About noon our General, W. H. L. Wallace, sent the 48th Illinois to attack what looked like a small redoubt to the left and front of us. This regiment gallantly attacked and fought desperately for some time, but losing their Colonel, they fell back, and then Gen. Wallace ordered the 45th Illinois to go to their aid. Now the time had come for us to show what stuff we were made of; now had come the time to do what we had promised our loved ones at home—to fight gallantly for the dear old flag. The orders of our Colonel were:
“Attention, battalion! Fix bayonets; shoulder arms; right shoulder shift, arms. Forward, march!” and all moved toward the enemy’s works over very rough ground. The redoubt of the enemy was on a hill, the ground sloping down toward us, while the trees and brush had been cut down to retard our progress. Presently the bullets began to sing about our heads: zip, ping, ping, and as we climbed the hill we were met by a murderous fire of musketry; the men were falling in bunches and the enemy poured into us grape and canister from their cannons.
When we got close enough the order to fire was given, and we boys sent our first lead into the enemy who showed themselves on top of the breastwork. The firing on both sides was brisk, but our Colonel would not let the men advance any farther. He knew we could not climb over the trench in front of the breastworks and scale the works. We fought an hour at great disadvantage, when the order was given to slowly retire. We had smelt powder for the first time and had heard the whiz of the minie-ball, many of our brave comrades making the greatest sacrifice a man can make for his country. They had given their lives for the flag.
The gunboats on the river side of the fort had been doing valiant work, but had suffered badly at the hands of the enemy. The flagship St. Louis, had her steering wheel shattered, the pilot was killed, and Admiral Foote was wounded. The flagstaff was shot away and Captain J. V. Johnston, fastening the flag to his arm, walked the deck and gave the signals.
For the interest of my young readers, I must tell you about Captain Johnston’s little boy, Master James Vincent Johnston, aged about 8 years at the time. Captain Johnston’s wife and little boy were visiting him on the gunboat when the enemy opened fire from an unseen battery on the shore. The Captain had tied the boy by his mother’s side in one of the cabins, but he succeeded in untying himself and ran off among the gunners, where he seemed to take great delight during the excitement. Presently the Captain came along and met the little fellow carrying a pouch of powder. His father was surprised, and asked him where he got his load. The child answered:
“Why, Tommy had his head shotted off over there an’ I’m carrying the powder,” and he ran to the gun carrying his load.
The Captain let him have his way and little Jimmy was the hero of the battle, and the sailors called him “Admiral Jimmie.”
After the unsuccessful attack on the fort we again took our places in the line with our brigade. During the night the cold was intense and the men suffered much; some perished, icicles hanging from the caps of the sentinels. Our grub at this time was very scarce. We learned better later on in the war to always carry a good supply of hard tack in our haversacks for just such emergencies.
General Grant examining a prisoner’s haversack
at Fort Donelson