed to the right and found myself in communication with General Sherman, and received his instructions. In a short time the enemy appeared on the crest of the ridge, led by the Thirteenth Louisiana, but were cut to pieces by the steady and murderous fire of our artillery.”
The enemy were in possession of nearly all the Union camps and camp equipage. Half the field artillery had fallen into his hands; a division general had been captured—many officers had followed him, and more than one regiment of soldiers had been made prisoners. The battle field was cumbered at every step with killed and wounded; the hospital tents were overflowing and crowded with human agony. A long ridge bluff set apart for surgical purposes swarmed with the maimed, the dead and the dying, whose cries and groans broke fearfully through the pauses of the artillery. A dogged, stubborn resolution took possession of the men; regiments had lost their favorite officers; companies had been bereft of their captains. Still they continued to fight desperately, but with little hope.
At three o’clock the gunboat Tyler opened fire on the enemy, and at four the Lexington came up, taking position half a mile above the landing, and opened fire, striking terror into the ranks of the enemy.
General Grant was confident that his troops could hold the enemy off till morning, and said this while standing with his staff in a group by the old log post-office on the landing, which was then crowded with surgeons and the wounded; but still the men fought with a despairing light in their eyes.
In a time like this, minutes count for years. General Grant used them to a golden purpose. Colonel Webster, chief of staff, and an artillery officer of ability, had arranged all the guns he could collect in a sort of semi-circle, protecting the Landing, and bearing chiefly on the Union centre and left, by which the rebels were pretty sure to advance. Corps of artillerists to man them were improvised from all the batteries that could be found. Twenty-two guns in all were placed in position. Two of them were very heavy siege guns, long thirty-two’s. Where they came from, what battery they belonged to, no man questioned. It was quite unimportant. Enough that they were there, in the right place, half a mile back from the bluff, sweeping the approaches by the left, and by the ridge Corinth road, but with few to work them. Dr. Corvine, surgeon of Frank Blair’s First Missouri Artillery, proffered his services, which were gladly accepted, and he worked them with terrible effect.
It was half-past four o’clock—perhaps later still. Every division of the Union army on the field had been repulsed. The enemy occupied almost all their camps. The struggling remnant of Federal troops had been driven to within little over half a mile of the Landing. Behind was a deep, rapid river. In front was a victorious enemy. Still there was an hour for fighting. O, that night or Lew. Wallace would come! Nelson’s division of Buell’s army evidently could not cross in time to save the day. No one could tell why Lew. Wallace was not on the ground. In the justice of a righteous cause, and in that semi-circle of twenty-two guns in position, lay all the hope these beleagured men could see.
At five o’clock the artillery which had been thundering so stormily, held its fire a little; the flash of muskets from the enemy’s lines died away, and his columns fell back on the centre for nearly a mile. With a sudden swoop they wheeled and again threw their entire force on the left wing, determined to end the fearful contest of the day then and there.
Suddenly a broad, sulphurous flash of light leaped out from the darkening woods, and through the glare and smoke came whistling leaden hail. The rebels were making their crowning effort for the day, and as was expected, they came from the left and centre. They had wasted their fire at one thousand yards. Instantaneously a new tempest from the black-mouthed Union guns flung out its thunderous response. The rebel artillery opened, and shell and round shot came tearing across the open space back of the bluff. The Union infantry poured in a glorious response from their broken battalions, invigorated by the announcement that the advance of Buell’s army was in sight. Just then a body of cavalry appeared across the Tennessee river, waiting transportation. In their extremity the soldiers turned their eyes anxiously that way. Was it Buell—was it Nelson coming to the rescue?