The Campaigns of the 124th Regiment, Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with Roster and Roll of Honor

by G. W. Lewis

On the second day of September, 1864, we moved out early, marched through Jonesborough, and found the enemy in position about three miles south of town on the railroad. We formed in line of battle, and made an attack on both his flanks, but failed, for some reason, to pass beyond them. Here we learned that Atlanta had fallen and was in our possession, and the rejoicing along our line was immense. The news was soon confirmed by a circular from division headquarters, stating that the rebels had blown up two of their trains of ammunition and seven siege guns. This accounted for the noise, that sounded more like an explosion than a battle, that we had heard the night before. For some reason entirely unknown to your humble servant, General Sherman did not desire to pursue Corporal Hood any further south, and our line of battle was withdrawn. So Atlanta had fallen after a campaign of one hundred and twenty-two days. The distance from Chattanooga to Atlanta by the railroad is one hundred and thirty-eight miles, but we had marched, undoubtedly, more than that distance by a great many miles, in the flank movements we had made.

On the eighth day of September, 1864, we marched into and through the "gate city of the south." We put on all the style of which our dirty and ragged condition would permit, forming our regiments in column by company, with our bands playing and colors flying. We marched down Marietta street, and the few citizens we saw did not lay themselves out to give us a cordial welcome. This street was the nearest ruins of anything west of the Atlantic. We saw one large sign that I suppose the visitor could hardly find in the new Atlanta. It extended the entire front of a block and read: "Slaves At Auction." We marched three miles east of town and went into camp, and the Atlanta campaign was ended.

I have tried to give you, though very imperfectly, my recollections of this, the greatest campaign ever made on the western continent. To the general hearer it would have been more interesting, without doubt, to have given the outlines of the campaign, omitting the details of each day's movements with their dates; but as many of that old fighting regiment (of which I had the honor of being a member) are still alive, I thought it my duty to place upon record a detailed account of their sufferings and triumphs. General Sherman had, indeed, broken the shell of the confederacy; but I must say (and I think my comrades will agree with me) it was, by all odds, the toughest shell we ever helped to crack.

For more than one hundred days, of the one hundred and twenty-two days of the Atlanta campaign, we had been under fire. The graves of our dear dead comrades are scattered thickly from Dalton to Jonesborough.

The red earth of our intrenchments marks the hillsides and beautiful mountains of northern and central Georgia.

The campaign was the severest blow the rebellion had received up to that time, and from Atlanta, General Sherman commenced his grand march to the sea.

FROM ATLANTA TO NASHVILLE.

The campaign of Atlanta practically closed with the abandonment of the city by the rebels, September 2d, 1864. The confederate forces still occupied a position near Jonesborough, about thirty miles south of Atlanta. The campaign had ended by the federal forces arriving at a certain geographical point. The confederate forces, although somewhat shattered and reduced by the battles dating from Peach Tree creek forward, were still intact. The rebel forces were still in command of Hood; and with him were some able fighting officers, in the persons of Cleburne, Hill, Hardee, Adams and others.

On our arrival at Atlanta, General Sherman immediately commenced preparations for the grand march to the sea. It was at once evident that he intended to abandon his line of communications, for he commenced to build a fort large enough for the garrison he intended to leave at Atlanta. This fort he built substantially in the heart of the city, and destroyed the balance because in the way of the fort. So when General Sherman took up his world-renowned march for the seaboard, but very little of the "gate city of the south" remained standing. While these preparations were going forward the 124th regiment was in camp about three miles southeast of Atlanta, busy in cleaning up, drawing new clothing, and recuperating from the effects of the arduous campaign just closed. We had not been in camp many days before we were astonished by the news that the Sanitary Commission, a patriotic organization of the loyal citizens of the north (whose ramifications penetrated to every city, village, hamlet and farm of the loyal states), had sent us a train load of Irish potatoes. This may seem a small matter to take note of after so many years and read to you, who in all your lives have never know the want of anything to eat your appetites might crave, but what do you say of a lot of men that from January 1st, 1863, to September, 1864, had not feasted, even their eyes, on a potato? If you could, at your home, surrounded with all the delicacies of the culinary art, be deprived of the common potato for eighteen months, you could then appreciate our situation. The cheers and shouting that went up, mid-afternoon, when the commissary department sent word to the regiments it had potatoes to issue, were enough to make one think the news of some great victory had been communicated to us. And when the stream of potatoes began to be diverted and divided to the companies and messes, it was too comical for anything, those great bronzed and weather-beaten soldiers, running around with their hands full of potatoes, and to see the fires lighted at that time of day, and the little kettles, or pails rather, filled and put on brimming full of potatoes; then when cooled to see the feasting—potatoes served with salt. I suppose you would demand nice Jersey butter, but salt was good enough for us. And this is not all I have to say of that commission organized from the loyal citizens of the north. It brought us by the car load, pickled cabbage and onions; and how refreshing they were to us that had not tasted vegetable food for eighteen long months. I do not believe there is an old veteran alive to-day that does not bless from the bottom of his heart, that greatest and most magnificent of charities ever organized—the Sanitary Commission.

We had stayed in camp, as I said, while General Sherman was preparing for his march to the sea; busy each day with drilling, foraging for corn, and all the many things necessary to keep companies and regiments in good shape, as per the army regulations. We had hoped, as had each regiment of the Army of the Cumberland, that it would be our good fortune to go with Sherman on his march south, and it was with not a little chagrin and heartburning that we were not called, neither chosen, to go on that march, that has been the wonder and admiration of the military critics of all nations.