Part 5

The writer remembers, sitting down at the roots of a tree, and immediately springing up, brushing the seat of his pants vigorously. Examination showed that he had set down on a nest of little brown scorpions. Something like a crawfish in shape, with tails turned up over their backs, with a sting like a wasp's in the end of the tail. The laugh of the boys was on him.

Some Federal cavalry rode down to the river, on the other side, but a few shells scattered them, and at dark we again moved southward toward New Hope church and Dallas.

On the afternoon of May 25th, traveling the sparsely settled country road, about 2:00 p.m. a courier brought our Captain orders to rush his guns forward, infantry and wagons giving space and away we went, the cannoneers mounting on our gun carriages and caissons. Private James Hogan, of Tuscaloosa, in attempting to mount a gun, limber in motion, fell, one wheel of the gun passing over his body. A man was ordered to stay with him and see that an ambulance carried him to a hospital. He was so injured, as to prevent him serving further during the war. As we drew near to New Hope church, we found infantry of Stewart's, corps, hastily building log breastworks, along the right of the road, with the rattle of heavy skirmishing in the thick forest in the front. Our battery was ordered to turn aside to the left and go into battery and wait. This threw us into position with our infantry line perhaps fifty yards in our front. The Federals attacked with Hooper's corps in force, and the battle of New Hope church was fought and won, by our infantry line, we never getting a chance to fire a shot. Our cannoneers lying on the ground at their posts ready to fire, should the infantry give back. At dark we were placed in position on the infantry line and ordered to intrench and by morning of 26th, we had a pretty fair earthwork in our front facing a Federal battery. The woods were very dense, and it was only a couple of hundred yards across the hollow to the Federal entrenchments. Between the two lines the earth was strewn with the Federal dead.

Both sides had skirmishers in rifle pits in front of them, and any exposure of a portion of the body brought the "ping" of a bullet in close proximity. One struck about an inch above the head of Lieut. A. C. Hargrove, into the body of an oak against which he was sitting, a little in rear of embankment. His head showed a little too high above the breastworks. Two inches lower, it would have finished him. Both sides had to lie close in daylight. A little to the rear and left was the old church.

Capt. Lumsden sent a man to Gen. Quarles, who had his Brigade headquarters just in rear of the church, to borrow a field glass. The General and his staff wanted to know all about the situation, which was described as well as possible. One of the aides handed over his glasses, and requested the messenger to let them know whatever was discovered in our front. It was suggested that he come along, "Oh no! We don't think it necessary! You can tell us all about it when you return back." The others laughed and said: "Go ahead, young man." Capt. Lumsden thought he could make out a battery opposite, but it was difficult to be sure as their lines were partly hidden by brush, like our own. Our old Orderly Sergeant, now Capt. Geo. Little, on Gen. Bate's staff, had letters and socks from home for his two brothers, John and James, in our company, and rode up to the church where Gen. Stewart was sitting on the steps and asked him where Lumsden's battery was. He said they are just over there about 100 yards, but you can't ride there, come behind the church with your horse, a man was killed where you are sitting, just now. All was quiet then as could be. There was a country graveyard between the church and our line. He left his horse behind the church, and started to the battery, but in a moment there were a hundred bullets pattering like hail on the clap boards which covered the graves. He ran for cover in the trenches, and for ten minutes the firing was kept up and then quieted down, when he slipped back from the cover of one tree to another to the church, mounted his horse and made his way back to his own quarters.

About June 4th, the Federals disappeared from our front at New Hope church, and we moved back and toward Lost mountain and the railroad which we crossed the next day, and on June 8th, went into position on a ridge overlooking Big Shanty Station, being on the east side of railroad. This new line came to be known as the Pine Mountain line. Here we entrenched. On June 11th, we saw a rifle battery near Big Shanty firing on our lines to the left. We fired on them. They replied. Our trenches were a little below the top of the hill, with the limber chests exposed, being higher than the works. Lumsden ordered them to be run down close behind the works, which was done. But one Federal shell exploded one of the chests while it was being moved. Sergt. J. Mack Shivers was shoving it at the time but escaped much injury. The Yankee battery withdrew from the open, and we shortly after, heard of Gen Polk's death. We always believed that we were firing on the battery that killed him. During all this time we were having heavy rains every day. We have an idea that the whole army was wet to the skin every day in June. One great trouble was to keep our corn bread dry until we could eat it. But wet bread could be turned into "hot cush," whenever we stopped long enough to have a fire and the weather being warm, our clothing would get moderately dry between showers. The men had by this time gotton pretty tough, and looked tough, and like a set of toughs.

Falling back on June 15th, from the Pine mountain line, to the Kennesaw mountain line, to face Sherman, who was flanking to our left, the battery first took position close to the top of the main spur of the mountain, a little to the right and north of the top and entrenched along with a lot of infantry. The only Federals who got within our range at this position were a lot that crowded around a railroad water tank, at the foot of the mountain. We put a few shells through the tank scattering both Yanks and water. But the Yanks put a rifle battery off in the valley, out of our reach and went to work on us scientifically. They figured out our range and the very first shell burst about three feet exactly over our breastworks, and the next one or so killed one of our men, named Blackstock, a Georgian. A splinter clipped Horace Martin's ear--marked him. Lt. Hargrove was on the bare top of the mountain to see what he could see. They fired at him and the shell struck the ground in his front, and ricochetted over his head, end over end. It was certainly fine shooting and sport for those rifle gunners, and doubtless they enjoyed it. We certainly did not, but each got to a safe place and kept it, as soon as we found what those fellows could do at over a mile distance. This was on June 19th. As this position was a worthless one for our guns, we were ordered down and moved to the south edge of Little Rinnew, relieving another battery. The change was made during the night, and Lumsden was told that it was a hot place. So we worked on the entrenchments from about midnight when we had arrived until daylight. We made good embrasures, thickened the works in our front and dug trenches for our caisson wheels close behind works, so that axles lay on the ground. The limber chests were taken from gun carriages and placed on ground close up to the works. That afternoon, Col. Alexander, in command of the artillery along this line, came along and Capt. Lumsden told him that he'd like to find out what the enemy had over there. Col. Alexander told Lumsden, "Well, open on them and I'll order the rifle battery further up little Kennesaw to your right to support you." Lumsden gave him time to get up to the rifle battery, and then came his command: "Cannoneers to your posts!" Each gunner was told where to aim, and the estimated distance. Then: "Load! Battery ready! Fire!" Those Yankees opened on our four-gun battery, with twenty-four guns and the dirt was soon flying over and around us. We fired rapidly and so did the rifle battery, but directly a shell came through number 3 embrasure, killed Gurley, standing erect with thumb on vent, plunged into caisson just behind and exploded all three chests thereon. The flame exploded a cartridge lying on limber chest next to the breastwork and our own shell went rolling around promiscuously. Lt. Hargrove grabbed a slush bucket and proceeded to pour water into the limber chest with the smashed top, where fuses were fizzling and friction primers crackling in the tray above the loaded cartridges thereon. Some of the boys yelled at him to let that thing go, but he poured that water on, and put out those fuses. Every fellow was dodging our own shells for a few minutes.

A tin strap from one of the sabots struck Corporal John Watson on the tight seat of his pants, and he dropped flat, with his hands clapped on the place where he had felt the blow, yelling: "Oh, I'm wounded, I'm wounded." The laugh was on him, when it was found that his pants were not even split.

Gracious! How those Yanks did yell, when the column of smoke went high in the air from our exploded caisson. Well, all the satisfaction we got out of the affair, was that "We found out, what the enemy had over there," and we did not stir up that hornet's nest again. Occasionally, they would plug at us, but we would lie low and not reply. One of their 24-lb. rifled parrot shells ricochetted over from the front one day with out exploding. Some of the men got it unscrewed the percussion fuse from its point and poured out a lot of powder, then dug out some more with a sharp stick, until they thought it was about empty. Then private Dan Kelly, got hold of it, stooped down to a flat rock and jolted the point down on the rock. It struck fire, exploded and tore Kelly's arm and hand all to pieces. He was sent to hospital, then home, and I think died from the wound.

We more than evened up on the Yanks, a few days after, on June 27th, when Thomas's and McPherson's corps swarmed over their works and started for our lines in a determined assault. We filled the skirt of woods in front, full of shells until their lines appeared in the open, and then we swept the earth with canister and over their line of infantry made every bullet count, so that in our immediate front, they did not get nearer than 150 yards, and had to rush back to cover of their own entrenchments. Our command had no causalities that day, but many Federals were buried in trenches in our front, their total loss officially reported in the assault was 2,500.

Here is what is recorded in Federal official records:

"He (Sherman) Resolved: To attack the left center of Johnston's position, and orders were given on the 24th, that on the 27th, McPherson should assault near Little Kennesaw mountain (our position,) and that Thomas should assault about a mile further south, (to our left). Kennesaw was strongly entrenched, and held by Loring's and Hardee's corps, Loring on the right, opposite McPherson and Hardee on the left opposite Thomas. About 9:00 a.m. of the 27th, the troops moved to the assault and all along the line for ten miles a furious fire of artillery and musketry was kept up. A part of Logan's 15th corps, formed in two lines, fought its way up to the slope of Little Kennesaw, carried the confederate skirmish pits and tried to go further, but was checked by the rough nature of the ground, and the fire of artillery and musketry at short range from behind breastworks. Logan's assault failed with a loss of 600 men, and his troops were withdrawn to the captured skirmish pits * * * The assault was over by 11:30 a.m., and was a failure.

It was the most serious reverse sustained by Sherman during the campaign. The entire Union loss was nearly 2,500.

Johnston admits a Confederate loss of 808 killed and wounded. That ended Sherman's attempt to force our lines, and started his flanking operations again. Soon we were ordered back southwest of the Chattahoochee river, where we occupied a fort, overlooking the Western & Atlantic railroad bridge, and were soon faced by the enemy with infantry and artillery again entrenched, with a rifle battery on opposite side of river three-quarters of a mile away. They would occasionally try a little target practice at our fort. Our orders were to refrain from firing unless an attempt was made to cross the river. On our side there was merely infantry enough to picket the river.

The fort was an enclosed one, i.e., had parapet all around, and embrassures in all directions, as if built to stand a siege even if entirely surrounded by the enemy. Our four guns were its whole armament however, fronting the river and its destroyed bridge below us.

We here bivouaced at ease. The slope in rear of fort had some shade bushes and formed a comparatively safe camping grounds, but we lost one man here who was in rear of, and outside of the fort. A rifle shell just missed the front parapet, cut a furrow in the rear parapet, and took off the head of a private, named Maner, another Georgian. Some of us who were inside the fort saw his straw hat rise ten feet in the air and knew that another comrade had gone.

Here, on July 17th, at evening roll call, technically named the "Retreat" call, the memorable order was read to our command, relieving Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, and placing Gen. J. B. Hood, in command of the army. It was received in dead silence, and figuratively speaking "our hearts went down into our boots," or whatever happened to be covering our heel.

The army had still the fullest confidence in Johnston. They knew that for more than two months he had baffled Sherman in spite of his overpowering force of two to one, and had inflicted heavy losses on the enemy, with small loss to his own army either in men or material. They idolized Johnston and were ready to fight, whenever Johnston was ready. They believed "Old Joe" knew his business, and did not believe that Sherman could hold on to his line of supplies, and still surround the city. They believed that President Davis had made a terrible mistake, and that belief remains to the officers and men of the army of Tennessee to this day. They admired Hood, his personal character and gallantry, but they believed in Johnston as second only to Robert E. Lee, and that the Confederacy did not hold another man who could so well serve her.

Sherman moving the main portion of his army towards the northeast, covered by the Chattahoochee, but still holding the W. & A. railroad with his right wing, our battery was ordered to report to Gen. Wheeler, who with his cavalry was on the extreme right of our army. We were placed in position on the bank of the Chattahoochee, where a ravine entered the river at a very acute angle, forming a narrow ridge between river and ravine, so that by cutting down into the ground and throwing the dirt out toward the ravine, we made level places for our guns with a solid wall of earth as high as the muzzle of our guns, overlooking the slope toward the river, the hills opposite, and the Federal entrenchments along the upper edge of the fields with an embrasured battery in view. Our entrenchment, as described, made no show. We were there simply to guard against an easy crossing at this point.

Lt. A. C. Hargrove, next day was standing at the parapet near muzzle of 3rd piece talking to Corporal Maxwell, who was gunner to that piece. A puff of smoke came from a Federal embrasure across the river and both squatted below the protecting bank. The shell struck the body of an oak tree standing just in front, and some twenty feet above the ground, tearing off a heavy fragment, slightly larger than a man's forearm, which came down with force, the end cutting through Hargroves' hat on his forehead and to the skull, a gash two inches long. Maxwell said: "Lieut., they are cutting at us close," still looking to the front. Hargrove said: "Well, they got me." Maxwell turned around and there stooped Hargrove, hat on ground, and his hands to his head, with blood gushing through his fingers all down over him. He was much stunned with the blow, but when Maxwell spread the lips of the wound, and the blood ran out, the solid skull of his forehead showed uncrutched. Nevertheless the blow threatened concussion of the brain, and he was sent home for several weeks. Dr. N. P. Marlowe, then surgeon with Wheeler's corps taking him in his own ambulance to the Hospital, after dressing his wound.

The enemy crossing in force, lower down the river, our battery was retired from this position and placed on the main line of defense northeast of Atlanta, and was soon faced by the enemy again, after the battle of Peachtree Creek, with his entrenchments forming quite an angle in our front, some 800 yards away, but his lines stretched from that angle almost perpendicularly away from us toward his left.

On July 22nd, Hardee's corps of Confederates attacked Sherman's left and drove it for a long distance back toward his center. The right of this fleeing corps came into our range making for the protection of their works at this angle and Lumsden's guns shelled them just in front of their own works as they reached them, we firing over the heads of the Georgia militia, who were pushed forward across the valley as if to join in an assault, but were soon returned to their works after considerable loss.

Seeing these old citizens wounded and dying struck us with sympathy, with somewhat of the same feelings we might have experienced at seeing a lot of women sacrificed. They started in the charge, had withdrawn to the trenches again. We were accustomed to that with regular soldiers, but the sacrifice of these old citizens affected us to an unusual degree.

Being relieved from this position, by a battery attached to an infantry brigade that now occupied these trenches, we were sent to the rear and parked near a stream south of Atlanta to wash up clothing and rest a bit. But before our washing was dry, orders came to rush the battery to a position some five miles southwest of Atlanta. We went at a gallop, or trot, or walk as fast as we could rush the guns and caissons. With the cannoneers hanging on as best they could. Reaching the position just in time, meeting our infantry slowly falling back, before the enemy, fighting as they retreated. We rushed "into battery," on a hill at edge of open field, with the Federal infantry already past the way across the field and opened on them with our usual rapid fire. In ten minutes not a Federal could be seen except the few wounded or dead left behind.

It was a terribly hot July afternoon and the men with jackets, blankets, haversacks and all else possible strewn on the ground were panting like dogs, and so wet with sweat as if just out of a river, when they threw themselves down in the shade of the trees on the edge of the field after the firing ceased with the disappearance of the enemy. We had not lost a man. Our arrival and work was so quick that the enemy rushed to the rear at once to the cover of the forest. Our guns used some 33 or 34 rounds each in the short time in action.

All night infantry and artillery men worked with every available tool, down to the bayonet to loosen up the earth, and half of a split canteen to throw up the dirt and next morning found us entrenched in our new line. But on the other edge of the field, the Yankee trenches showed up some 800 yards away.

In this position Lumsden's battery remained nearly all the month of August. Every few days we would have an artillery duel with the rifle battery opposite. Sherman was now extending his right wing, which finally led to the assault of Love Joy station, on the road south of Atlanta. He had also brought down siege guns, that fired shells about the size of nail keg, and was shelling the city. One Sunday we had a particularly fierce duel with our opponents. It happened that the embrasure of the 3rd piece flared a little more squarely to the front of the others. Three whole shells struck the 3rd gun during the action, each coming through the embrasure only about one foot in width. One struck on top between trunnions and vent, gouging out the brass like a half round chisel would have gouged a piece of wood, and glanced on to the rear. The second struck gun carriage on left cheek, just in front of left trunnion and went into small fragments in every direction. The third struck the edge of the muzzle, and crushed it so that we could get no more shells into the gun. It was ruined temporarily, and had to be sent to the arsenal at Macon.

About this time, Gen. Hardee and staff rode up. He inquired: "What's the matter here?" "Nothing," said Lumsden, "but those fellows opened on us and I make it a point to give as good as they send." "Well, cease firing its doing no good, and we must husband our ammunition." Old man Lane had the front end of one foot cut off by a piece of shell. He was bringing up an armfull of cartridges from the caissons under the hill at the time, but did not throw down his load until he brought it to the gun, loudly proclaiming, that he hoped these shells would pay them back for his wound. But that was the end of his service in our army. He was over conscript age, but came as a substitute for some one who could pay for a man to take his place.