Along Hardee’s line the white puffs of cannon smoke showed all day through. In the early afternoon came a courier with a note from Walker, now at Calhoun. “No movement of the enemy observed. Think report of passage of Oostenaula unfounded.” Johnston read, then dispatched an order to Hood. “Prepare to attack enemy’s left as indicated yesterday evening. Three brigades of Polk’s and Hardee’s will support.” But later, as Hood was preparing to move forward, there came a more breathless messenger yet from Walker. “The first report was true, General! They crossed at Lay’s Ferry. Two divisions are over, and others on the way.” Johnston listened with an impassive face, then sent at once and countermanded Hood’s order. Stewart’s division only was not checked in time. It attacked, and was roughly handled before it could be recalled.
Lieutenant T.B. Mackall, aide-de-camp to General Mackall, chief of staff, kept a journal of the operations, during these days, of the Army of Tennessee. May fifteenth, 1864, he writes:—
“... 7 A.M. General Johnston has been on hill where Selden’s battery is posted since firing began; is just going to ride to the right, leaving General Mackall here. Skirmishing and artillery still going on. 10 A.M. General Johnston returned to Selden’s battery an hour ago. Answer sent to cipher of the President received yesterday: ‘Sherman cannot reinforce Grant without my knowledge, and will not as we are skirmishing along our entire line. We are in presence of whole force of enemy assembled from North Alabama and Tennessee.’ Ferguson’s brigade of cavalry, also Brigadier-General Jackson have reached Rome. Wheeler has just gone to upper pontoon bridge, which will not be ready for crossing for fifteen minutes. It is in long range of the six-gun battery put up last night on the hill which they captured. 11 A.M. Very heavy musketry and artillery firing going on, apparently on Hindman’s line. Just before it became so rapid General Johnston rode up the Dalton road, apparently on account of some news brought by Hampton from Hardee. About 11.15 battery on our extreme right opened. Firing slackened on Hindman’s front. Battery on hill on our left enfilades our trenches; riflemen annoying to our gunners. 12 M. General Johnston has come back to Selden’s battery. The firing on extreme right three quarters of an hour ago caused by enemy’s crossing Connesauga in rear of Hood, capturing Hood’s hospital. A brigade of our cavalry after them, supported by a brigade of Stewart’s. Captain Porter, who went with General Johnston, came back. Says last reports represent our troops driving enemy’s cavalry. 1.30 P.M. Heavy musketry and artillery on Hindman’s front; began about fifteen minutes ago. Lieutenant Wigfall has just come up to say enemy are making a very determined attack on Hindman. General Johnston preparing to mount to ride to Hood’s. Firing continuous. 3.30 P.M. Few minutes after writing above rode off to General Hood’s with General Mackall, who accompanied General Johnston. Found Hood where Dalton dirt road and railroad are near each other and where we now are. Hindman, a few minutes after we arrived, repulsed the enemy, who came up in some places to his breastworks. Our reserves not used. Orders given for Stewart to take enemy in flank; for wagons which were sent back to be brought up to Resaca. Stevenson and Hindman to take up movement of Stewart. Featherston brought from Polk’s line, also Maney and —— from Cheatham. These supports came up in very short time. Stevenson, however, sent word that enemy in three lines were preparing to attack Stewart’s centre. 3.40 P.M. (In rear of Stewart’s line near railroad) Stewart directed to receive attack and pursue. But slight skirmishing now; enemy not making attack. 9.30 P.M. At house behind Selden’s battery (headquarters at night). Orders given to withdraw from this place; arrangements made and trains moving. This afternoon, about 4.30 P.M., Stewart, in obedience to orders to attack if his position was not assaulted, advanced; soon his line was broken by a terrible fire of Hooker’s corps, who were ready to attack. I had been sent to accompany Major Ratchford to General Featherston (held in reserve) to order him in the General’s name to take position in support of Stewart, near Green’s house.
“Monday, May 16. On Calhoun and Adairsville road, two miles south of Calhoun. While in field in rear of Stewart’s line and near railroad last night, about dark, corps and division commanders assembled and instructions given to effect withdrawal of army to south bank of Oostenaula. Enemy had crossed force to south bank of river at Dobbin’s Ferry; reported two divisions. Walker was facing them, immediately in our front. He was entrenched, his line extending from Oostenaula River to Tilton on Connesauga.... In two hours after Stewart’s repulse, Cheatham, Hindman, Cleburne, etc., were assembled around the camp-fires. Hardee had been there all evening. Routes and times fixed; cars to be sent for the wounded; wagons and ambulances and most of artillery to cross pontoons above; troops and artillery on Polk’s line on railroad and small trestle bridge; an hour occupied in giving orders, etc., and all dispersed, going to their headquarters. We rode in; wagons not brought over. After writing dispatches ... lay down (sleeping on porch of house in rear of Selden’s battery); waked by noise—firing, confusion, etc.; saddle and mount. General Loring comes up; all ride to roadside at foot of Selden’s battery, passing through Hindman’s column, going to railroad bridge. Cheatham’s pass from his line over small trestle bridge below. Night cloudy. Firing of musketry and small arms on Hood’s line, which was rapid and continuous on first waking, decreased. These troops (Cheatham’s and Hood’s) did not seem at all alarmed, rather noisy and in very good humour. Enemy’s line on river remarkably quiet.... Near Calhoun, 5.30 P.M. Order given to send wagons back one mile and a half south of Adairsville. 6.30 P.M. Our wagons parking; saddling.
“Tuesday, May 17. We reached Adairsville just before day, a little ahead of troops. Cultivated, rolling country from Resaca to Adairsville.”
Edward Cary lay, not in the hospital that was raided, but in a house in the village. It was a fairly large house, and upstairs and down it was filled with the wounded. The surgeons and the village women had their hands full. He lay quite conscious, much weakened, but going to recover. There were a number of pallets in this upper hall where he had been placed. Officers and men occupied them, some much hurt, others more slightly. A surgeon with a woman to help went from bed to bed. The more frightful cases were downstairs, and from that region there came again and again a wailing cry from flesh and blood and bone under probe and saw. Out of doors the sun shone hot, and in at the open, unshaded windows came a dull sound of firing. The flies were bad. Two girls with palm-leaf fans, moving from pallet to pallet, struggled with them as best they might, but in the blood and glare and heat they settled again. The wounded moved their heads from side to side, fought them away with their hands. Désirée came up the stairs and into the hall. She had hanging at her waist a pair of scissors, and in her arms a bolt of something dusty-white. Unrolled at the stairhead, and cut swiftly into lengths, it proved to be mosquito netting. “I found it in a little store here. They didn’t know they had it.”
The hot, bright morning went on. Outside the firing swelled and sank and swelled again. Sometimes it sounded far away, sometimes as though it were in the street below. The less injured, the reasonably comfortable, listened with feverish interest. “On the right again!—Stevenson and Stewart have had the brunt.—No! that’s centre now.—Cleburne, I think. He’s a good one! Who’s passing through the street below? Old Joe? Give him a cheer, whoever’s got a voice!”
The morning wore on to hot noon. The village women had furnished kettlefuls of broth that stony necessity made very thin. Such as it was, it tasted good to the wounded who could eat and drink. For those who turned moaningly away their comrades had the divinest pity. “Poor fellow! he’s badly off! I reckon he’s going to die—Do you remember, at Baker’s Creek, how he fought that gun all alone?”
Hot noon wore into sultry afternoon. The sun went behind a smooth pall of greyish cloud. His going did not lessen the heat; there was no air, a kind of breathless oppression. In the midst of it, and during what seemed a three-quarter circle of firing, north, east, and west, surgeons and orderlies appeared in the upper hall. “We’ve got to move you folk! Yankees marching on Calhoun and so’s the Army of Tennessee. Six miles by rail and the wagons are ready to take you to the station. Cheer up, now! the whole Western Atlantic’s reserved for us!”
The crowded wagons drew off, each in a dust-cloud. They jolted, the straw was thin in the bottom. The wounded tried to set their teeth, but many failed and there were groans enough. The surgeon, riding at the end of the wagon, kept up a low, practised, cheerful talk, and some of the less hurt helped as best they might the others. Désirée, because her eyes were so appealing, because she expected to go and said as much, was given place upon the bed of one of the larger wagons. She sat, curled up upon the straw, Edward’s head upon her lap, her bent knee and the softness of her skirt easing, too, the position of a grizzled lieutenant with a bullet through his cheek. The line of wagons jolted through the dust to the station, where was the weary, rusty engine, and the weary, dingy cars. Six miles over that roadbed with green wood for fuel, with stalling and hesitations and pauses for examination, meant a ride of an hour.