Just at this moment General Wallace, on the right, was mortally wounded.
It was like taking away half the strength of his division. The men lost heart in a moment. The power which had inspired them was gone. The brave man was carried to the rear, followed by his division. The giving way of this division, and the falling back of Prentiss before the masses flanking the extreme left, was most disastrous. Prentiss was surrounded and taken prisoner with the remnant of his division, and Hurlburt’s camp fell into the hands of the Rebels.
Of this movement General Bragg says: “The enemy were driven headlong from every position, and thrown in confused masses upon the river-bank, behind his heavy artillery and under cover of his gunboats at the Landing. He had left nearly all his light artillery in our hands, and some three thousand or more prisoners, who were cut off from their retreat by the closing in of our troops on the left under Major-General Polk, with a portion of his reserve corps, and Brigadier-General Ruggles, with Anderson’s and Pond’s brigades of his division.”[13]
The woods rang with the exultant shouts of the Rebels, as Prentiss and his men were marched towards Corinth. They had possession of the camps of all the divisions except Wallace’s. Beauregard had redeemed his promise. They could sleep in the enemy’s camps.
Sunday Evening.
Look at the situation of General Grant’s army. It is crowded back almost to the Landing. It is not more than a mile from the river to the extreme right, where Sherman and McClernand are trying to rally their disorganized divisions. All is confusion. Half of the artillery is lost. Many of the guns remaining are disabled. Some that are good are deserted by the artillerymen. There is a stream of fugitives to the Landing, who are thinking only how to escape. There are thousands on the river-bank, crowding upon the transports. They have woeful stories. Instead of being in their places, and standing their ground like men, they have deserted their brave comrades, and left them to be overwhelmed by the superior force of the enemy.
As you look at the position of the army and the condition of the troops at this hour, just before sunset, there is not much to hope for. But there are some men who have not lost heart. “We shall hold them yet,” says General Grant.
An officer with gold-lace bands upon his coat-sleeve, and a gold band on his cap, walks up-hill from the Landing. It is an officer of the gunboat Tyler, commanded by Captain Gwin, who thinks he can be of some service. Shot and shells from the Rebel batteries have been falling in the river, and he would like to toss some into the woods.
“Tell Captain Gwin to use his own discretion and judgment,” is the reply.