Читать книгу Atlanta - Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow - John R. Hornady - Страница 7

ON the Southeast corner of Whitehall and Alabama Streets at one of the busiest intersections in Atlanta, there stands one of the ancient iron lamp posts that adorned the City in the days of its youth — a short and slender relic of the antebellum period. Crowded by a huge ''white way" standard and overshadowed by a great office building, it is passed day after day by hurrying multitudes with scarcely a glance. Yet it is worth more than a cursory examination, for it constitutes what is, in the business section, the only visible reminder of the inferno through which Atlanta passed when day after day, for over a month, the shells of the Union Army rained upon the City.

At the base of this ancient post one observes that there is a hole, round and clear-cut, almost as large as the post itself, and from a small bronze tablet fastened to its top, he learns that this hole was made by a shell, for the inscription says in part:

''The damage to the base of this lamp post was caused by a shell during the War Between the States, Battle of Atlanta, July 22nd, 1864."

To read a tablet like this in an age like this, amid a scene like this, is to receive a distinct shock. Viewing the towering buildings that stretch block on block; seeing the endless stream of pedestrians, of automobiles and street cars, and listening to the roar and din of a great City that throbs with the noise of boundless energy, it is impossible to grasp at once the significance of what the words mean. They seem to suggest some wild and horrid hallucination, rather than to convey a sober truth, and one is prone to wonder if it can be a fact that shot and shell fell here so recently. If doubt leads to further observation, then doubt increases, for nowhere else is such evidence to be seen, so thoroughly has the work of rehabilitation been done. The word of the historian must be accepted for the visible evidence is gone, all save the slender iron pole, with its gaping hole and its tiny tablet of bronze.

The thoroughness with which the scars of war have been removed is one of the wonders of Atlanta. Deeper than those inflicted upon any other Southern city during those four years of bitter warfare, they have disappeared, vanished, gone like an evil dream, the last detail of which is forgotten when the sunlight of a new day floods the room and the hush of night gives way to the voice of birds.

While these impressions were flooding my mind as I looked upon the ancient lamp-post, I recalled how in my youth, when Atlanta was my home, I used to go with other boys to the old swimming hole in Peachtree Creek, and recalled also that we used to see about this creek the earthen works thrown up by the rival forces as they fought for the great prize which Atlanta constituted in the eyes of the military leaders. A great wilderness it was in those days, reached after a long walk beyond the point where the diminutive horse cars stopped to begin the return trip to the City. Through this wilderness one could see where the breastworks had wormed their tortuous way. Overgrown with trees and covered with underbrush at times, they still were discernible. So to Peachtree Creek I went, following the same course that was followed by the tiny horse cars some thirty years ago. But the horse car was gone, together with the horses, and instead of the mellow tinkle of the little bells that used to sway from the collars of the horses, was heard the crash of heavy cars and the restless honk-honk of hurrying automobiles. Nor was there a terminus at which one might alight and continue his way through the woods to the old creek. On and on the big cars thundered, crossing the creek and speeding forward to some remote suburb, followed, or passed, as the case might be, by the endless procession of automobiles and trucks.

The journey was made along a beautiful boulevard, which gained proportions of real magnificence as my destination was reached, and which maintained these proportions long after the broad sweep across Peachtree Creek. This wonderful highway penetrated the very heart of what had been a wilderness, and reaching out from it in all directions were other boulevards, flanked by stately homes. A beautiful and truly marvelous transformation; a transformation so thorough that I was completely lost. The creek was the only thing unchanged. It still made its tortuous way through what had been a wilderness, swift and red, as the waters were on those hot and terrible days when men fought upon its banks with so much of courage and so much of desperation, and when many sank into its turbid breast to find the peace that had been denied them in life.

All else was changed. A passenger station nearby poured out its baggage-laden throng. The cry of "taxi, taxi," floated across the valley. Street cars clanged. Here and there negroes propelled hand mowers across velvet-like lawns, where children played. In the distance smoke issued from stacks and drifted lazily away. Industry, too, had made its invasions. Clearly the days of hickory nut hunting and of swimming a la nature were things of the past. The vast solitude where men had fought and died and made glorious history existed no longer.

The old battle ground in this quarter has become a scene of beauty that might furnish the inspiration for an epic. The homes, many of them ranking among the most beautiful in Atlanta, set far back from the thoroughfares and are surrounded by grounds whose generous depth and native charm are suggestive of dignity and repose. A tablet here and there marks some spot where the tide of war reached the flood but by no other tokens could one learn that armies once were locked in fierce embrace upon this Very ground. Thus Atlanta has demonstrated that its powers of transformation are in no wise circumscribed.

Another day I rode for many miles about the City, over winding boulevards that skirted the high hills and swept gracefully through the valleys, passing many points where history was made — and graves were filled — while the armies in blue and the armies in gray fought for possession of the city, and it was not of war, but of peace at its best, that these scenes spoke.

It was mid-April, and every green thing seemed eager to become clothed with the vesture of Summer. Trees and shrubs put forth their tender shoots, covering hills and valleys with the most delicate shades and making the stately pines appear almost black. Wild honeysuckle splashed the hillsides with color, and here and there dogwood blossoms stood out like patches of snow left by reluctant Winter. Peach orchards were in bloom, and in more isolated places the ground was carpeted with purple violets, so thick at times that one scarcely could walk without stepping upon them. Scars nowhere, but beauty and peace everywhere!

Thus, as Atlanta reaped the fury of the storm of 1861-65, because of her great zeal for those principles for which the South poured out its wealth and its blood, so she has reaped the full and gracious fruits of peace because of the courage with which she faced the future and the zeal with which she led in the long, hard struggle to realize for the South the splendid heritage that remained, in spite of the devasting influences of war. As she was doubly punished then, she has been doubly rewarded since.

The first thrill of apprehension concerning the future of Atlanta as ''The Citadel of the Confederacy," came in the wake of the victory achieved by the Union forces at Chattanooga, where General Bragg, after a brilliant victory at Chickamauga, was overwhelmed, meeting the defeat which led to his voluntary retirement and the appointment of General Joseph E. Johnston as his successor.

General Sherman had assisted General Grant in the Chattanooga campaign, and shortly thereafter, upon the appointment of Grant as Lieutenant-General of the armies of the United States and his retirement to Virginia, Sherman was put in charge of the Department of Mississippi, which included Tennessee and Georgia. That General Sherman was fully alive to the value of Atlanta to the Confederacy, both morally and materially, there is no doubt, and every step in the game of strategy he played had for its ultimate aim the capture of this city.

The force which General Sherman directed against Atlanta, at the opening of the campaign, consisted of a fraction under one hundred thousand men, while General Johnston had at his disposal approximately forty-three thousand. Before the campaign was well under way, Sherman was reinforced by 14,000 cavalry, and later Blair's corps, consisting of 9,000 men, was added to his force. Meanwhile General Johnston received re-enforcements aggregating about 23,000. His army reached the maximum of fighting strength at the battle of Kennesaw Mountain, where he had 59,248 effectives.

With the approach of the Union forces, before whose overwhelming numbers the Confederates were being forced slowly to retire, apprehension began to be felt among the citizens of Atlanta, and every effort was made to insure the safety of the City. The Federals had begun (May 1, 1864) the repair of the Western and Atlantic Railroad between Ringgold and Chattanooga, with the obvious purpose of providing an unfailing source of supply, and meanwhile continued pressure was brought against the Confederate lines.

On April 26, 1864, ''The Intelligencer " called public attention to the peril of Atlanta, and shortly thereafter active preparations were under way for the defense of the city by Atlanta citizens. On May 9, notices were published calling upon "all persons between the ages of sixteen and sixty, not in the service of the Confederate States," to appear at the city hall "for the purpose of being armed and equipped for local defense." The "Local Militia" was organized among the forces thus enlisted, and on May 17 there was an inspection of troops for local defense, characterized at the time as "the finest military display in every respect that had ever been witnessed in Atlanta." From which one may well infer that the men of sixty and the boys of sixteen made a brave and gallant showing as they paraded along Marietta Street

With the passing of the days, apprehension grew, and on May 23, a proclamation was issued by Mayor James M. Calhoun, in the following language:

"In view of the dangers which threaten us, and in pursuance of a call made by General Wright and General Wayne, I require all male citizens of Atlanta, capable of bearing arms, without regard to occupation, who are not in the Confederate or State service, to report by 12 M., on Thursday, the 26th inst., to O. H. Jones, marshal of the city, to be organized into companies and armed, and to report to General Wright when organized. And all male citizens who are not willing to defend their homes and families are requested to leave the city at their earliest convenience, as their presence only embarrasses the authorities and tends to the demoralization of others. "

The extreme gravity of the situation may be gauged by the fact that no age limit was observed in the Mayor's proclamation, its provisions applying to ''all male citizens," instead of to those between the ages of sixteen and sixty, as theretofore.

Four days after the issuance of this proclamation. May 27, 1864, the people of Atlanta heard for the first time the thunder of the guns which ultimately were to play such havoc in their fair City. The enemy had reached their gates. The Federals had been repulsed at Rocky Face Ridge and Mill Creek Gap; Wheeler's cavalry had put Stoneman's cavalry to flight near Tunnel Hill, but the Confederates had met a severe repulse east of Oostanaula. The desperate battle of New Hope church had been fought, darkness bringing it to a close with indecisive results. On the 27th there was terrific fighting between Cleburne s division and the Fourth Federal Corps near Pickett's Mill, in which heavy losses were inflicted upon the Federals, but the following day the Confederates met a severe repulse.

Fighting desperately, .and scoring occasional local victories, the Confederates nevertheless were forced back steadily, and on June 4th General Johnston abandoned Acworth and Altoona, retiring to a position near Kennesaw Mountain, where occurred one of the most spectacular battles in the Atlanta campaign. The battle of Kennesaw Mountain proved another Confederate triumph, but, as on so many other occasions, "the Yankees wouldn't stay licked," and the result was merely to postpone the inevitable.

Describing this battle in his Memoirs, General Sherman said, ''About 9 A. M. of the day appointed (June 27, 1864) the troops moved to the assault, and all along our line for ten miles a furious fire of artillery and musketry was kept up. At all points, the enemy met us with determined courage and great force. McPherson 's column fought up the face of lesser Kennesaw, but could not reach the summit. About a mile to the right (Just below the Dallas Road) Thomas's assaulting column reached the parapet, where Brigadier-General Harker was shot down and mortally wounded, and Brigadier-General McCook (my old law partner) was desperately wounded, from the effects of which he afterward died. By 11:30 the assault was, in fact, over, and had failed. We had not broken the rebel line at either point."

In view of the inhuman methods resorted to by the Germans in the great World War, it is worthwhile to record here an incident which illustrates the presence of a contrary spirit among the Americans who were fighting one another in '61'-65. At the battle of Kennesaw Mountain the fire of the Confederates upon the Federals was so terrific that the woods were set on fire at a point where General Harker's forces had made a daring but futile assault. Here the ground was thickly strewn with the dead and dying, and when flames arose, threatening to burn the living with the dead, the Confederates were ordered to cease firing, one of their commanders calling to the Federals that fire would be withheld until the wounded could be carried off the field. Thereupon the battle ceased upon this front, and was not renewed until the wounded had been removed. Then the exchange of shot and shell was resumed with wonted fury. It was thus that brave men fought.

The severe repulse received by Sherman at Kennesaw Mountain, whose somber brow is clearly visible from Atlanta skyscrapers, had no material effect upon his plans. He pushed doggedly on. This battle was not over before he realized its futility, and before the last shot was fired, he had started a movement toward the Chattahoochee River. This caused an immediate evacuation of their positions by the Confederates, who crossed the river for the purpose of placing themselves between Atlanta and the oncoming army of Federals. The crossing of the Chattahoochee was effected by the Confederates on July 9th, the Federals pushing their forces across by the 17th, and thereby putting behind the last natural barrier that stood between them and Atlanta.

On June 16, the body of General Polk, the distinguished soldier-bishop, who had been killed the day before by a shell, was brought to Atlanta. Funeral services were held at St. Luke's Church, where the body had been escorted by a committee of prominent citizens. It was a time of great gloom in the City, and this atmosphere was deepened by the presence of the still form of this fallen leader. The victory at Kennesaw Mountain, which followed the death of General Polk by a few days, served temporarily to lift the pall of gloom, but subsequent events left little hope to those who felt that the fall of Atlanta meant the fall of the Confederacy, and who had longed for and prayed for some rift in the clouds.

Meanwhile there was much criticism over the failure of the government at Richmond to lend assistance to General Johnston, it being pointed out that a sufficient force of cavalry could have been run in behind Sherman, destroying his lines of communication and thereby making continued progress impossible. But no criticisms, no representations along this line, had effect, and no action was taken by the Richmond authorities until Sherman was upon Atlanta. At this point General Johnston was relieved of his command and General J. B. Hood was placed in charge. Thereupon much controversy arose concerning the wisdom of the step, the Confederate press expressing widely divergent views. However, the time came when it was generally conceded to have been one of the great blunders of the war. Sherman interpreted the change as meaning, that there would be a change in tactics; that under the impetuous Hood the Confederates would proceed to attack instead of merely resisting attack, and thereupon he caused notice of the change to be sent to all division commanders and warned them "to be always prepared for battle in any shape. "

News of the removal of General Johnston and the elevation of General Hood was conveyed to General Sherman by a Federal spy, who obtained a copy of a newspaper containing General Johnston's order relinquishing command, and escaped to the Federal lines. Thus General Sherman knew of the change within twenty-four hours.

The forces of General Sherman were arrayed about Atlanta in the following order: General Palmer on the extreme right. General Hooker on the right center, General Howard center. General Scofield left center, and General McPherson on the extreme left. A general advance was made on July 18, and Peachtree Creek was reached on the following day, a line of battle being formed along the south bank of the creek by Howard, Hooker and Palmer. In the meantime the left wing had moved around toward Decatur, where several miles of railroad was torn up for the purpose of cutting off any possibility of communication from that source.

Matters stood thus on the morning of the 20th, when a portion of General Hood's army made a sudden and determined assault upon Howard's position, the attack being extended presently to the position of General Hooker. This assault, carried on with the utmost courage and desperation, and involving about half of General Hood's forces, resulted in temporary gains, but before dark the Confederates, faced by overwhelming numbers, were forced to fall back, leaving several hundred of their dead upon the field. They had inflicted terrific punishment upon the enemy, especially among the forces of General Hooker, whose losses were about fifteen hundred.

On the day of this gallant but unsuccessful charge, Atlanta received her first baptism of fire from the guns of General Sherman. Only three shells fell in the city during the day, but the effect was more than ordinarily shocking, made so by the fact that the first one to fall killed a child at the intersection of Ivy and East Ellis Streets, the tragedy occurring in the presence of the father and mother of the child.

The following day, July 21, was devoted by both sides to preparations for what was to prove a decisive struggle. General Hood withdrew from the Peachtree Creek line and occupied the "last ditch" position which had been prepared for the defense of Atlanta; a fortified line facing North and East. Here Stewart's Corps, a part of Hardee's Corps, and G. W. Smith's division of militia, were stationed, while General Hood's own corps, and the remainder of Hardee's moved to a road leading from McDonough to Decatur, the purpose being to strike the left of McPherson's line. Meanwhile General wheeler's cavalry had been sent to Decatur for the purpose of attacking the supply trains of the enemy.

General Hood's supreme effort occurred on the 22nd, the following day, when a tremendous assault was made against the grand division of General McPherson, composed of Logan's and Blair's Corps, and which occupied the left of the Federal army. The assault was sudden and unexpected, and was carried with such fury that temporary success was achieved, but the enemy rallied to the shock, and was able to repel repeated charges, in spite of the desperate courage displayed by the men in gray. During this battle, General McPherson was killed, but General Logan assumed command at once and every assault of the Confederates was thrown back.

Having failed on the left. General Hood opened a determined attack upon Sherman's right at 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and carried forward the struggle for a time with conspicuous success. He broke through the main lines, capturing De Gre's battery of four twenty-pound Parrott guns, and turning the weapons upon the enemy. Superior numbers told, however, and in the end the Confederates were beaten back, being forced to abandon the captured guns.

The result of these engagements, in which the smaller forces of General Hood threw all that they possessed of courage and resourcefulness into the conflict, sealed the fate of Atlanta, but the end was not yet. The losses in this battle were heavy, and the Confederates, waging the offensive, suffered most severely. General Hood's losses were estimated at 6,000 killed and wounded, while those of General Sherman were placed at 3,500.

A truce was declared on the following day, July 23, for the burial of the dead, but this truce existed only upon the front where the fighting had raged. Meanwhile the shelling of Atlanta had been resumed, and was going along steadily while the Confederates consigned their dead to the grave.

A third attempt to inflict defeat upon the besieging army was made by General Hood on July 28, when Hardee's and Lee's infantry made a daring and spectacular attack upon the extreme right flank of the Federal army, commanded by General Logan. From 11:30 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon, the battle was waged with all the fury of desperation, but it, too, was futile. The enemy could not be dislodged. Here again, due to the nature of the fighting, the losses of the Confederates greatly outnumbered those of the Federals. General Logan placed his losses in killed and wounded at 572, while the Confederates suffered losses in killed and wounded aggregating some 2,700, the figures bearing witness to the valor they displayed in charging the defenses of the enemy time and time again.

From this time forward, throughout July, the Union forces made sundry efforts to break through the Confederate lines and enter Atlanta, but were repulsed on each occasion. Meanwhile the City was under fire and slowly but surely the damage from solid shot and explosive missies mounted upward. Early in August further attempts were made to penetrate the Confederate lines, attacks being launched on the 5th and 7th, but they were repulsed, as had been the previous assaults.

August came and brought with it a tightening of the lines about the city. The enemy was seeking to cut off every line of communication with the outside world, and in this he finally succeeded. Meanwhile the shelling of the City continued, reaching its greatest fury on August 16, on which date numerous citizens were killed and injured and immense damage to property resulted. The Confederates had stationed a huge gun at Peachtree and Kimball Streets, which they used with great effectiveness, but it served to concentrate the fire of the Federal gunners upon that quarter, resulting in great damage to numerous structures in the business section. Other guns stationed about the city boomed furiously in reply to the thunder of the enemy's weapons, and between the sound of these explosions, and the continual crash of exploding shells, the city became an inferno of noise, swollen at frequent intervals by the roar of a falling building. The very air was loathsome with the odor of burned powder, while a pall of smoke and dust overhung the City, so thick that the sun seemed a ball of feebly glowing sulfur.

This shelling of a city, with its thousands of helpless women and children, and its feeble old men, seemed a monstrous thing to General Hood, and he wrote a letter to General Sherman protesting in the most vigorous terms, but what he had to say made no impression upon the grim leader of the besieging hosts. General Sherman replied by charging General Hood with cowardice in seeking shelter in a city full of women and children and then appealing to the enemy for mercy, and reminding the General that war ''is the science of barbarism," the main object being to slay and destroy. After pronouncing this grim doctrine, he expressed love for the South, but made it evident that he considered it entitled to considerable punishment.

On the last day of August the final struggle between the contending forces in and about Atlanta was fought at Jonesboro, where the Confederates did their utmost to break the stranglehold of the Federals, but without success. With the loss of this battle hope for Atlanta vanished and General Hood prepared quickly to abandon the city.

The psychological effect of the fall of Atlanta was tremendous. The fight of the South had been waged with such relentless vigor, and had been crowned with so many successes, particularly under General Robert E. Lee, that the gloom throughout the North was intense. Though forced backed repeatedly by overwhelming numbers, the armies of the Confederacy seemed to be unbeatable, and there was a feeling that the struggle would be prolonged indefinitely. This condition had created so much dissatisfaction in the North that grave doubt existed concerning the re-election of President Lincoln. There was a very general demand for a change, and the administration viewed the approaching election with grave concern. Not only so, but there was in the North a strong sentiment in favor of closing the war by compromise.

With the fall of Atlanta, the change was electrical. The North foresaw the end, and was delirious with joy. The reelection of Lincoln was made certain, and talk of compromise was hushed.

This crowning disaster to Southern arms, came suddenly and was due largely to an entire change of tactics, following the supplanting of General Johnston by General Hood. The former had carried on a remarkable campaign, refusing to accept battle with the overwhelming forces of Sherman unless the conditions were favorable to his own forces; a method under which the maximum of punishment was inflicted upon the enemy and a minimum of loss was sustained by the Confederates. He lost much territory, but maintained an army upon a high state of efficiency, and it was an army that Sherman always approached with the utmost caution.

With the ascendency of General Hood, the aggressive was adopted, and the comparatively small forces under him were thrown against the mighty army of Sherman in magnificent assaults that accomplished no important results, but served to reduce the army in frightful fashion. This mode of fighting about Atlanta cost the Confederate army as many men, within a few hundred, as had been lost under Johnston during all the fighting that had occurred in the seventy-odd days preceding the change in commanders. In the interval between July 17, 1864, and February 23, 1865, When General Johnston was reinstated, the army which he had built up and which ho had conserved with masterly skill, was shot to pieces.

Following the fall of Atlanta, one of the most astonishing military developments in all history was witnessed. General Hood shortly thereafter turned his army toward Tennessee and in a little while General Sherman was headed for Savannah. Thus two forces that had faced one another and fought one another through weeks and months, were back to back — one sweeping practically unopposed through the State like a devouring flame, and the other headed for ultimate ruin upon another front. A unique and amazing spectacle!