General Nelson's Scout

by Byron A. Dunn

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."