After investing and bombarding Atlanta for a month, Sherman had begun his flanking tactics again by sending five of his corps to seize the M. & W. Road at Jonesboro, and Hardee, with his own and Lee's corps, had been sent down to checkmate the movement. After resting a few hours we were formed in line of battle across an old field with only Lowry's brigade on our left. For the only time in my experience as a soldier, the plan of battle was read to our command. Lee's corps and two divisions of Hardee's were to attack the enemy in front while Cleburne's division, to which we belonged, were to advance, then wheel to the right and attack in flank. Lying for several hours under a hot August sun awaiting orders to advance, I remember that, being uncertain as to my fate in the coming fight, and unwilling to allow the letters in my possession to fall into the enemy's hands, I tore them up, leaving only one for the identification of my body in case of my death. At 2 p. m. we were ordered forward. Crossing the open field and advancing through a piece of woodland, a battery of artillery opened on us but their shot flew high. Sol Foreman of the Oglethorpes, was struck by a piece of shell, but there was no other casualty in the company. After advancing nearly a mile we struck a boggy swamp and on its farthest edge Flint river. Will Daniel plunged in and turning to me said, "Come on sergeant." He had gone but a little way when the water reached his arm pits and sword in hand he swam across. Knowing that my cartridges would be useless if I followed suit, I ran up the stream and found dry passage on a log that lay across it. Reaching the crest of the hill beyond, we halted to reform the line. The horse ridden by Col. Olmstead, our brigade commander, had mired in the swamp, our regiment was without a field officer and Will Daniel offered to take command of the brigade in the final charge, which we all felt to be ahead of us. The hill on which we stood had been occupied by Federal cavalry and artillery, who had retired as we approached. The roar of battle giving evidence of a fierce engagement on our right, came to us over the hills and valleys; Capt. Dickson of Cleburne's staff, with his horse all afoam, his coat and vest discarded and the perspiration trickling from his face, was riding from point to point in the line giving his final orders and the sultry summer air smelled viciously of powder and lead. At this juncture a courier from Cleburne dashed up with orders for us to retire. We had gone some distance beyond the point intended and had become entirely detached from the line on our right. The attack in the enemy's front had failed to dislodge them and our two brigades could hardly have accomplished much against five corps of the enemy. By dusk we had resumed our original position and our regiment was placed on the picket line. On Sept. 1, Lee's corps returned to Atlanta and Hardee was left with his two divisions to face an enemy whose strength was five times his own. Relieved from picket by a detail of Cheatham's division, we were placed in the trenches vacated by Lee's corps. At 3 p. m. the enemy massed heavily in front of Lewis' Ky., and Govans' Ark. brigades and assaulted in three lines of battle, but were repulsed. They then formed in column of companies, making ten lines of battle, and renewed the attack. Our breastworks at this point were inferior and were manned only by a line in single rank.
With such odds the issue could not long remain in doubt. Govans' line was broken and a part of his brigade was captured. No assault was made on the line held by us, though we were subjected to a heavy fire from their skirmish line. At 10 p. m., Hardee evacuated his position and at daylight on the 2nd, occupied another, near Lovejoy Station. Sherman secured a foothold on the M. & W. Road and Hood, compelled to give up Atlanta, formed a junction with Hardee on the 3rd.
The enemy had again taken position in our front and skirmishing was kept up until the 8th, when they were recalled by Sherman and the Dalton and Atlanta campaign was ended.
FURTHER MEMORIES OF THE CAMPAIGN.
The following incidents oscillating as they do "from grave to gay," and marked perhaps as much by comedy as by tragedy, will probably be of more interest to the reader of these records than the details just ended:
"TWO AND A DOG."
At the date of our transfer from the coast to Johnston's army, our uniforms were in fairly good condition and bore in almost every case the insignia of rank held by the wearer. The writer's jacket had on its sleeves the regulation chevrons of an orderly sergeant, three bars or stripes with lozenge or diamond above them. The troops who had followed the fortunes of the Western army from Shiloh to Chickamauga were not so well clad and had, to a large extent discarded their official insignia. For this reason they were disposed to guy us as bandbox soldiers. Passing some of these veterans one day on the march one of them noticed my chevrons and sang out to his comrades: "Look there, boys. I've often hearn of "two and a dog" but I'll be blamed if there ain't "three and a dog." I reckon that's the way they play kyards on the coast." The laugh that followed convinced me that my lack of familiarity with the mysteries of the card table was not shared by those who heard the jest.
STRIPES ON THE WRONG SIDE.
While we suffered from deficiencies on other lines in the summer of '64, there was certainly no lack of rainy weather during that campaign. The roads over which we tramped were composed largely of a red, adhesive clay. The writer's physical conformation gave him some right to be classed with the knock-kneed species of the genus homo, and in marching over the wet clay hills, the red pigment began at his ankles and by successive contact, traveled gradually up the inside seams of his grey trousers until those seams and an inch-wide space on either side were covered for almost their entire length. Passing one day a division resting by the roadside, one of them noticed the peculiar condition of my bifurcated garment, and sang out to me: "Hello, my friend; you've got the stripe on the wrong side of your pants." I could not deny the soft impeachment and enjoyed the laugh raised at my expense as much as did my comrades.