“In the month of November, the once proud Atlanta—the beautiful Gate City, was laid in ashes. A harrowing scene of confusion and fright was presented when the city was first set in flames. Those of the citizens who had not left with the first exodus, were now afraid of being abandoned to the tender mercy of the rebels. The depot presented a scene of confusion and suffering impossible to describe. Women and children were huddled together, with the sole remaining wealth they possessed in the world clutched closely to their bosoms. The cry of young infants rose upon the air, and mingled dismally with the roar and crackle of the flames not a hundred yards distant—flames which licked up it their devouring fury the last remaining property of hundreds, and gave in return only a thick, but sickening smoke, and a blood-red glare streaming up against the clear sky. From house to house the destroying element sped, thrusting out forked tongues of fire in a thousand different directions—from street to street the dread demon of flame trailed his hideous and scorching length along, leaving in his wake desolate, grimy, smoking ruin. Men who were millionaires but a few months before, fled from their homes and the scene of their wealth, roofless in the wide world, and without a dollar in their pockets. On, on, on, always onward, till nothing more remained, spread the fire-fiend, with still increasing appetite for plunder, till every factory, railroad depot, hotel, mill, government buildings of all descriptions—everything, in short, save a few churches and some private dwellings, were reduced to blackened, ghastly, horrible ruin.
“The Tyre of southern trade was laid level with the dust; her grace, splendor, wealth and beauty, were things of the past, and the mere charred skeleton of Atlanta alone remained, to prove that ever she had been—to prove, also, one more dreadful monument of the waste and desolation that must ever follow in the footsteps of rebellion.”
THE BATTLE OF FRANKLIN, TENN.
November 30, 1864.
Our narrative left the rebel army under General Hood—whose movements were now superintended by the redoubtable Beauregard—advancing into the State of Tennessee, in the early part of the month of November. His design was to defeat the Union forces under General Thomas, and capture the city of Nashville. On the twenty-third of November his army took Pulaski, and on the twentieth, after a little skirmishing, entered Columbia. All this while, as the rebels advanced, the National troops retired; but, on the thirtieth, when the forces of Hood appeared before the town of Franklin, where the Federal troops were fortified, General Schofield felt it to be necessary to make a stand. The original plan had been, to lure the rebels nearer to Nashville, and fight the final battle there, with the aid of heavy reinforcements that were expected to arrive at that point. But the foe pressed on somewhat too precipitately, and it became necessary to check his advance. The National force here, under General Schofield’s command, numbered fifteen thousand men. The right wing was commanded by General Stanley, the left by General Cox.
At about half-past three, in the afternoon of the twentieth, the assault was commenced by the rebels. Cheatham’s corps was on the right, Stewart’s on the left, and S. D. Lee’s in reserve, on the centre.
Cheatham threw his whole corps on Wagner’s division with great impetuosity, and after an hour’s desperate fighting pushed Wagner back on the second Union line, where Wagner’s men became mingled with those of Cox and Huger, on the left and centre.
The rebels, encouraged by their success in driving back Wagner, with loud cheers advanced on the second line. Their order of advance was very peculiar—a semicircle of two regiments deep, extending all around the lines, and behind each alternate regiment was placed four others, so that the assaulting columns were six regiments deep.
General Hood appeared about four o’clock P. M. at the head of his command, and, pointing towards the Federal lines, said:—“Break those lines, boys, and you have finished the war in Tennessee. Break them, and there is nothing to oppose your march from Nashville to the Ohio river.”
Loud and ringing cheers answered the words of the rebel leader, and the whole space in front of the National troops was crowded with the advancing enemy.
Captain Lyman, commanding an artillery brigade in the Fourth corps, had placed his batteries in most favorable positions, and from these storms of shot and shell were hurled into the charging rebel ranks.