Thus did 1,350 Confederates carry the redoubt defended by 904 brave Union veterans, although subjected all this time to the fire of forts "T" and "C," and other flanking works. But I will let Gen. Corse tell the story himself, as found on pages 761-766, Volume 39, War Records, only I will correct the errors in names and figures in some instances:
I had hardly issued these incipient orders when the storm broke in all its fury on the Thirty-Ninth Iowa and Seventh Illinois. Young's [Cockrell's] Brigade of Texans, 1,900 strong, had gained the west end of the ridge, and moved with great impetuosity along its crest till they struck Rowett's command, where they received a severe check, but, undaunted, they came again and again. Rowett, reënforced by the Ninety-Third Illinois, and aided by the gallant Redfield, encouraged me to hope we were all safe here, when I observed a brigade of the enemy under command of Gen. Sears moving from the north, its left extending across the railroad. I rushed to the two companies of the Ninety-Third Illinois, which were on the brink of the cut running north from the redoubt [fort "C">[ and parallel with the railroad, they having been reënforced by the retreating pickets, and urged them to hold on to the spur, but it was of no avail. The enemy's line of battle swept us back like so much chaff, and struck the Thirty-Ninth Iowa in flank, threatening to ingulf our little band without further ado. Fortunately for us, Col. Tourtellotte's fire caught Sears in the flank and broke him so badly as to enable me to get a staff officer over the cut with orders to bring the Fiftieth Illinois over to reënforce Rowett, who had lost very heavily. However, before the regiment sent for could arrive, Sears and Young [Cockrell and Young] both rallied and made their assaults in front and on the flank with so much vigor and in such force as to break Rowett's line, and had not the Thirty-Ninth Iowa fought with the desperation it did I never would have been able to have brought a man back into the redoubt [fort "C">[. As it was, their hand-to-hand struggle and stubborn stand broke the enemy to that extent that he must stop to re-form before undertaking the assault on the fort. Under cover of the blow they gave the enemy the Seventh and Ninety-Third Illinois and what remained of the Thirty-Ninth Iowa fell back into the fort. The fighting up to this time—about 11 A.M.—was of a most extraordinary character. Attacked from the north, from the west, and from the south, these three regiments, Thirty-Ninth Iowa, Seventh Illinois, and Ninety-Third Illinois infantry, held Young's and a portion of Sears's and Cockrell's [should be Cockrell's and Young's] Brigades at bay for nearly two hours and a half. [We were delayed about an hour, and that by the entanglements that prevented us from reaching the parapet; besides, we were under fire from guns everywhere.] The gallant Col. Redfield, of the Thirty-Ninth Iowa, fell, shot in four places, and the extraordinary valor of the men and officers of this regiment and the Seventh Illinois saved to us Allatoona.
The capture of the redoubt by Cockrell and Young under the fire of six pieces of artillery, two in fort "C" and one in a battery in advance of the fort, three in fort "T," and musketry fire from every place, besides the 904 men in the redoubt, ends the first act of the tragedy.
It is proper here to give a description of this scene by quoting from an address made by Col. William Ludlow, Corps of Engineers, United States Army, who was with Gen. Corse during the battle, to the Michigan Commandery, Loyal Legion, at Detroit, April 2, 1891. In referring to the capture of redoubt "R," he said:
But the appalling center of the tragedy was the pit in which lay the heroes of the Thirty-Ninth Iowa and the Seventh Illinois. Such a sight probably was never presented to the eye of heaven. There is no language to describe it. With all the glad reaction of feeling after the prolonged strain of that mortal day, and the exultant surge of victory that swelled our hearts, it was difficult to stand on the verge of that open grave without a rush of tears to the eye and a spasm of pity clutching at the throat. The trench was crowded with the dead, blue and homespun. "Yank" and "Johnny," inextricably mingled in the last ditch. Our heroes, ordered to hold the place to the last, with supreme fidelity, had died at their posts. As the Rebel line ran over them they struck up with their bayonets as the foe struck down, and, rolling together in the embrace of death, we found them, in some cases, mutually transfixed. The theme cannot be dwelt upon.
I will now go on with Corse's report, and let him tell his story of the battle in his own way.
So completely disorganized were the enemy that no regular assault could be made on the fort until I had the trenches all filled and the parapets lined with men. The Twelfth Illinois and the Fiftieth Illinois, arriving from the east hill, enabled us to occupy every foot of trench, and keep up a line of fire that as long as our ammunition lasted would render our little fort impregnable. The broken forces of the enemy enabled them to fill every hollow and take every advantage of the rough ground surrounding the fort, filling every hole and trench, seeking shelter behind every stump and log that lay within musket range of the fort. We received fire from the north, south, and west face of the fort, completely enfilading our ditches, and rendering it almost impracticable for a man to expose his person above the parapet. An effort was made to carry our works by assault [This is an error. We had no scaling ladders, besides the ditch was solid full of Corse's men who found shelter there], but the battery, Twelfth Wisconsin, was so ably managed and so gallantly fought as to render it impossible for a column to live within one hundred yards of the works. Officers labored constantly to stimulate the men to exertion, and almost all that were killed or wounded in the fort met this fate while trying to get the men to expose themselves above the parapet, and nobly setting them the example.
The enemy kept up a constant and intense fire, gradually closing around us, and rapidly filling our little fort with the dead and the dying. About 1 P.M. I was wounded by a rifle ball, which rendered me insensible for some thirty or forty minutes, but managed to rally on hearing some persons cry, "Cease firing," which conveyed to me the impression that they were trying to surrender the fort. Again I urged my staff, the few officers left unhurt, and the men around me to renewed exertions, assuring them that Sherman would soon be here with reënforcements. The gallant fellows struggled hard to keep their heads above the ditch and parapet in the face of the murderous fire of the enemy now concentrated upon us.
Here we have the astonishing official statement that his men would not expose themselves enough to fire over the parapet or out of the ditch, and that most of the officers lost their lives in "nobly setting them the example;" and this is also established by Col. Ludlow in his address, where he says:
Rowett's order to "cease firing" had, of course, nothing to do with the cry of "surrender." It is true that there were men in the fort ready to surrender or to do anything else in order to get out of it alive. Happily these were few, and most of them lay prone, close under the parapet, playing dead, with the combatants and wounded standing and sitting upon them. If I mistake not, Corse himself, at least for a time, was holding down one of these living corpses, who preferred to endure all the pain and discomfort of his position rather than get up and face the deadly music that filled the air with leaden notes.... It was absolutely necessary to keep room for the fighting force along the parapet, so the wounded were drawn back, and in some cases shot over and over again. The dead were disposed of in the same way, except that as the ground became covered with them they were let lie as they fell, and were stood or sat upon by the fighters.... The slaughter had been frightful.