I shall not attempt to give an historical or official description of the Battle of Chickamauga, but a description as seen from the standpoint of a private soldier.
On the 18th of September our Division was bivouacked at Maclamore’s Cove, a few miles from Lee & Gordon’s Mills. Heavy skirmishing had been going on all day at Lee & Gordon’s Mills and Rossville between Crittenden and McCook’s forces and those of the enemy. About 4 P. M., the “Assembly” sounded and we “fell in” and commenced our march for the battlefield. At dark my Regt. was thrown out as flankers. We marched until 10 o’clock along the banks of a small creek while on the opposite side of the creek a similar line of the enemy marched parallel with us. We reached Crawfish Springs about 10 P. M., here we took the road again and continued our march until sunrise on the morning of the 19th when we halted and prepared breakfast. Before we had finished our breakfast we heard a terrible roar and crash of musketry to our front, which was east. This was the opening of the battle of Chickamauga. Immediately afterward an Aide came dashing up to Lieut. Col. Ely, commanding 10th Wis. We were ordered to fall in and load at will. Then the order was given “forward, double quick, march,” and forward we went through brush, over rocks and fallen trees, keeping our alignment almost as perfect as though we were marching in review. Very soon we began to hear the sharp “fizt and ping” of bullets, a sound already familiar to our ears for we were veterans of two years service, and then we began to take the Johnies in “out of the wet.” Forward, and still forward, we rushed all the time firing at the enemy who was falling back. After advancing nearly a mile in this manner we found the enemy, en masse, in the edge of a corn field. Our Division halted, the skirmishers fell back into line and the business of the day commenced in deadly earnest. We were ordered to lie down and load and fire at will. Reader, I wish I had the ability to describe what followed. Not more than twenty-five rods in front of us was a dense mass of rebs who were pouring in a shower of bullets that fairly made the ground boil. To the rear of my regiment was a section of Loomis’ 1st Mich. Battery which was firing double shotted canister over our heads. How we did hug the ground, bullets from the front like a swarm of bees, canister from the rear screeching and yelling like lost spirits in deepest sheol. But this could not last long, mortal man could not stand such a shower of lead while he had willing legs to carry him out of such a place.
The rebels soon found a gap at the right of my Regt. and began to pour in past our right flank. I was lying on the ground loading and firing fast as possible when I saw the rebels charging past our right, with their arms at a trail, looking up I discovered that there was not a man to the right of me in the Regt. I did not wait for orders but struck out for the rear in a squad of one. I could not see a man of my regiment so I concluded to help support the battery, accordingly I rushed up nearly in front of one of the guns just as they gave the Johnies twenty pounds of canister. That surprised me. I found I was in the wrong place, twenty pounds of canister fired through me was liable to lay me up, so I filed left and came in front of the other gun just as the men were ready to fire. They called out to me to hurry as they wanted to fire, facing the gun and leaning over to the right I called to them to fire away and they did fire away with a vengeance. After this things seem mixed up in my mind. I remember getting to the rear of that gun, of hearing the bullets whistling, of seeing the woods full of rebs, of thinking I shall get hit yet, of trying to find a good place to hide and finally of stumbling and falling, striking my breast on my canteen, and then oblivion.
How long I remained unconscious I never knew, probably not long, but when I came to my understanding the firing had ceased in my immediate vicinity except now and then a scattering shot. I started again for the rear and had not gone more than a quarter of a mile before I found Gen. Baird urging a lot of stragglers to rally and protect a flag which he was holding. Here I found Capt. W. A. Collins and several other men of my Company. When he saw me he asked me if I was hurt. I told him “no, not much, I had a couple of cannons fired in my face and fell on my canteen which had knocked the breath out of me but that I would be all right in a little while.” He then told me I had better go to the rear to the hospital. To this I objected, telling him that I had rather stay with the “boys.”
We then marched to the rear and halted in a corn field. The stragglers from the regiment began to come in and the brigade was soon together again, but we did no more fighting that day. But just before night we were marched to the front and formed in line of battle. About 8 o’clock in the evening Johnson’s Division attempted to relieve another division in our front, Wood’s, I think it was, when the latter division poured a galling fire into the former, supposing they were rebels. Some of the balls came through the ranks of the 10th, whereupon Company K opened fire without orders and a sad mistake it proved for it revealed our position and a rebel battery opened on us with shells. To say that they made it lively for us is to say but part of the truth. The woods were fairly ablaze with bursting shells. The way they hissed and shrieked and howled and crashed was trying to the nerves of a timid man.
After the firing had ceased we were marched a short distance to the rear and bivouacked for the night. I laid down by a fire but “tired nature’s sweet restorer” did not visit me that night. I had received a terrible shock during the day. We had been whipped most unmercifully. The 1st Division of the 14th Corps had turned its back on the enemy for the first time, that day; and, too, there was to-morrow coming, and what would it bring? Do coming events cast their shadows before? Perhaps they do, at any rate the thoughts of all these things passing through my mind made me pass a sleepless night.
Sunday morning, September 20th, came. The same sun that shone dimly through the hazy atmosphere which surrounded the battlefield of Chickamauga, and called those tired soldiers to the terrible duties of another day of battle, shone brightly upon our dear ones at home, calling them to prepare for a day of rest and devotion, and while they were wending their way to church to offer up a prayer, perhaps, in our behalf, their way enlivened by the sweet sounds of the Sabbath bells, we were marching to the front to meet a victorious and determined foe, our steps enlivened by the thundering boom of the murderous cannon, the sharp rattle of musketry and the din and roar of battle, together with the shrieks and groans of our wounded and dying comrades. What a scene for a Sabbath day? But I am moralizing, I must on with my story.
Our division formed in line of battle on a ridge, with Scribner’s Brigade in the center, Starkweather’s on the right and King’s on the left. Soon the rebels came up the ascent at the charge step. We wait until they are in short range then we rise from behind our slight entrenchments and pour such a well directed volley into their ranks that they stagger for a moment, but for a moment only, and on they come again returning our fire, then the batteries open on them and from their steel throats belch forth iron hail and bursting shells, while we pour in our deadly fire of musketry. They halt! They break! THEY RUN! Those heroes of Longstreet’s, they have met their match in the hardy veterans of the west. Three times that day did we send back the rebel foe. In the meantime McCook and Crittenden had not fared so well. Bragg had been reinforced by Longstreet, Joe Johnson and Buckner, so that he had a much larger force then did Rosecrans.
Shortly after noon Bragg threw such an overwhelming force upon those two corps that they were swept from the field and driven toward Chattanooga, carrying Rosecrans and staff with them.
Here it was that Thomas, with the 14th Corps, reinforced by Granger, earned the title of “The Rock of Chickamauga.” Holding fast to the base of Missionary Ridge he interposed those two corps between the corps of McCook and Crittenden and the enemy, giving them time to escape up the valley toward Chattanooga.