Everything had yielded at last before them. From camp to camp, from rallying point to rallying point the Union hosts had been hurled, division piling on division in wild confusion.
Driven headlong, the broken ranks were thrown in panic on the banks of the river. Thousands crouched in ravines and sought shelter under the steep bluffs of the river banks. Trampling mobs were struggling in vain to board the transports and cross the river. The Federal reserve line had been completely crushed, and the entire army, driven from the field they had held that morning, were huddled in a confused mass of a half mile around the Pittsburg Landing.
The next charge of the Confederates would hurl the whole army into the river or they must surrender.
The gunboats had opened in vain. They were throwing their shells a mile beyond the Confederate lines where they fell harmlessly.
The Confederate division commanders were gathering their hosts for the last charge at sunset. There was yet an hour of daylight in which to end the struggle with the complete annihilation of the Union army. Down under the steep banks of the river's edge the demoralized remnants of the shattered divisions were already stacking their arms to surrender. They had made their last stand.
General Bragg turned to his aide:
"Tell Major Stewart of the twenty-first Alabama to advance and drive the enemy into the river!"
The aide saluted.
"And carry that order along the whole line!"