So far from this episode of camp life having been a source of unkind feeling between Walker's Division of Georgians and Cheatham's Division of Tennesseeans, it ever afterward seemed to be rather a bond of sympathy and union. The writer never afterward passed or met the Georgia Division, that its men did not greet him with shouts, often with "Three cheers for the Snowball Colonel!" "Colonel" was my rank at the time and "The Snowball Colonel" was the designation they ever afterward gave me. This "snowball battle" seems to have made a deep and indelible impression on all the soldiers who took part in, or who witnessed it; for one of the first questions I am often asked by old soldiers whom I have not seen since the close of the war, is: "General, do you remember the snowball battle at Dalton, Ga.?" This, and the additional fact that it is still so often a topic of conversation among the old soldiers, is, I suppose, why Gen. Vaughan has requested me to write an account of it as an appendix to his book.
In concluding this report of the celebrated snowball fight, I suppose the writer can say, without being charged with vanity, that he won more "reputation" ("that idle and most false imposition; often got without merit and lost without deserving") than in all the other battles in which he participated during the war. He is said to have performed prodigies of daring and desperation during the action, as men can generally do when there is not much danger in front, and no disgrace in defeat. With a bowed head (after the manner of a pugnacious sheep) to protect his face and eyes from the balls of the enemy, he rode right into and through their ranks, amid a deluging snowstorm of flying missiles, and emerged therefrom with a floating flag, but a hatless head. He congratulates his command and himself that though the battle was intensely boisterous, it was practically bloodless—the only casualties being a few blinded eyes and two or three broken arms, during an action in which not fewer than five thousand men were engaged.
The Tennesseeans were so enthused with their great victory over the Georgians, that they wanted another fight before the "weary sun," then sinking low, "had made his golden set." But as there was not time to seek it with troops in a distant camp and from a different State, they concluded to fight each other. Accordingly an issue was joined between Maney's Brigade, commanded by Col. Hume Field, mounted, and Vaughan's Brigade, commanded by the writer, also mounted. The dispositions for battle having been duly made, the charge was mutually sounded, and when the opposing lines, advancing on each other with great speed and impetuosity, clashed, the shock was tremendous. Men fell right and left, in front and rear. Some were dragged from the field, hatless and coatless, amid the greatest cheering and wildest shouts. "When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." The battle raged till all the reserves had been brought into action, when a supreme effort was made by both sides to close the fight with victory. The writer, venturing too far into the enemy's ranks, had his horse seized by as many of them as could get hold of him, and was thrown to the ground; the rider was grabbed by the head and arms (his bandanna flag going down in the wreck), and was being dragged to the enemy's rear, when a large squad of his own men seized him by the other end in an effort to recapture him, and he was raised from the ground and actually strung up between the heavens and the earth by the pulling forces at each end of him. At this moment he felt that his situation was now serious indeed, and that it was time to stop such "d—n foolishness." So, by vigorous kicking, "cussing" and yelling to his men to release him, they did so, and he was left a prisoner in the hands of the enemy, but without any serious injury. In the meantime, however, his own men had captured the commander of the enemy, and as neither side now had a leader the men ceased fighting and entered into negotiations for an exchange of prisoners. By the time the exchange was effected, the ardor of the combatants had greatly cooled, and neither side seemed disposed to renew the contest.
As to the result of the fight, it may be called a drawn battle, or described by an anecdote of a darkey attached as a servant to Gen. Floyd's command in Virginia. When Gen. Floyd had been beaten and was being pursued by the enemy, the darkey moved to the rear far in advance of the retreating troops, and when he was met by a soldier going to join the command and was asked what was the news from Gen. Floyd, he did not want to admit that he had been defeated, but said: "When I lef 'em, our men wuz vancin backwards on de Yankees, and dey wuz retreatin on us." As the last beams of the setting sun gilded the icy branches of the leafless trees with the beauteous tints of the rainbow, the soldiers returned to their camps from the white field of the great "snowball battle," and retired that night with the fadeless memory of a glorious day.
Transcriber's Notes:
Omitted periods repaired.
Punctuation typos in rosters have been corrected for consistency.
Retained period spelling of 'intrench' and its derivatives throughout.
Alphabetizing errors in the Roster listings have been preserved.
Linked Table of Contents has been added.
Page 86: The spelling of 'schrapnel' has been retained as it appears in the original publication. ["when a schrapnel shell came over">[
Page 90: Changed 'hight' to 'height'. ["raised excitement to its wildest height">[