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THE BATTLE OF SHILOH

Below are chapters 4-7 of my unpublished book about the Battle of Shiloh, which took place on April 6-7, 1862.  To read the concluding chapters, click here.   To return to the first 3 chapters, click

here.

CHAPTER FOUR:  THIS IS PERFECTLY PUERILE!

The early Southern spring brought much sickness to both the Union and Confederate camps; more than anything else, dysentery ran rampant.  The men in the Federal army called it the “Tennessee two-step,” and farther to the south, the affliction was being called the “Evacuation of Corinth.”  The Federal troops were able to rest and allow their many medicines to take effect, but the Confederates had no such luxury.  By early April, they were on the move in an effort to gain back Tennessee for the Southern cause.

On the morning of 4 April, a Union spy by the name of Horace Bell rushed into the camp of Lewis Wallace’s Third Division at Crump’s Landing with some startling news:  The entire Confederate army was on its way into Tennessee from Corinth.  Bell was not known for his credibility, but when a second spy confirmed Bell’s report later in the day, Wallace feared that the Confederates were in the process of reinforcing their detachment at Bethel.

Wallace notified Grant of the move, and Grant requested information from Sherman in order to confirm the report.  But Sherman’s men, on the southernmost point of the Federal camp, had no clue that the Rebels were approaching, and thus Sherman denied Wallace’s report.  Therefore, Grant told Wallace not to worry, but he would send him two batteries of artillery just to make him more comfortable.  Grant was confident that the Confederates were no nearer than Corinth.

But the Confederate army was indeed nearer than Corinth, and although they were moving at a pace much slower than intended, they were still undetected by the Federal high command.  Before dawn on 4 April, Major General William J. Hardee’s Third Corps was supposed to deploy across the entire army front.  Thus his line was to be three miles wide spanning from Owl Creek to Lick Creek, and he was to begin the attack at dawn.  Major General Braxton Bragg’s Second Corps was to deploy across the same front 1000 yards behind Hardee.  Major General Leonidas Polk’s First Corps was to deploy behind Bragg’s left wing, while Brigadier General John C. Breckinridge was to deploy behind Bragg’s right wing.  At sunrise on 4 April, the Confederate attack was to begin in full force.

But things were managed badly.  In the first place, the plan designed by Beauregard was inspired by the plan of three successive waves of attack envisioned by Napoleon at Waterloo nearly half a century earlier.  Tactics had changed vastly since then, and as both armies would soon find out, so had weaponry.

Second, Hardee was blocked by Polk’s corps on the Ridge road, and he did not reach the midpoint of the march--Mickey’s farmhouse--until 12 hours after the estimated time of arrival.

Third, Bragg was even slower, mainly because he had much more men to command, and a majority of them were completely green.  By noon on the 4th Bragg’s lead column had only reached Monterey, the halfway point between Corinth and Mickey’s.

Finally, Breckinridge did not clear his corps out of Burnsville until 3 o’clock on the morning of the 4th.  Regardless of where anybody was, the entire Confederate army was way behind schedule, something very dangerous to be when an attack relies on the element of surprise.

During the early morning hours of the 4th, Bragg took time out to hold a briefing with his division and brigade commanders.  Bragg explained to them what he knew about the terrain ahead, the Federal position, and the primary Southern objective.  The Confederate army was to turn the Federal left flank away from the Tennessee and push the enemy towards Owl Creek where there would be no escape for him.  Bragg estimated that after a full day and night’s march, the army would be ready to attack at dawn on 5 April.  And although Bragg was still chief of staff for the army, he was relieved of all staff work once the march began.

Upon moving out of Corinth, Beauregard and Jordan assumed most of the army’s staff work.  This probably explained why the Rebel artillery was so disorganized, something that greatly distressed Bragg.  The staff work was better suited for Bragg, but it was impossible to control his own corps and all the army’s paperwork simultaneously.  Beauregard was the likely candidate to take over the administration aspects once the advance began because he had no particular troops directly under his command, and he was forced to trail behind due to a respiratory infection.  Also, it was Johnston’s wish that all the corps commanders would stay with their respective units during the movement.

The initial plan was indeed intricate, and although nobody voiced any displeasure of such a complex strategy at the outset, Bragg would later curse Beauregard for being so hard on green troops.  In reality, all the Confederate commanders were hard on the troops, for they all simply expected too much from them.  Bragg, the most rigid of all the commanders, was at his hot-tempered worst, spending most of the time during the movement riding around shouting orders and curses at everyone he could find.

To make matters worse, the roads from Corinth to Monterey were very bad.  Bragg did not complete his concentration at Monterey until noon on the 4th, and Polk was still ahead of him.  Polk had to halt his troops so Bragg’s corps could pass and get behind Hardee.  In the early afternoon, Bragg notified Polk that he was not going to divide his corps as the plan indicated.  Instead, he would move his entire corps up the Savannah road and stop at Mickey’s.  As a result, Polk decided to halt for the day.  After all, he was already four miles short of Mickey’s, and he had to wait for Bragg to get ahead of him before he could move.  In fact, Polk’s corps had reached the Purdy intersection on midday of the 4th and there they waited for Bragg’s order to continue.  Polk waited for nearly three hours to learn that Bragg had changed his route.  It was Bragg’s corps which slowed both Hardee and Polk, and by nightfall, Polk bivouacked ahead of Bragg.  The Confederate alignment was still out of joint.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that there would be no attack at all on the 4th as originally planned.  It was already supposed by the late morning that the attack would have to be delayed for a day, and at five o’clock in the evening, Johnston, Beauregard and Jordan decided to officially reset the attack for the morning of the 5th.  Jordan prepared written orders, and as he was doing so, Hardee was stopped at Mickey’s, Polk was stopped just short of Mickey’s, and Bragg was still moving to get to Mickey’s.  Within a few hours, Breckinridge’s troops would arrive in the vicinity after spending the day on a 23-mile forced march.

Less than 15 miles away, it was just another ordinary day in the Federal camp on the 4th.  Confederate cavalry had been spotted quite often around the Union camps, but because it had become so common there seemed to be no real cause for alarm.  There was never any sign of infantry, so the cavalry could not have possibly been attacking.  Cavalry without infantry support was primarily used for observation, according to contemporary military tradition.

Both Sherman and McClernand had reported to Grant about sporadic enemy activity on their fronts, but every day Grant personally inspected the Union positions at Pittsburg Landing and Shiloh Church and found “all quiet.”  By the morning of the 4th, Grant was extremely troubled by the injured ankle he sustained the previous night.  He still could not get his boot off, and he could not walk without crutches.  When he rode out to Pittsburg Landing, he had his crutches lashed to the saddle of his horse.

Although Grant was unaware of any major Confederate activity, he was not ignorant as to what was in store for both armies.  On the evening of 3 April, Grant notified Halleck that soon he expected to fight “the greatest battle of the war.”  Grant was just unclear as to where that battle would be fought.  He wired Halleck the next night and assured him, “The temper of the Rebel troops is such that there is little doubt but that Corinth will fall much more easily than Donelson did when we move.  All accounts in saying that the great mass of the rank and file are heartily tired.”  The accounts he was referring to were of a few Southern prisoners and local civilians who were not eager to be honest to their interrogators.  And Federal reconnaissance was unable to prove otherwise, so it was universally decided that Confederate morale was at its lowest point.

But the Federal pickets, especially in Sherman’s camp, knew that morale was anything but low on the Confederate side.  Picket duty had often made soldiers frightened due to the danger involved.  Pickets were easy targets for enemy skirmishers, and with Rebel cavalry on the loose for the past few days, the duty was even more precarious.  On the morning of 5 April, it was reported that one of Sherman’s regiments lost seven pickets in night before.  But that was expected of such a task, especially this far into enemy territory.

Had a battle taken place on 4 April, the Confederates would have easily routed the Federals.  Buell’s Army of the Ohio was still two days away, and according to all reports from the Union high command, there was no clue as to there being a counteroffensive launched against them.  As slow as it was, it was still undetected, and thus the important element of surprise was still intact.  But the Confederate commanders were overwhelmed with so many problems that they scarcely had the time to consider the Federals were still unaware of their presence.

At two o’clock on the morning of 5 April, a heavy rain began falling which soon turned into a torrential downpour.  Hardee’s troops were to begin moving at three o’clock, but by that time, the roads ahead for the Confederates to traverse were nothing but mud; they were virtually impassable.  Jordan’s orders written and issued the day before called for Hardee to be ready to attack at three, but obviously that was no longer possible.  The only hope was to wait for the sun to emerge from the clouds and dry the roads enough for the columns to move once more.

The march had been tedious and wearisome, and the roads had been narrow and curved through densely wooded country.  And now, so close to the Union lines, another delay was taking place.  There was no movement by anyone until dawn, and by then, Bragg was still out of position.  It would take him several more hours to get behind Hardee’s main line.

By 10 o’clock in the morning, Hardee was in the process of deploying his units along a three-mile battle front.  His right wing was unable to reach Lick Creek, so Brigadier General Adley Gladden’s brigade from Bragg’s corps took up position to the right.  It was still not long enough, so Bragg sent Chalmers’ brigade up and finally Hardee’s line was complete.  As to what was happening behind him, it was a different story.

Polk was still delayed until Bragg’s corps completely filed out onto the Bark road.  Bragg’s advance elements began at seven o’clock in the morning, but the rest of his corps was still very far behind.  Polk thought that the trailing units had already passed, therefore he moved in front of them.  What resulted was an almost hopelessly tangled mass of troops on one narrow road.

It was approximately eight o’clock when Johnston arrived on the scene.  He and Beauregard had spent the night at Monterey, and they had both expected the movements to be near completed now.  They had assumed that the army had been moving since dawn.  Johnston impatiently watched Bragg’s men array themselves on the right column, and he finally sent a staff officer off to ask Bragg where his left division could be found.  Johnston got a reply from Bragg that someone had gone off to look for it.  So Johnston continued to wait.

After another two hours, Johnston was incensed.  He set out himself to recover the “lost division” and bring it into line; his temper completely burst as he exclaimed, “This is perfectly puerile!  This is not war!”  He rode off and eventually found the division blocked from the road by Polk’s men.  This almost threw Johnston into a frenzy.  He immediately ordered the entire road cleared, and by two o’clock that afternoon, the last of Bragg’s corps finally passed to the front.  The second wave of attack was now in place.

Meanwhile, the delay did have one good point to it.  Cheatham’s division was able to make a forced march from Bethel to join Polk’s main force at Mickey’s farmhouse.  Now Polk had both of his divisions, and he was ready to deploy by four o’clock on the afternoon of the 5th.  Breckinridge’s corps was in place also, and now the Confederate army was ready for battle.  The first line was a mere one and a half miles from Shiloh Church, due southwest.

Hardee was arrayed between Owl and Lick Creeks.  Beauregard had moved two brigades of Bragg’s ahead to cover the right wing of the first line, and Bragg’s main force was arrayed in an equal battle line 800 yards behind.  Polk was at Mickey’s, to the left of the Bark road, while Breckinridge was assembled to the right of the Bark road.  Everything was ready for an attack to finally begin on the morning of 6 April, but another problem was taking root which would eventually cause great controversy in the South.

The Confederate troops were creating so much noise while they were marching that Beauregard was certain the Union troops were aware of their presence.  The Rebels had marched forward, ignorant of the objective of the march, whooping and shouting and driving their officers into a frenzy.  Because of the heavy rain, many men who had never before fired their rifles now fired them indiscriminately just to see if they would go off when wet.  Also, Hardee had notified Bragg that morning that some of his troops had been involved in a skirmish with several Federal companies in their front.  They had repulsed the Union attack, but it was probably safe to venture that their cover had been blown.  The element of surprise was disintegrating.

In between four and five o’clock on the afternoon of the 5th, Polk was summoned to see Beauregard in a rather hasty manner.  He arrived at the crossroads where he was to meet him and found Bragg and Beauregard in the middle of a heated conversation.  Both Bragg and Beauregard were in poor health, and they were both prone to intense mood swings from arrogance to despair.  In short, both were unstable and now they were in the middle of the road discussing something intensely.  When Polk arrived, Beauregard immediately turned to him.

“I am very much disappointed at the delay which has occurred in getting the troops into position,”  Beauregard began.

“So am I sir, but so far as I am concerned my orders are to form on another line, and that line must first be established before I can form upon it,” Polk answered.

The blame went all the way around.  Beauregard blamed Polk for the delay.  Polk in turn blamed Bragg for making him stand idle while his corps passed.  Bragg in turn blamed poor weather, untrained troops, and poor planning.  Beauregard was the most upset of them all, and as the conversation continued, both he and Bragg became more and more pessimistic about the upcoming attack.  Beauregard explained to Polk and Bragg that success depended upon surprise, and due to the great delay and the noisy demonstrations by green troops, the Federal forces would now be “entrenched to the eyes.”  Beauregard’s final solution was to abandon the attack, make a reconnaissance in force, and return to Corinth.

It was now near five o’clock, and Johnston rode up to the conference with Jordan and his staff.  In fact, each general had his staff with him, and all the members were occupying themselves down the road while this impromptu conference was taking place.  Bragg leaned towards Beauregard’s opinion, and both of them were willing to risk another blow to Confederate morale by retreating before even giving battle.  But Johnston’s reputation was at stake here, and he was not yet willing to take that risk.  He listened to Bragg and Beauregard attentively as they explained that the element of surprise was lost, and the Union troops were sure to know they were there.  Johnston continued to listen courteously, and then he finally declared, “We shall attack at daylight tomorrow.”  He declared it quietly, but sternly enough to convince both Bragg and Beauregard that he would not be swayed.  They left disappointed.

It is possible that Johnston overruled Beauregard simply because he was beginning to resent Beauregard’s tendency to dictate everything.  After all, Beauregard did alter the plan Johnston wired to Jefferson Davis on 3 April, and he left no time for Johnston to order a return to the original.  In addition, the condition of the Confederate war effort in the west had been deteriorating ever since Grant’s victory at Fort Donelson in mid-February, and many politicians and reporters blamed Johnston for the decline.  To risk retreating now could have potentially meant the end of Albert Sidney Johnston’s military career, and his sense of honor was being questioned.  He did not want to disappoint all who had placed so much faith in him, especially President Davis, his greatest admirer.  Johnston was still the commander-in-chief of the Confederate Army of the Mississippi, and he was going to fight.

A few miles down the Tennessee River, Grant was at Pittsburg Landing inspecting the camps.  During the day of the 5th, there had been a few minor skirmishes with Confederate cavalry, and a few Federal companies had encountered Hardee’s main line.  But they were totally unaware that they had met an entire corps; they merely believed that they were up against a reconnoitering force supporting the cavalry that had been spotted for the past few days.  Therefore, Beauregard’s fear that the Union forces knew of their presence was incorrect.  And the Union troops were not “entrenched to the eyes,” rather, there were no earthworks of any kind anywhere.  The Federals still maintained an attacking attitude, so they built no defense.

Grant confidently wired Halleck once more:  “I have scarcely the faintest idea of an attack (general one), being made upon us but will be prepared should such a thing take place.”  He was apparently humoring Halleck’s cautious nature, because he was not prepared for anything of the sort.  The Union troops were convinced of their security, and many soldiers fancied the camp at Pittsburg Landing as a sort of giant picnic in the lovely Tennessee spring.  Anybody who sounded any kind of alarm was quickly ridiculed.

For example, Colonel Jesse J. Appler of the 53rd Ohio informed his division commander, Sherman, of strong enemy activity on his front.  Sherman gave him a stiff rebuke:  “Take your damned regiment back to Ohio.  Beauregard is not such a fool as to leave his base of operations and attack us in ours.  There is no enemy nearer than Corinth.”  Sherman had ridden out to look for himself earlier, and his own personal reconnaissance prompted such a terse response.  All in all, the Union camp was blissfully unaware.

Also, there was now more reason for the Federals to feel secure.  Early on the 5th, the head division of Buell’s Army of the Ohio arrived at Savannah to meet with Grant.  This was General William Nelson’s division, and the commander spent most of the day getting his army camped near Grant’s headquarters.  Grant met with him and urged him to take his time in getting his men across the Tennessee; perhaps on Monday the 7th or Tuesday the 8th he would provide boats for Nelson’s men to get to Pittsburg Landing.  After all, Buell’s main force was still two days away, and there was no sense in hurrying.

Buell himself arrived in Savannah on the night of the 5th, and being informed that Grant was still at Pittsburg, he turned in for the evening.  But a lapse in staff work had taken place; Grant was at Savannah aboard his headquarters boat Tigress where he sat and talked with staff members and acquaintances until midnight before retiring to the Cherry Mansion.  Neither Grant nor Buell knew that the other was in town.

Grant was very confident.  He now had nearly 42,000 men, twice the number he had when he had captured Fort Donelson.  Now he was finally on his way to getting ready for the major thrust into the heart of the South.  With this thrust the war, in Grant’s eyes, would soon wind to a close in the west.  In the meantime, life in the Union camp was quite mellow and easy; riverboats were playing patriotic music every day.  Had the troops been entrenched, their position would have been impregnable.

Two miles away on the night of the 5th, Johnston was sitting near a campfire with his staff.  Bragg and Beauregard had gone to bed; tension, frustration, and fatigue had finally gotten the better of them.  These three elements certainly contributed to the fact that the two had lost their nerve at the last moment.

In stark contrast, Johnston was relaxed and confident.  He told a staff officer shortly after the impromptu conference, “I would fight them if they were a million.  They can present no greater front between those two creeks than we can, and the more men they crowd in there, the worse we can make it for them.”  Johnston’s intuition was keener than Beauregard’s.  The previous Confederate retreats gave the Union a false sense of Southern morale, and they downplayed Johnston’s qualities as a commander as well.  To turn a retreat into a full-scale counteroffensive is probably the most difficult maneuver in warfare, and nobody from the North ever dreamed that Johnston could do it.  Johnston could indeed do it, but the manner in which he planned to do it was outdated.  In fact, many contemporary generals were completely unaware of the changes in warfare since the Mexican War of 1847.

Johnston’s comment to his staff said it all:  “The more men they crowd in there, the worse we can make it for them.”  This would have been excellent strategy if it was said in 1847.  But technological changes no longer gave the attackers an advantage over crowded defenders.  The generals did not realize how obsolete the tactics they learned at West Point were.

For one thing, officers still relied too much upon the bayonet.  Bayonets were once the weapon of honor, but the inventions of the rifled musket and the Minie ball in the 1850s changed that.  Rifles were now accurate up to 400 yards, and they could be fired three times per minute.  For the first time in over a century, defenders had a decisive advantage in warfare.  Rifles coupled with entrenchments made Civil War defense three times greater than offense.

For another thing, commanders were somewhat aware of these technological advances, but many of them believed that the defense could be offset simply by moving faster in battle, preferably at the double-quick.  Telegraphs and railroads made the Civil War the first of modern wars, but once battles began, notes were sent by courier on horseback just as they had always been.  As a result, generals were still bound to close-order formations.  They did not understand that they needed to disperse their men to combat the rifle, and even if they did understand this principle, it is unlikely that they would have ever done it.  It would have weakened communications and a commander’s control over a battle would be compromised.  Consequently, in the Civil War, the old met the new and losses were fearfully severe as a result.

Still, Johnston had good reason to be confident by contemporary standards.  He sat at the campfire until midnight, reminiscing and going over the battle that was to take place the following day.  “I believe I will hammer ‘em beyond doubt,” he commented to a subordinate.  And as his staff turned in for the night, Johnston announced to them, “Tomorrow at 12 o’clock we will water our horses in the Tennessee River.”  Then they left him alone at the fire for the night to contemplate what would soon be the climax of his life.

P. G. T. Beauregard’s condition was a different matter.  He was very distraught at the thought of attacking an entrenched enemy in the morning, and he was certain that the Confederate army was headed for its doom.  Physically, his condition was just as bad.  He had been fighting a respiratory infection for the past month, and it was not getting any better.  All told, General Beauregard seemed totally unnerved by the miscarriage of his plans over the past few days.  This greatly contrasted with Johnston, who seemed poised and well balanced in the face of all the mishaps.  Beauregard knew that there would be no persuading Johnston to change his mind, so he accepted the decision and readied himself to retire for the evening.

As Beauregard headed for his headquarters to catch a few hours’ sleep, Hardee stopped him and asked him if he would kindly ride in front of the troops in the morning to provide an inspiration.  Beauregard was reluctant to comply at first, but after a bit of prodding by Johnston, Beauregard finally agreed.

Beauregard then issued the final orders of the night for Hardee’s men.  There was to be absolutely no cheering, even when Beauregard rode before them the following morning.  For security reasons, only fires made in holes in the ground were to be allowed, and indiscriminate firing of weapons was prohibited.

Hardee passed the orders on, and Beauregard set out to retire.  As he departed from the front, the sound of a drum beating in the distance caught his attention.  He immediately sent a staff officer to silence the noise, and he was shocked to learn when the man came back that the drum was being beaten in a Union camp.  This was how close the armies lay together on the night of 5 April.  Beauregard had apparently been so unnerved that he had forgotten to order his staff to set up a tent for him.  So he climbed into the ambulance wagon to sleep.

Everything was tranquil on the Union front.  Sherman’s men were asleep for the night, and most of Prentiss’ men were also.  Prentiss had sent Colonel David Moore and a couple companies of his 21st Missouri Infantry regiment on a reconnaissance mission on the evening of the 5th after hearing rumors that enemy skirmishers were nearby.  They were nearby, but they were on a different road than the one Moore and his men traveled down.  Therefore, Moore returned to Prentiss and informed him that nothing was out there.  Earlier, the chief engineer of the Union army, Colonel James B. McPherson, personally reconnoitered the Hamburg road in front of Stuart’s brigade, and he too found nothing.  But still there was one skeptical brigade commander in Prentiss’ division.

Colonel Everett Peabody commanded the First Brigade of Prentiss’ Sixth Division, and he was a very cautious man by nature.  He was also very eager for a fight.  He ordered a some reconnaissance himself, and he happened to stumble upon the lead skirmishers of General Wood’s brigade under Hardee.  Major James Powell of the 25th Missouri Infantry and Lieutenant Colonel William H. Graves of the 12th Michigan Infantry were sent out with a few companies from each unit to find the enemy.  They went down different roads, and they found activity in their front.  By five o’clock on the morning of 6 April, Peabody had sent skirmishers forward to meet the enemy in front of Fraley’s field, a large plateau in front of the First Brigade.  Peabody did this without permission, so he would inevitably pay for his indulgence.  But he would also become a key person in the upcoming clash due to his keen intuition when the rest of the army slept soundly through the night.

As day broke on the morning of the 6th, the Confederate troops rose from an uncomfortable sleep.  They slept under the stars the night before, most of them under orders to sleep beside their weapons without the comfort of blankets.  It was cold and damp, but as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, it seemed to burn the mist off the grass.  The Confederates were assured that it was most certainly another sun of Austerlitz.

CHAPTER FIVE

YOU MUST BE BADLY SCARED OVER THERE

An attack was now imminent from a Confederate standpoint, and although Grant would deny it until the day he died, he would certainly be taken by surprise when the attack finally commenced.  Brigadier General William T. Sherman’s Fifth Division was camped at the southwestern edge of the Union camp, near a little log meetinghouse called Shiloh Church.  It was a Methodist temple modestly built, and its name was derived from the Hebrew tongue.  From the first Book of Samuel, the name meant “place of peace.”

Sherman’s First Brigade was led by Colonel John A. McDowell, and it was situated on the extreme right in order to guard the bridge over Owl Creek on the Purdy road.  The Third Brigade was led by Colonel Jesse Hildebrand, and it was situated to the left of the Corinth road.  Its right wing was anchored at Shiloh Church.  The Fourth Brigade was led by Colonel Ralph P. Buckland, and it was situated to the right of the Corinth road.  Its left wing was anchored at Shiloh.  The Second Brigade was led by Colonel David Stuart, and it was situated on the extreme left of the Union line, on the other side of Prentiss’ camps, guarding the ford over Lick Creek.  Sherman also had two batteries of artillery, and eight companies of cavalry.  Taylor’s battery was posted at Shiloh, and Allen C. Waterhouse’s battery was placed in the center of the Third Brigade.  The cavalry was placed in the rear of the camp in the virtual center of Sherman’s division.

To Sherman’s left and Stuart’s right lay the Sixth Division, newly created and commanded by Brigadier General Benjamin M. Prentiss.  Prentiss had a qualified reputation as a fighter; he had cleared northwest Missouri of Rebels the previous year.  He was of the majority opinion that there were no Confederates in the area, and faulty reconnaissance proved him correct in his assumption.  But one brigade commander in the division was not so sure.  And against any written orders from Prentiss himself, the First Brigade set out to find the enemy in its front.

On Saturday night the 5th, there had been considerable skirmishing that had drawn some attention from certain Union commanders.  A detachment of Confederate cavalry under Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest traded shots with Stuart’s outposts on Lick Creek.  Also, there were reports of a Confederate presence in front of the outposts of Company A of the 16th Wisconsin Infantry, led by Captain Edward Saxe.  These outposts belonged to the First Brigade in Prentiss’ division, and news reached the brigade commander, Colonel Everett Peabody, around midnight.

Peabody was a self-made man who had accumulated riches as a railroad engineer before the war.  Now, as a commander, he was just as ambitious in his efforts to bring victory to the Union as he was at making money.  Something had not seemed right around the Federal camp the past few days, and he only needed confirmation of his suspicions in order to act upon them.  He got that confirmation from Major James Powell, who reported a huge sprawl of campfires a mile or so up the road past Company A.  This revelation coincided with Saxe’s report.  At three o’clock on the morning of the 6th, Peabody sent a 300-man reconnaissance consisting of the 25th Missouri Infantry and the 12th Michigan Infantry forward to locate the enemy in exact terms.  They received much more than they had bargained for.

Ironically enough, what was supposed to have been a surprise Confederate attack on Union positions began as a Federal attack on a Confederate detachment.  Powell and his reconnaissance met up with enemy skirmishers just before five o’clock and opened fire.  Within a half hour, a few companies of the 3rd Mississippi Infantry led by Major Aaron Hardcastle came up to join the fray.  Both sides traded volleys, and the fight was on.  Lieutenant Frederick Klinger of the 25th Missouri became the first casualty of many on this day.

The firing soon intensified as the entire Confederate line began emerging from the woods.  Peabody was able to tell from the sound of the firing that there was more than just skirmishers in his front.  He soon sent the 21st Missouri as reinforcement, and soon after the wounded and scared remnants of the 25th Missouri and the 12th Michigan began running back to camp.  It was they who informed Peabody of what he was up against, and the long roll of camp drums sounded the general alarm for the First Brigade.

The rest of the 25th Missouri and the 12th Michigan regiments were sent out, and also the 16th Wisconsin.  They all rushed into Fraley field, eager for their first fight.  They would soon find out that it was not worth the wait.  The 21st Missouri was the first to arrive, and they met up with an advance from the 8th and 9th Arkansas.  The 21st was happy to oblige its border enemies until suddenly Confederate reinforcements appeared all along the western Corinth road, surrounding Fraley field.  It was the right wing of the first Confederate line under General William Hardee.

Peabody sent couriers to Prentiss, who just hours before was convinced that his position was safe.  As a result, he did not take the message that a full-scale engagement was taking place too kindly.  He and Peabody were never on friendly terms, but now Prentiss was enraged at this blatant disregard of his orders.  Prentiss was sticking rigidly to Grant’s order, which had come from Halleck a few weeks before:  Do not under any circumstances provoke a general engagement from your present position.  Prentiss believed that Peabody had done just that, and now his division would have a fight on their hands that they did not want.

Prentiss rode his horse into the camp of the First Brigade almost leisurely, merely expecting Peabody to be overreacting towards some heavy picket fire.  But when he got there, Prentiss realized that it was much more than just a heated skirmish.  It seemed that a major battle was brewing, Prentiss’ worst fear.  He galloped up to Peabody and shouted to him, “Colonel Peabody, I will hold you personally responsible for bringing on this engagement!”

As Peabody mounted his horse, he instantly shouted back, “Sir, I am always responsible for my actions!”  Then Peabody proceeded to ride through his brigade and ready it for the battle that had opened with a fury in his front.  Fraley field was actually due south of Sherman’s camps, and as Peabody’s men fell back, they were leaving Sherman’s unexpecting pickets exposed to the left wing of Hardee’s first wave.  That left wing was now in motion.

A couple miles to the south, General Albert Sidney Johnston arose before daybreak after a few hours’ sleep and quickly awoke his staff.  Johnston saw soldiers sitting all around him silently eating hasty breakfasts; it was a very tense and solemn moment absorbed by the grim realities of war.  Before Johnston had retired the previous night, he conferred with a few Federal prisoners who had confirmed his gamble.  If they were to be taken at their word, then the Union expected no attack.

As Johnston dressed for the battle on the 6th, he was joined by General Beauregard and a little later, by Major General Braxton Bragg.  All three men were accompanied by their staff members on the Pittsburg-Corinth road.  Beauregard had not slept well in the ambulance wagon, and he still doubted the wisdom of attacking.  Both he and Bragg were in the process of making one final plea to abandon the battle when the dull, jarring sound of guns began echoing through the woods around them.  Johnston’s face lit up as he turned to the officers surrounding him.  “The battle has opened, gentlemen.  It is too late to change our dispositions now.”

Johnston mounted his thoroughbred bay named Fire-Eater and instructed Beauregard to stay in the rear to supervise the movement of troops and supplies to the front.  Johnston announced that the battle had opened in grand style, and he was going to accompany the forward line.  In so doing, Johnston effectively relinquished control of the battle to Beauregard, which in time would prove to be a rather confusing move to the Confederate army.

Johnston rode forward and spoke confidently to his staff.  He turned to Colonel William Preston, who happened to be his son-in-law and said, “I never see you but I think of William (Johnston, the general’s son).  I hope you may get through safely today, but we must win a victory.”

The general put a kind hand on the shoulder of a young staff officer who had served with him against the Mormon rebellion in Utah and said, “My son, we must this day conquer or perish.”

Johnston rode down the lines of marching Confederates and also urged them on.  He announced to one regiment, “I am glad to find you in such good spirits.  I think we will beat the Yankees out today.”  And to another he exclaimed, “Well boys, look down the muzzle of your guns, and aim low.  Today you will have warm work to do!”

Johnston came across an Arkansas brigade commanded by a close friend of his, Brigadier General Thomas Hindman.  First, he spoke to Hindman:  “You have earned your spurs as a major general.  Let this day’s work win them.”  Then, Johnston turned to the brigade and proclaimed:  “Men of Arkansas!  They say you boast of your prowess with the bowie knife.  Today you wield a nobler weapon, the bayonet.  Employ it well!”  Everywhere he went, Johnston was stirring enthusiasm, giving men the will to win.

What had begun as a dismal, damp and cold spring day was transforming into a beautiful Tennessee morning.  The rising sun burned the mist out of the air, and Confederate soldiers marched forward with confidence.  By six o’clock in the morning, the first line of Major General Hardee’s Third Corps was in full motion towards the Union camps.  They were sprawled out along a three-mile front, with artillery distributed between the first and second lines. 

While the advance regiments of Peabody’s First Brigade were slowly being rolled back towards their camps northeast of Fraley field, the men of Sherman’s Fifth Division were unaware of what was happening directly south of them.  Reveille sounded for the division at five-thirty, and the soldiers leisurely rolled out of bed.  They took turns relieving themselves behind their tents and filled canteens with water for boiling coffee.  They lit campfires and poked bayonets to hang pots.  Then they proceeded to fry their bacon and boil their coffee.

From Shiloh Church to Pittsburg Landing, Union camps dotted the landscape all the way.  There was little undergrowth around them, and the thin ranks of the tall forest trees afforded open views.  The trees’ topmost boughs made a picturesque canopy.  From a military perspective, the field was broken country, offering a wide range of maneuvers and independent operations by comparatively small groups of men.  With this knowledge, it was little wonder that the Union high command expected no attack.  They thought it foolhardy for a large mass of troops to attack their base of operations, and detachments of enemy soldiers could have been decimated piecemeal.

Sherman’s men felt especially safe because their scouting, like Prentiss’, was inefficient the past few days.  Sherman was aware of sporadic Confederate detachments in his front, but he was determined not to attack them in accordance with Halleck’s order to wait for Buell to arrive.  On the night of the 5th, Sherman had written to Grant, “I do not apprehend anything like an attack on our position.”  But the Rebels were on their way.

As Peabody’s forces were being driven back, the full Confederate assault was beginning to gather steam.  The 12th Michigan, 16th Wisconsin, 21st and 25th Missouri were all driven back, and this was Peabody’s entire brigade.  As they fell back, the left flank of Hardee’s men were beginning to advance upon the outposts of Sherman’s pickets to the west.  The pickets soon fled in horror at the awesome sight before them; an entire enemy corps was advancing upon them.

The soldiers in Sherman’s main camp were too sleepy and hungry to notice birds starting out of the woods.  They barely noticed a noise like tearing canvas which chased rabbits and squirrels across the field.  But when the terrified pickets began streaming into camp shouting, “Get in line!  The Rebels are coming!”  the men began to move.

Johnston led his army forward in high spirits.  He rode his horse alongside the various units as the day became brilliant with a touch of softness in the air.  It was a perfect spring Sunday in Tennessee.  So far, things were going well for the South as forces swept through the woods, over freshly plowed fields, through tangled ravines, and up gently sloping hillsides.  Prentiss’ advance guards were being driven back to the main body of the division, and Sherman’s camps were next.

The first regiment in Sherman’s camp to receive the warning was the 53rd Ohio Infantry, led by Colonel Jesse J. Appler and part of the Third Brigade under Colonel Hildebrand.  An officer was sent out to appraise the situation, and he came back running.  “The Rebs are out there thicker than fleas on a dog’s back!”  Appler deployed his regiment in an open field on high ground and he sent messengers to both Hildebrand and Sherman with the news.  Soon, the messenger returned with Sherman’s curt reply, “You must be badly scared over there.”  It was Appler who had expressed panic the previous day upon seeing a Confederate detachment, and Sherman did not take his new message seriously.  But when Appler sent another frantic message calling for help, Sherman decided to have a look for himself.

Sherman and his staff rode out to the ridge where the 53rd Ohio was deployed, not expecting to see anything of consequence.  But when they got there, they were mortified to see an ocean of gray troops advancing less than 100 yards away.  “My God!”  Sherman exclaimed, “We are attacked!”  Bullets ripped through the air, instantly killing Sherman’s orderly, Captain Thomas D. Holliday of the 2nd Illinois Cavalry.  Bullet fragments also hit Sherman’s hand, cutting it badly.  He shook it off and rode over to tell Appler to hold his position.  “I will support you.”  He then galloped off to ready the rest of the division, leaving Appler horrified.

Sherman later described the scene in his official report to the War Department:  “On Sunday morning, the 6th, early, there was a good deal of picket-firing, and I got breakfast, rode out along my lines, and about 400 yards to the front of Appler’s regiment, received from some bushes in a ravine to the left front a volley which killed my orderly, Holliday.  About the same time I saw the Rebel lines of battle in front coming down on us as far as the eye could reach.”

Sherman was very sensitive to later reports that he was caught completely by surprise, and that is probably why he was careful to write his report in such a way as to downplay its actual significance.  He never mentioned Appler’s warnings, and he placed the Rebel troops at a safer distance of 400 yards as opposed to less than 100.

There were thousands of Confederate troops moving irresistibly towards the grossly outnumbered Federal regiment.  The sun was shining down upon the gun barrels, and the major concentration was on the 53rd’s right flank.  There was not much time to spare.  The advancing Confederate brigade was led by the Irish Brigadier General Patrick R. Cleburne, one of the few foreign-born men to become a general in the Confederacy.  He had a reputation as a hard fighter, and he was not about to disappoint on this day.

Cleburne’s troops plunged into a sharp ravine they did not expect to cross, dispersing the troops in the swampy morass and leaving Cleburne with about 1000 men.  But Cleburne led them on, and when they emerged from the ravine, they were met by fire from the 53rd Ohio and the 1st Illinois Light Artillery brought up by Sherman.  Cleburne later said, “An iron storm threatened certain destruction for every living thing that dared to cross.”  But still they came on.

The 6th Mississippi Infantry comprised most of the brigade’s remnants, and it was this unit that led a second charge up the hill.  William C. Thompson was in this charge, and he remembered not being able to see the faces of the wounded surrounding him.  Then he noticed a cousin who was blinded by a facial wound, a friend who was killed, and another friend who was wounded.  With another cannon flash, Thompson felt incredible pain and he went down.  He was crawling to his screaming cousin when he fainted.  Thompson would survive the charge, but just barely.

The Rebels were met with a second volley, but by this time Appler had lost his nerve.  “This is no place for us!”  he exclaimed.  Then he issued his final order of the day:  “Retreat and save yourselves!”  Of the 425 men who were with the 6th Mississippi when it made its first charge, only 100 remained when it finally captured the hill.  The 1st Illinois Light Artillery limbered up and withdrew to another site.

Many of the men of the 53rd Ohio fled the field in horror at the sight of battle.  But a good many did not, and they withdrew to form another line.  By the time Sherman returned with reinforcements, he saw the novices giving as good as they got.  The uneven ground over which the Confederates advanced looked like “a pavement of dead men” to one of the troops who stayed to fight.

Sherman reported on the furious fighting that was just beginning:  “All my troops were in line of battle, ready, and the ground was favorable to us.  I gave the necessary orders to the battery (Waterhouse’s) attached to Hildebrand’s brigade, and cautioned the men to reserve their fire till the Rebels had crossed the ravine of Owl Creek, and had begun the ascent; also, I sent staff officers to notify Generals McClernand and Prentiss of the coming blow.  Indeed, McClernand had already sent three regiments to the support of my left flank, and they were in position when the onset came.  In a few minutes the Battle of Shiloh began with extreme fury and lasted two days.”

Meanwhile, to Sherman’s left, Prentiss was already aware of the upcoming blow, even though many of his men were not.  Private Leander Stillwell of the 61st Illinois Infantry was a part of the Second Brigade that was forced to bear the Confederate thrust once the First Brigade had been pushed back through the camp.  Private Stillwell remembered it well:  “It really seemed like Sunday in the country at home.  The boys were scattered around camp... polishing and brightening their muskets and brushing up and cleaning their shoes, jackets, and trousers.”  The Second Brigade took up an initial line in some sparsely wooded underbrush, and Stillwell recalled seeing the endless tide of Rebels coming towards them:  “As I rose from the comfortable log from behind which a bunch of us had been firing, I saw men in gray and brown clothes, running through the camp on our right, and I saw something else, too... a gaudy sort of thing with red bars... a Rebel flag.”

Private Sam Watkins was a soldier from the 1st Tennessee Infantry, and his unit was a part of the first wave of Confederates to storm Prentiss’ camps.  He later wrote, “The order was given for the whole army to advance.  The fire opened--a ripping, roaring boom bang!  The air was full of balls and deadly missiles.  The litter corps was carrying off the dead and wounded... ‘Well boys, we are driving ‘em.’”

Shiloh was one of the greatest strategic surprises in military history.  Sherman was technically the ranking officer in camp, and he had obviously been unprepared for battle.  The Third Division under Lewis Wallace was still stationed at Crump’s Landing, four miles away.  And the Union commander, Major General Ulysses S. Grant, was at the Cherry mansion in Savannah, nine miles up the Tennessee River.  On the afternoon of the 5th, Halleck notified Grant that John McClernand and Lewis Wallace had received major generals’ commissions.  This meant that these two officers now ranked everybody in the Army of the Tennessee except C. F. Smith, who was on the sick list, and Grant himself.  Grant liked the job Sherman was doing in supervising the camps, and he did not want either of the other two to bicker over the new seniority they now possessed.  Therefore, Grant had planned to move his headquarters from Savannah to Pittsburg on the 6th.

On the morning of the 6th, Grant rose from bed at dawn.  His ankle was still very swollen, and he was in a good deal of pain.  He hobbled into the headquarters office on the first floor of the Cherry mansion, where his adjutant general, Captain John A. Rawlins, was busy sorting through the correspondences of the day.  Grant spoke briefly with Rawlins and a few other friends from his old days in Galena, Illinois.  He was dressed in his full major general’s uniform, complete with sword and sash, which was unusual since Grant normally detested wearing sidearms and decoration.

At approximately six o’clock, Grant sat in the dining room and prepared for breakfast with his staff.  Grant lifted a coffee cup when a sudden and jarring boom echoed through the room, shaking windows and rattling spoons against saucers.  A sentry named Private Edward N. Trembly rushed into the room to announce that cannons were being fired.  Grant already knew.  He pushed away from the table, leaving his coffee untasted and announced to his staff, “Gentlemen, the ball is in motion.  Let’s be off.”

From Grant’s behavior on this morning, it is conceivable that he anticipated some sort of attack.  He did not seem surprised in his mannerisms, and his first impulse upon hearing the guns was to steam to Crump’s Landing and see if it was Lewis Wallace who was being attacked.  He had intimated earlier that he expected Wallace to face a token force of Confederates because of his somewhat vulnerable position, but there was no way Grant anticipated anything like this.  He quickly boarded the Tigress and headed for Crump’s.

Between seven and seven-thirty, Grant’s steamboat closed in next to Wallace’s headquarters boat.  From the two decks, the men spoke.  Wallace reported that he was not being attacked and the firing was coming from positions further up the river.  Grant then ordered Wallace to hold his division ready to march upon receipt of orders.  Wallace was also to send patrols west to see whether the Confederates were moving towards him as well as towards the troops around Pittsburg Landing.  Wallace agreed, and the conference ended.  Grant then headed for Pittsburg.

That Grant did not order Wallace to mobilize right then points to the fact that Grant did not know the Confederates were launching a massive thrust along all his forward positions.  He still believed that some kind of reconnaissance in force was taking place, and after a diversionary tactic in the front, Grant still thought that Wallace’s isolated Third Division would be the primary target.  Thus, he ordered him to send troops west to locate a force which was not there.

While aboard the Tigress, Grant wrote a hasty note to Buell, telling him to hurry his Army of the Ohio to Savannah.  He also sent a note to General William Nelson, whose division was already at Savannah, telling him to be ready to mobilize upon the receipt of further orders.  Grant did not yet know the extent of the attack at Pittsburg Landing, and he did not want to sound like an alarmist.  That was not his way.

Meanwhile, the Confederates were continuing to rush forward through the woods that concealed their advance, and the Federal forces continued to drop their breakfasts, grab their muskets, and give ground in confusion.  The bullets were ripping through tents, trees, and bodies at an alarming rate.  A bugle was shot from the mouth of a private in Prentiss’ division as he sounded the general alarm in camp.  Colonel Everett Peabody prophesied his own death in a letter written the previous night.  He assured his parents, “If I go under, it shall be in a manner that the old family shall feel proud of.”  As he bled from four wounds, he desperately rode among the men and tried to rally them when he was instantly killed by a bullet through his head.  A hail of lead descended upon the field.

Despite the great Southern surprise, the Union troops did not completely crumble.  They took up a series of defensive lines which slowed the Rebel attacks and absorbed the shock of the charges.  The first defensive line was south of the Hamburg-Purdy road extending from Owl Creek on the right to the Tennessee River on the left.  But there were many gaps in this formation, and the Confederates were quick to exploit them.

While the situation was utter confusion on the Union side, the green Confederates and their commanders were having troubles of their own.  What was at first envisioned as a crushing avalanche on the Union left turning the Federals away from Pittsburg and the Tennessee was becoming a series of raging little fights all along the entire Union line.  This differed greatly from the plan Johnston wired to Jefferson Davis on 3 April, but Johnston was at the front and no longer in control of strategy.  Beauregard had simply envisioned three successive waves of attack all along the Federal line, but this would effectively drive the Federals back to Pittsburg and to the Tennessee River.  Johnston never seemed to press Beauregard to alter this strategy, and the first assault wave was beginning to lose steam a little past seven o’clock.

Sherman’s three brigades around Shiloh Church had formed around a battery commanded by Allen C. Waterhouse, and they were defending their ground very well against Cleburne’s Rebel brigade.  Farther east, Johnston reached the front at sunrise and observed sporadic Rebel units attacking Prentiss’ camps in piecemeal formations.  The brigade commanded by Johnston’s close friend Thomas Hindman was beaten back and becoming disorganized.  Johnston personally rallied the men and sent them forward once more, and the Federal troops stubbornly fell back through their camps.

During the first three hours of battle, Johnston moved across the front from left to right.  He conferred with corps, division, and brigade commanders as he received information from all parts of the field from messengers and staff officers.  Upon hearing of Sherman’s stiff resistance, Johnston ordered Bragg’s Second Corps to move up and attack near seven-fifteen.  It was the second wave of Confederates, and it soon meshed with Hardee’s units.  They all moved through wood and field and roars of weapons unheard of before by untried ears.  Johnston rode forward to reconnoiter enemy positions, and he came to two cabins on the edge of an open field.  From there he watched Cleburne’s brigade get help from Bragg’s units and with loud cheers, the Rebels overtook Sherman’s defensive positions.

As Bragg’s men came on, McClernand mobilized his First Division and moved it forward to plug the hole between Sherman and Prentiss.  McClernand’s division was filled with many veterans, a rarity in this particular battle.  A Fort Donelson veteran was asked by a regimental commander to speak to his green troops in order to motivate them for the fight.  The veteran told them, “Why, it’s just like shooting squirrels, only these squirrels have guns, that’s all.”  But even veterans were folding under the battle’s intensity.  The 11th Illinois of McClernand’s division advanced, and after 10 minutes of fighting, “They fell back, I regret to add, without my order,”  wrote their commander, Colonel Thomas Ransom.

One of Sherman’s men wrote later, “I reckon this is going to be a great battle, such as I have been anxious to see for a long time.  And I think I have seen enough of it.”  Thousands of troops on both sides fled the field in terror.  A disgusted Iowa sergeant remembered a man who fled past him, “’Give them hell boys, I gave them hell as long as I could.’  Whether he really had given them any of the sulphurous... I cannot say, but assuredly he had given them everything else he possessed, including his guns, cartridge box, coat, and hat.”

One Union officer was found hiding with two of his men inside a big hollow log.  Private Watkins of the 1st Tennessee remembered seeing a Confederate private named Smith step out of the ranks to shoot his finger off in order to deliberately keep out of the fight.  Whereas Confederate troops were able to slip away through the woods behind them, the Union troops had nowhere to go except for a single road that led directly to Pittsburg Landing.  Soon the road was jammed with thousands of terrified fugitives, making it very difficult for Federal reinforcements to arrive at the front.  Many deserters fled all the way to the river, and then some even tried to swim across.

Shiloh was the first big battle of the Civil War.  The trees were leafed out and the roads were meandering cowpaths, making maneuverability difficult to the point that nobody knew north, south, east or west.  It was beginning like a disorganized, murderous fistfight.  Nobody knew what to do, and men showed a pure determination to stay and fight.  Beauregard ordered the heavy artillery to the front.  He had donned his lucky red cap and moved his personal effects from the high ground between the Pittsburg and Purdy roads to his new headquarters--Sherman’s deserted tent near Shiloh Church.  From there, Beauregard leaned against the doorway of the meetinghouse and urged the men on who were rushing for the front all around him.  The fight was now taking place along a three-mile line.

The Union brigades around Shiloh had fled after holding their ground for a few hours.  Hildebrand’s Third Brigade was almost completely green, and the 40th Illinois Infantry got it worst.  The 40th made a daring bayonet charge, but it was knocked back with heavy losses, losing half its manpower.  When the unit’s survivors retired, the brigade collapsed, and the rest of the division was now being continuously flanked as a result.  Thus Sherman had to continue to withdraw from position to position.

Private Leander Stillwell’s 61st Illinois was placed along a tributary of Lick Creek.  The commander of the 61st was Colonel Jacob Fry, who gave an eloquent speech to his “gentlemen.”  They realized right then that they were in trouble, for they were not even considered “soldiers” by their own commander.  As the Confederates came on, many men of Prentiss’ division became paralyzed at the thought of shooting people.  Officers screamed at them to shoot, but many complained that they could see nothing but smoke.  The officers implored them to shoot anyway.  The 61st eventually fled the field, and they were later placed with Stephen Hurlbut’s division which was hurrying up to reinforce the shaky Union line.

The 18th Missouri Infantry in the same brigade as the 61st Illinois got it just as bad.  As the men of the 18th scrambled to the rear, a chaplain discovered a boy who was lying on the ground and screaming.  His intestines were spilling out of a horrible wound which had contracted, squeezing the bowel.  The boy cried, “I feel as if my bowels are in boiling water!”  The chaplain used his knife to reopen the wound and push the intestines back in.  He then told the boy to trust in Christ and left him on the field.

Bragg’s Second Corps was on the field in full force by eight o’clock, and the Confederates were approaching the scene with more men than they had ever before thrown into battle anywhere.  For the first time in a major conflict, the Rebel forces actually outnumbered the Union troops.

By eight o’clock, Johnston ordered a bayonet charge on Prentiss’ camps, and it swept the field for 300 yards.  The Rebels charged across the open ground in great numbers, and Prentiss’ troops broke and scattered under the force.  As they did so, Hurlbut was bringing his men forward, and they encountered each other coming and going.  A soldier from Hurlbut’s division remembered, “They were rushing back from the front pell mell, holding up their gory hands shouting, ‘You’ll catch it!  We are all cut to pieces!  The Rebels are coming!’”  The panicked troops clogged the road and infuriated the advancing newcomers.

McClernand’s First Division was now ready for action, and the men moved for the front at the double-quick.  Many troops ran into Hildebrand’s green Ohioans fleeing the scene, but they pressed on.  McClernand’s division was comprised mostly of Illinois farm boys, and many an officer was heard to shout, “Stand up to it boys, I’ll shoot the first man that falters.”  Wounded men were brought back to a log house on the bluffs behind them, and a veteran of the 20th Illinois later commented, “The house was like a butcher shop when the trade was good.”  But still McClernand’s men pressed on.

By eight o’clock, a rough Union line was held from Owl Creek to the Tennessee River.  The line, running west to east (or right to left) consisted of four divisions:  Sherman, McClernand, Prentiss, Hurlbut, and Stuart’s brigade.  The Second Division of W. H. L. Wallace was held in reserve at Pittsburg, but Wallace was busy sending off regiments and brigades to wherever they were needed on the field.

Meanwhile, Grant was hurriedly steaming up the Tennessee River towards Pittsburg Landing.  Southwest of Pittsburg, smoke was drifting up from the woods, and a massive crowd of stragglers, weaponless and winded, was accumulating up on the hillside that went from the river to the bluffs.  They were panicky men that included officers of rank.  They had been shoved unready into their first battle and had fled in wild desperation.

A man fleeing the scene was in effect running down a funnel.  The only road to safety was the road to the steamboat landing, and men who in any other fight would be drifting across square miles of open country were packed in a solid mass here, cowering under the lee of the bluff above the river.  It was pathetic testimony that troops with inadequate training and no battle experience had been called on to stand up to one of the worst combats of the entire war.

Before any relief could come, thousands of Union fugitives were hiding beneath the Pittsburg bluffs.  They were white-faced, frightened men who escaped death and had no heart to risk their lives again.  By the time officers arrived to bring them back to the fight, it was too late to motivate them.  When an officer pleaded for a group to fight, they applauded his eloquence and ducked even lower.  Grant would never forget the scene as his boat approached the landing:  “Most of them would have been shot where they lay, without resistance, before they would have taken muskets and marched to the front.”

When Grant’s boat landed at Pittsburg near nine o’clock, it was quite apparent that a diversionary attack by a reconnaissance in force was not taking place.  Furthermore, even more than an assault on forward positions was under way.  This was a full-scale battle, and the Union was getting the worst of it.  Grant lashed his crutches to his horse’s saddle and rode onto the landing, making his way through the men pouring down the bluffs.  He shouted orders to establish a battery of guns aimed at the army’s escape route to the bluffs; there was no misunderstanding that subordinates were to shoot any man who fled their way.  Grant then rode off into the massive confusion that was the first stage of the Battle of Shiloh.

CHAPTER SIX:  WE ARE SWEEPING THE FIELD

Grant’s first order of business upon arriving at Pittsburg Landing was to get ammunition to his soldiers on the front line.  He immediately put his staff to work organizing a train so that there might be a steady supply of cartridges in motion.  Unfortunately for the North, the Federal weapons had not yet been standardized, which made the job of providing the proper ammunition very difficult.  But the work was begun nonetheless.

Grant then sent a staff officer downstream on the Tigress with orders for Lewis Wallace to bring up his division as fast as possible.  He then seized two Iowa regiments awaiting orders and told them that as soon as they had been given ammunition they were to form across the roads and halt all fugitives.  The regiments were also instructed to stand ready and wait for further orders.  Grant’s manner in this time of dire crisis was apparently ineffective, for he was very cool under the pressure.  So cool, in fact, that Colonel James T. Reid of the 15th Iowa did not respond when he was ordered to put his regiment on guard.  He had to be told, “I am General Grant.”

After sending staff members out on various tasks, Grant set out for the front.  The men with the commanding general later commented that he looked anxious, but he gave no evidence of excitement or trepidation.  A staff officer remembered that Grant seemed unconcerned, as if he was merely conducting a review.  The crutches lashed to his saddle spoiled a strictly military look, but the unlit cigar in his teeth gave him a determination which men admired.  As he rode briskly for the front, Grant did not talk at all.  When he did arrive, he saw that the Union forces were on the verge of collapse.

What was happening was not one battle, but numerous intensely bewildering little battles, each one overlapping with another and yet strangely isolated.  The only true pattern came from the relentless application of overwhelming force on a loose battle line which had come into being not because of any central direction but solely due to immense pressure.

It cannot be stressed enough how important a role inexperience played in this immense conflict.  Of the five Federal divisional commanders, only one (Sherman) had been a professional soldier before the Civil War.  The divisions which had been hit first and hardest (Sherman’s and Prentiss’) had been fighting the longest, and they consisted of few regiments that had ever seen combat before.  Reinforcements had gone forward without direction; they went simply because officers at the front were calling desperately for help.  Fugitives were coming to the rear almost as fast as the new troops were going forward.

The first divisional commander that Grant approached was Brigadier General W. H. L. Wallace, whose Second Division was in reserve near the landing.  From Wallace, Grant got a sketchy picture of what was taking place.  So far, the only thing the Union could look upon with optimism was the fact that the Confederates were fighting with a defective tactical arrangement.  By attacking in three successive waves, the troops would be hopelessly scrambled once the fighting became more intimate.  But at nine o’clock, it was definitely a powerhouse; nearly 30,000 men were in a broad mass attacking a little more than a third of that number.

Grant sent another messenger to Crump’s Landing to hurry Lew Wallace’s arrival, and then he wrote another note to Major General Don Carlos Buell.  This second note indicated that Grant was a bit more desperate after he learned just how dire the situation was.  “The attack on my forces has been very spirited from early this morning.  The appearance of fresh troops on the field now would have a powerful effect both by inspiring our men and disheartening the enemy.  If you can get upon the field, leaving all your baggage on the east bank of the river, it will be a move to our advantage and possibly save the day for us.  The Rebel force is estimated at over 100,000 men.”  This final statement showed just how big an impression the battle was making upon Grant, for very rarely through the course of the war did he ever overestimate the enemy’s numbers, and never before or after did Grant over exceed their number by that much.

As Prentiss’ line dissolved, the Confederates soon became sidetracked by their own success.  That they were the attackers concealed the fact that they were in disarray also, and as they reached the deserted Union camps, their instincts got the better of them.  Many of the Rebel troops had not eaten for 24 hours, and many others had eaten nothing but cornmeal for days.  As a result, they could not resist stopping and eating breakfasts that were abandoned and still cooking over campfires.

While the Confederates stopped to eat, the next logical step was to go through the Union tents and collect valuables.  The soldiers looted tents, went through knapsacks, and left thousands of dollars in Federal greenbacks blowing away--the Confederates thought them useless.  Johnston made it a point to admonish the troops he found looting the camps.  He ordered most of them to the front, and he even came across a Confederate officer who was pilfering.  “None of that, sir!  We are not here for plunder,” he rebuked.  Seeing that he had hurt the man’s feelings, Johnston calmed down and grabbed a tin cup off the ground.  “Let this be my share of the spoils today,” he said and returned to the front.

While all this was happening, the scattered Union troops were given valuable time in which to regroup.  Prentiss’ men reformed their line behind a stone-rail fence, along a sunken road, and within thick underbrush.  Colonel John S. Marmaduke led his 3rd Confederate States Infantry against this new line, and the unit was forced to fall back under heavy fire.  This was the first instance in which the Union forces managed to stop a Rebel surge, and it helped to further stabilize the new line.  The Fifth Division was also able to reform; Sherman ordered his men to avail themselves of any kind of cover they could find.  In these new defensive positions, the Federals were now ready to meet the next onslaught from Hardee and Bragg’s corps.

At the rear of the Confederate line, General Beauregard used cavalry detachments to stop stragglers and plunderers from escaping the fight.  Staff officers organized these fugitives into battalions and sent them forward again.  A little after nine o’clock, messengers informed Beauregard that the attack was slowing, and the waves were losing steam.  Beauregard then ordered Polk’s corps, in columns of brigades, to move up and attack.  This was the third wave of the Confederate army.

But Polk’s corps was massed behind Bragg’s left flank, and thus they advanced and smashed into the Union right.  What was needed was a Confederate force to move up and attack the Federal left, anchored on the Tennessee River.  Had this occurred, the Union troops may well have been forced northwest and pinned against Owl Creek, and the Confederate army would have executed its original objective.  Johnston saw the problem as soon as Polk’s men came up, and he quickly ordered Polk to send a brigade in support of Bragg’s right.  When it did not arrive after a few minutes, Johnston went over there and led A. P. Stewart’s brigade to where he wanted it.

But Beauregard then ordered Polk to send a brigade to the left, and William Stephens’ unit advanced there and fought for about half an hour.  Then they were finally moved to Bragg’s extreme right.  Inexplicably, the other two brigades of Polk’s corps were placed in support of the center.  There was no effective direction anywhere as units became meshed beyond comprehension.  Beauregard knew the least of all Southern commanders, and thus he simply followed his favorite military axiom, perfected by Napoleon:  Men were sent where the firing seemed to be the heaviest.  If in doubt, the troops were to move wherever they were called for help.

Johnston seemed to recognize the fact that the battle was superceding his original objectives.  He also seemed to realize that Beauregard was directing the troop movement from a position that gave him a much different perspective than if he was on the front lines like Johnston was.  When one of Beauregard’s aides rode up to Johnston for information, Johnston told him, “Tell Beauregard that we are sweeping the field before us, and I think we shall press them to the river.”  Johnston apparently conceded that the Union army was not going to be pried away from the Tennessee in this statement, but he certainly did not act like it.  Every opportunity he got, he directed attacks against the left flank, where Hurlbut and Stuart’s brigade were bravely holding their ground.

Beauregard, with few instructions, was to act as he saw fit.  But when he received Johnston’s message, he quickly had troops moved out of the firing line and placed where the firing was heavier.  In many instances, the army’s adjutant general Thomas Jordan took men away from the right wing and placed them elsewhere, thus defeating Johnston’s purpose.  All the while, Beauregard preferred to stand on a stump and wave his lucky red cap to the men as they passed him.  As Polk’s corps was committed, the battle regained its intensity.

Sherman’s division was fighting hard but giving ground slowly.  Sherman had his hand wrapped in a handkerchief, and although he had two horses shot out from under him, he seemed to grow calmer as the day progressed.  He sat boldly upright in a fire that made his aides flinch, inspiring his men.  This was not the same man who was thought to be a lunatic just four months before; on the contrary, Sherman seemed most at ease when staring into the eye of the storm of war.  Grant’s aide-de-camp, Captain William R. Rowley, visited him near nine-thirty, and Sherman said calmly, “Tell Grant if he has any men to spare I can use them, if not, I will do the best I can.  We are holding them pretty well now, but it’s hot as hell.”  Within the next few minutes, Sherman gave the order to fall back to a new position.  He had just bought the Federal army a bit more time.

When Grant got to Sherman near ten o’clock, the Union army was performing well considering that it was in the process of being routed.  Troops would collect sporadically, stand and fire, and then run backwards until commanders could gather them and line them up again.  Dozens of separate fights were going on and there was no direction to anything.  It was a perfect maelstrom.  Artillery horses pulled loose from their reins and trampled tents, which caught fire on still-cooking breakfasts.  Mules tangled together in trees and bushes.  The eerie Rebel yell wreaked havoc on Federal nerves, which were already shot by the din of the muskets and cannon.  In a desperate attempt to calm the soldiers under fire, a riverboat captain on the Tennessee was blasting “John Brown’s Body” and “Hail, Columbia” through the day.

Far up in the air shells burst into flames like shattered stars, and then passed away like little clouds of white vapor, while others filled the air with a shrill scream and burst far in the rear.  All along the line the faint smoke of the musketry rose lightly, and from the mouths of the cannon, sudden gusts of intense white smoke burst up all around.  Bullets shredded the air and whistled swiftly by and struck trees, fences, wagons, or “chucked” into men.  The forest was packed with dead.

It seemed apparent to Grant that Sherman had lain to rest all rumors of insanity, for he was as able a field commander as circumstances would allow.  He only visited him briefly because, as Grant said later, “I never deemed it important to stay long with Sherman.”  Although Grant had full faith in him, Sherman’s physical appearance was certainly cause for alarm at first glance.  His horse was shot, he had a minor wound in his left hand, he was covered with dust, and his tie had worked around to the side so that it stuck out under his ear.  But he was at ease in the heat of battle, and he told Grant that things were not so bad except he needed ammunition.  His division used six different calibers, and it was running out of all six.  Grant told him that arrangements were being made, and then he rode off to see Prentiss.  The intimacy between Grant and Sherman that would last a lifetime was born on 6 April.

By ten o’clock, every available force on both sides was engaged, except for two reserve brigades from Breckinridge’s corps.  The battle was broken into scores of miniature fights, each with its own front but each with the same objective--to either destroy or save the Union army.  Trees were being splintered and snapped by gunfire.  Yells, cries, screams, and shouts mingled with the neighing horses and the bursts of weapons all created a horrible din.

Johnston was at a captured Federal camp near ten o’clock when he received a written message and a sketch showing the location of the Union forces holding up the Confederate right.  The message was from Captain Samuel Lockett from the army corps of engineers.  As shells fell around them, Johnston and his escort rode into a ravine for cover.  He studied the message and listened to the sound of battle.  Johnston then decided that the right wing must receive more support.

The escort was sent off with the order to bring up Breckinridge’s two reserve brigades.  Their objective was to attack at ten-twenty and turn the Federal left flank once and for all.  As Johnston rode to the scene, a column of Federal prisoners were led past him.  Many of these prisoners were Germans who could barely speak English.  Some of them dropped at Johnston’s feet as he dismounted his horse and begged for their lives.  Johnston reassured them, “Why men, you don’t suppose we kill prisoners, do you?  Go to the rear and you will be safe there.”  He conferred briefly with Hardee on the left wing, and then he rode on.

Major General Braxton Bragg was the second ranking Confederate officer on the field, and for the past few hours, he had been directing attacks upon the Union center.  He stubbornly regrouped beaten back units and sent them in again wherever he could find them.  Near ten o’clock, his horse fell dead upon him, bruising his leg.  He grabbed a new horse from a staff officer and rushed to halt a regiment from fleeing the field.

Owl Creek flowed northeast and emptied into Snake Creek.  Confederate forces designed to pin Sherman against Owl and Snake Creeks as they wheeled east and attacked McClernand’s flank.  From this position, they could also fall upon Prentiss from the rear.  A little after ten o’clock, Bragg directed a furious attack on McClernand’s front, concentrating on the Federal right flank.

Sherman reported on the attack:  “Finding him pressed, I moved McDowell’s (First) brigade directly against the left flank of the enemy, forced him back some distance, and then directed the men to avail themselves of every cover--trees, fallen timber, and a wooded valley to our right.  We held this position for four long hours, sometimes gaining and at others losing ground; General McClernand and myself acting in perfect concert, and struggling to maintain this line.”

Later, McClernand’s division made a daring counterattack against the Rebels, and Sherman recounted that also:  “He drove them back into the ravines to our front and right.  I had a clear field, about 200 yards wide, in my immediate front, and contented myself with keeping the enemy’s infantry at that distance during the rest of the day.”  But Sherman was not candid, for within the next hour, he was forced to withdraw along with McClernand’s division as Hardee pressed the attack once more.

Confusion was the order of the day, which would excuse Sherman’s exaggerations in his official report, written several days later when the shock of the battle had worn off.  But right now, the shock of the battle was quite evident.  The 18th Illinois of McClernand’s division was in desperate need of officers to guide it.  Captain William Dillon had just arrived by steamboat from Pittsburg after recovering from wounds suffered at Fort Donelson.  He was barely able to ready his company when he was killed.  Three color bearers fell in rapid succession, and the 18th finally fell back.  But they still fought bravely, and the regimental surgeon even joined the fray, exclaiming that he would not be happy until he fired at least “45 rounds, by God!”

The 45th Illinois of McClernand’s division was forced to flee after it ran out of ammunition.  The 71st Ohio lost its colonel after it was hit hard by an Alabama regiment and it fled in a wild, disorganized stampede.  The colonel of the 6th Iowa was drunk during the battle, and he was found by his brigade commander ordering impossible maneuvers and put under arrest.  The colonel later sobered up and fought into the ranks as a private.

Even Beauregard’s original unit before the war, the Orleans Guards, was a victim of disorganization.  The men of the Guards wore bright blue uniforms into battle, and at one point, thinking they were Federal troops, their fellow Confederates fired upon them.  They immediately returned the fire, and when ordered to stop shooting at their friends, the colonel of the Guards exclaimed, “Damn it sir, we fire upon everybody who fires on us!”  Later, when they wore their jackets inside out to show the white lining, their own colonel would mistake them for someone else’s brigade.

One of the unluckiest units of the battle was Stuart’s Second Brigade, which was isolated on the Tennessee River.  Stuart had his men take up position in a nearby peach orchard, where pink petals were clipped by bullets and sent downward in a rain of blossoms which were, as one captain remarked, “Spring’s offering to the heroic dead.”  Stuart had three regiments with him, but after the first Confederate onslaught, the 71st Ohio fled in terror.

An enraged Stuart then threatened to shoot any other man who tried to flee.  His brigade survived onslaught after onslaught until Hurlbut’s division and a brigade from W. H. L. Wallace was sent to help him.  Stuart had lost nearly half his manpower by the end of the day.

The 1st Louisiana lost nearly all of its officers corps.  The 9th Texas was virtually annihilated when it was ordered by Bragg to charge an artillery battery.  The 17th Louisiana was decimated after a desperate bayonet charge, and the 4th Louisiana was the victim of friendly fire; they were accidentally fired upon from behind by Tennessee troops.

Near eleven o’clock, Polk and Bragg held a brief conference behind the line.  It was agreed that Hardee was gaining too rapidly on the left, and the Federal lines were being knocked back to Pittsburg Landing instead of to Owl Creek.  The two generals had been combining their services on the center of the Union line, and now it was time to re-divide the leadership.  Polk asked Bragg, “Where would you have my command?”

Bragg replied, “If you will take care of the center, I will go to the right.”  The two men agreed and notified Hardee and Beauregard by couriers.  Hardee was already taking care of the left, and as Bragg would soon learn, Johnston and Breckinridge were busy with the right.

Meanwhile, Grant arrived at Prentiss’ line to see that his men were fighting valiantly after being nearly annihilated a few hours earlier.  The cover that was available was vast, for there were many trees, ravines, logs, fences, and sunken bits of road that the men could stand behind and fire.  Johnston had ordered Breckinridge to attack the left flank of these positions at ten-twenty, but now it was near eleven and Breckinridge still had not arrived on the field.  So the main force opposing Prentiss’ men was Polk’s charging against the right flank.  Prentiss was well protected where he was, and his men were able to fight off many charges.

Grant was well aware of the importance of this ground that Prentiss was holding, for if Prentiss fell, then the Confederates would have a clear path to Pittsburg Landing.  There they could divide the Union forces and attack each one until they were both obliged to surrender.  Grant saw that Prentiss’ position was formidable, and then calmly instructed him, “Hold this ground at all hazards.”  Prentiss, who stringently believed in following every order to the letter, would obey with fanatical determination.  Off to the right rear of Prentiss’ line was in important bridge where a road passed through the rear of the Union position, crossed Owl Creek, and went north to Crump’s Landing.  Grant posted two regiments of infantry to hold this bridge, and he sent an officer with a company of cavalry to ride to Crump’s Landing and personally guide Lewis Wallace to the field.  Then he wrote another note to Buell.

With this done, the Union line was firmly established in a defensive position.  From Owl Creek on the right to the Tennessee on the left, the line consisted of Sherman, McClernand, two brigades from Wallace, Prentiss, Hurlbut, a brigade from Wallace, and Stuart’s brigade.  However, the Federals were not secure by any means now.  The Confederates were readying for yet another massive offensive, and it would be launched at the Union left this time.

Most of Grant’s army was strung out along a loose, uneven front and fighting desperately to hold that line.  Iowa soldiers in Hurlbut’s division saw Grant riding towards the front, attended by two or three staff officers.  He was wearing his sword and buffed sash, and he leisurely moved forward smoking a cigar, as cool as if he was making a routine inspection.  The sight reassured the men, who now felt that the worst was over.

Grant was rigid as stone.  Some unnerved subordinates thought he was lethargic and unequal to the occasion, but controlled calm was all he knew.  He sat upon his horse or stood alongside the animal and muttered quiet commands around a cigar.  He did not seem to notice a bullet ricocheting off his sword scabbard.  He nodded slightly when a courier reported another disaster, and when that courier stepped back into a canister shot which tore off his head, Grant silently wiped the blood and brains from his new satin sash and gave another order.  But few of his orders could be obeyed that day beneath the horrible din of battle.  Grant’s aide-de-camp, Captain William R. Rowley, was particularly worried about the situation, and he told Grant that things were “pretty squally.”  But Grant told him, “Well, not so bad.  Lew Wallace must be here soon.”

Grant’s adjutant, Captain John Rawlins, rode with a lieutenant colonel from the landing to find Grant on the field.  The young officer was worried that they would not find him, but Rawlins was confident:  “We’ll find him where the firing is heaviest.”  As they rode through the dense forest, they heard a pattering of the leaves overhead, and the younger man asked if it was raining.  Rawlins corrected him, “Those are bullets, Douglas.”  An Iowa soldier later wrote that he could actually see swarms of bullets in flight, visible like buzzing insects.

Sure enough, Rawlins and the lieutenant colonel found Grant in the thick of things.  His staff was urging him not to expose himself so much, but Grant replied that he had to see what was going on.  In the timber opposite the group of officers, a Mississippi battery was just unlimbered and its guns were quickly trained on what appeared to be an important group of Federal officers.  At the discharge of these guns, Grant later noted, “The shells and balls whistled about our ears very fast.”

Grant and his staff were in an open space studying the situation.  A Captain Hillyer from Galena later confessed that he and most of the others were in an agony of apprehension, but Grant almost seemed to enjoy it.  A staff officer whispered to Hillyer, who was a close friend of Grant’s, “Go tell the old man to leave here, for God’s sake!”

Hillyer replied, “Tell him yourself.  He’ll think me afraid, and so I am, but he shan’t think so.”  Finally, someone approached Grant and said, “General, we must leave this place.  It isn’t necessary to stay here.  If we do we shall all be dead in five minutes.”  Grant thought a moment and muttered, “I guess that’s so,” and then silently led the cavalcade away.

Now and then there would be a brief lull in the battle, but it never lasted long or spread throughout the front. Afternoon came, and the fight went on unabated.  Beaten men kept drifting to the rear, and they were crying that their regiments had been destroyed or that this was the Bull Run story all over again.  The colonel of the 41st Illinois led a retreat and announced to an advancing unit as he passed.  “Fill your canteens.  Some of you will be in hell before night and you’ll need water.”

On the other side, three Confederate lines were spread across the entire field and inextricably entwined on the rough and broken terrain.  Beauregard’s crushing “Alpine avalanche” had deteriorated into little fights.  As Polk and Bragg were re-dividing their respective commands, Johnston was busy readying Breckinridge’s brigades to attack the Federal left.  Hurlbut’s division guarded the peach orchard which was the new target, and to the right of that was the forest within which lay Prentiss’ men.

Johnston moved to his right through another captured Union camp, and he was soon surrounded by unattended wounded men.  He sent for some medical officers, and his personal surgeon, Dr. D. W. Yandell, arrived.  Johnston said to him, “Look after these wounded people, the Yankees among the rest.  They were our enemies a moment ago.  They are prisoners now.”  Dr. Yandell objected mildly, but Johnston ordered him to stay and promised to call him if he should leave.  Johnston promptly rode off, forgetting his promise.

The fight raged on, and for many troops, this baptism by fire was to leave a lasting impression upon the survivors.  A Confederate remembered, “How the cannon bellowed, and their shells plunged and bounded, and flew with screeching hisses over us!”  By the end of the war, the most any soldier on either side could say of a battle was, “I was worse scared than I was at Shiloh.”

Even the soldiers who were wounded and sent to the rear were not safe.  A makeshift hospital was opened in a ravine behind Sherman’s line, and the men waiting to be treated by the doctors were being hit by stray bullets and shells.  One of the wounded troops exclaimed, “This is a hell of a place for a hospital!”  Another wounded men was ordered to the rear, but he shouted back, “Captain, give me a gun!  This damned fight ain’t got any rear!”

By around noon, approximately one quarter of the Army of the Tennessee was cowering beneath the bluffs along the Tennessee River at Pittsburg Landing.  On the other side, entire Confederate regiments straggled, looted, and became disorganized.  One veteran succinctly remarked, “Since Shiloh, I have been in many pitched battles including Perryville, Murfreesboro, Chickamauga, and Franklin, but none ever made the same impression on me.”  After the war, both Grant and Sherman remembered Shiloh’s first day as being equal in ferocity to any other engagement they had seen.  Shiloh was already Civil War combat at its worst, and the afternoon of 6 April had just begun.

CHAPTER SEVEN:  THE HORNET’S NEST

By the time 12 o’clock came, the Federal army had formed a continuous line from Owl Creek to the Tennessee River.  It was not very strong, but it provided stiff enough resistance to the Confederate attack that had been raging since dawn.  The sounds of battle would reach a fevered pitch and then die down, like the ebb and flow of an ocean tide.  It appeared to the Southern high command that their offensive was losing steam, so it was now time to direct charges into the newly formidable spots on the Union line.  To the Federal right, Sherman’s division was falling back slowly, but it refused to be broken away from McClernand’s division to the left, which was also stubbornly giving ground.  The most stubborn point of the Federal line was the section held by Hurlbut, W. H. L. Wallace, and the remainder of Prentiss’ decimated division in the center and to the left.

The remnants of Prentiss’ command numbered about 1000, and they were realigned on an old sunken road one mile behind their original position.  The men were on high ground that was fringed with concealing brush and a sturdy split-rail fence.  The position commanded an open field over which Confederate attackers would have to move fully exposed if they were to seize the area.  The thin Union line consisted mostly of Illinois and Iowa farm boys.

Hurlbut had placed two brigades to the left of Prentiss’ line along the sunken road.  W. H. L. Wallace had also contributed two brigades to Prentiss’ right, and then he placed one brigade to the left of Hurlbut.  Hurlbut’s third brigade was placed to the left of Wallace, commanding a peach orchard and supporting the precarious position of Stuart’s once-isolated brigade.  The Union army was prepared to make a mighty defensive stand by noon.

Soon however, Stuart’s brigade would be forced to retire.  The bulk of the fighting on the extreme Federal left had fallen on the 55th Illinois Infantry, which was hopelessly outnumbered by the oncoming Confederates.  Breckinridge’s corps was now coming up to attack, and although Stuart did all he could to hold his ground, there were no more reinforcements available to support him.  His men finally broke and fell back, and as they fled up a narrow ravine the advancing Confederates overtook them, lining both sides of the trough and shooting as fast as they could.

A survivor from the 55th Illinois recalled that it was like “shooting into a flock of sheep.”  Even a Mississippi officer confessed that he “never saw such cruel work during the war.”  The survivors eventually staggered to the bluffs of Pittsburg Landing.  The 55th’s Lieutenant Lucien Crooker was wounded three times, and he was being dragged away by Sergeant Parker Bagley when a bullet burned across Crooker’s back and went into Bagley’s side, killing him.  The 55th lost more than half of its 512 men, and Stuart led the withdrawal himself even though he was wounded as well.  At the landing, the regimental chaplain, Milton Haney, took a long swallow of brandy and prepared for a last stand.

While the extreme Union left was being rolled back to the landing, the extreme right was being pushed as well, forming the Federal line into a horseshoe shape.  Savage Confederate attacks on McClernand’s right flank continued to threaten the isolation of Sherman’s division on the far right.  McClernand was forced to withdraw from position to position; he was not only fighting but he was clearing a path for Lewis Wallace’s anticipated arrival on the field as well.  As McClernand withdrew, Sherman had no choice but to follow him, thus bending back the Union line.  But as the left and right were moving back, the Confederate attack on the center was completely halted.  Understandably, the Confederate commanders were extremely concerned with this situation, and they concentrated their full efforts on this new objective.

While the Federals were falling back all over the field, the center of their line was getting stronger.  The Confederates brought the heavy artillery against it, and both sides traded ineffective fire.  Then, the Rebels were able to get within range, and a devastating fire was opened.  Metal fragments cut down many Union troops who were once standing erect behind the split-rail fence.

Private John T. Bell of the 2nd Iowa Infantry remembered the scene as he dove for cover behind the fence:  “I am lying so close to Captain Bob Littler that I could touch him by putting out my hand when a shell burst directly in our front and a jagged piece of iron tears his arm so nearly off that it hangs by a slender bit of flesh and muscle.”  Bell recalled that Littler jumped up, screamed, “Here, boys!  Here!”  and then he fell insensible.  Bell later noted that the noise was so terrible that “a rabbit trembling with fear rushes out of the brush and snuggles up close to a soldier.”

The artillery drew the immediate attention of Colonel Thomas Jordan, who saw that the center was the new focus of attention.  Following P. G. T. Beauregard’s favored axiom of sending troops where the fighting was heaviest, he ordered a brigade from Benjamin Cheatham’s division to attack at once.  Waiting for them was the 14th Iowa Infantry, led by Colonel William T. Shaw who ordered his men to lie down so they could see under the split-rail fence.

When the Confederates were within 150 yards, Union cannon opened up on them, and soon the long lines were rippling like grass in the wind as the shot came.  At 30 paces, the 14th Iowa as well as the 12th Iowa Infantry rose and fired.  Shaw reported, “We opened directly in their faces and the enemy’s first line was completely destroyed.  Our fire was returned only by a few, nearly all who were not killed or wounded by it fleeing in every direction.”

The closest Cheatham’s men came to the Union position was on their extreme right, where Brigadier General Jacob G. Lauman’s brigade under Hurlbut stopped them within 10 yards.  This attack drew the attention of Major General Braxton Bragg, who saw the bodies laying in piles in the open field and soldiers fleeing from the scene.  One man staggered past him and exclaimed, “It’s a hornet’s nest in there!”  The sobriquet would etch its place in history.

Bragg was determined to take the Hornet’s Nest at all costs, but he was quite uncertain how to do it.  So he ordered the fresh brigade of Colonel Randall Lee Gibson to make a bayonet charge across the open field.  Gibson’s men were mostly untried soldiers, and from their rearward position, they had not seen the results of previous charges.  Thus, the infantry units of the 4th, 13th, and 19th Louisiana and the 1st Arkansas started forward unwittingly towards the split-rail fence.  They were instantly met by cannon fire from the 5th Ohio Light Artillery, and when they got closer, they were cut down by 800 rifles from the 8th Iowa Infantry.

Colonel James F. Fagan of the 1st Arkansas rode ahead of his men, and he later commented that he was certain his unit was receiving fire from both the Union and his fellow Confederates.  But still he rode forward, into what he called “a perfect rain of bullets, shot and shell.”  The Union artillery was so intense that many of the Arkansas troops were struck by falling trees.  Under this iron avalanche, the entire brigade fell back; the 19th Louisiana alone lost nearly a sixth of its men in that single charge.

Canister, case shot, and Minie balls cut swaths in Gibson’s men.  As they fell back, Bragg instructed Charles Clark to lead one of his regiments in a charge on a Union battery, and Clark grabbed the available 11th Louisiana Infantry.  They had to cover 300 yards uphill to get to the battery, and they never got there.  At the crest of the ridge, they were met by artillery fire and fell back in confusion.  A few more charges proved futile, and when it was all over, the 11th Louisiana had lost 490 of its 550 men.

Bragg was enraged, and he sent Gibson’s brigade into the fray once again.  After four tries, Gibson was unable to take the position.  Bragg later blamed the failure on Gibson’s poor handling of his troops, but Gibson would dispute that allegation.  In Bragg’s official report, he stated that he personally led a charge that failed mainly because the soldiers had already been demoralized by Gibson.

However, Gibson and other nearby officers challenged Bragg’s claim, for none of them saw Bragg lead any charges.  Colonel Henry Allen, commanding the 4th Louisiana Infantry in Gibson’s brigade, later claimed that he saw Bragg and his staff retire to a ravine when the Union artillery opened on the field.  Gibson would eventually blame the failure on Bragg’s lack of artillery support, and in hindsight, his claims appear more valid.

On the Federal side, Captain Andrew Hickenlooper commanded a battery of the 5th Ohio Light Artillery, and his men fired their guns until they sizzled.  But still the Confederates came on, and they briefly captured the guns in front of the 8th Iowa Infantry.  W. B. Bell of the 8th recalled:  “The enemy had captured the guns and taken them at least four or five rods when our men rushed forward and recaptured the guns and triumphantly sent them to the rear.”  This action cost the 8th Iowa over 100 casualties, and Prentiss exhorted the 8th’s commander, Colonel James L. Geddes, to “fight to the last.”  Geddes later complimented the courage of the Confederates by saying, “They concentrated and hurled column after column on my position, charging most gallantly to the very muzzles of the guns.”  An artillery shell caught fire in the open field, and many of the wounded Confederates were now burning to death.  Captain Hickenlooper found it “a most hideous and revolting sight.”

While Hickenlooper’s 5th Ohio Battery was managing to fire canister and case shot every 30 seconds, Bragg ordered his chief engineer, Captain Samuel Lockett, to seize the colors of a regiment and lead a charge with the remnants of Gibson’s men.  Lockett grabbed the colors of the 4th Louisiana, but he was stopped by Colonel Allen.  “What are you doing with my colors, sir?”  Lockett explained Bragg’s order as Allen lay near him.  Allen had been shot through the face and was bleeding profusely, but he managed to reply, “If any man but my color-bearer carries these colors, I am that man.  Tell General Bragg I will see that these colors are in the right place.  But he must attack this position in flank; we can never carry it alone from the front.”

Gibson agreed with Allen.  He sent his aide-de-camp, Robert Pugh, to ask Bragg for artillery support, but Pugh was returned with orders from Bragg to charge again.  Gibson later said, “It would have been madness to have kept my command there longer.”  Colonel B. L. Hodge, commanding the 19th Louisiana, sent Bragg a similar message that was ignored.  Hodge remarked, “I thought it impossible to force the enemy from this strong position by a charge from the front.”  After all the bloody charges were repulsed, Gibson had lost a third of his men, 682 total, and Bragg would call him “an arrant coward” for his effort.

The Hornet’s Nest was vital to the Federal line.  If the center was held, then the forces on either flank could withdraw to the safety of the landing instead of to Owl Creek.  Polk’s men were positioned to the left of the Hornet’s Nest, and Bragg’s men were on the right.  Had they surrounded the position and attacked from opposite sides, they could have sparked a rout of the entire Union army.  But instead, they decided to attack it head-on time after time in piecemeal formations.  Through the day more than 17,000 Confederate soldiers were sent into the Union center, but never were more than 3700 committed at any given time.  The Federal position was commanded by between 4000 and 5000 troops, meaning that the attackers were actually outnumbered by the defenders.  In this new era of advanced weaponry, the Confederates needed to commit at least three times as many soldiers if they were to even the odds and offset the deadly accuracy of the rifled muskets.

Three of Polk’s brigades aided Hardee in driving back Sherman and McClernand, and the rest of Polk’s corps was sent piecemeal into the Hornet’s Nest.  These troops were driven back at least three times.  Both Generals Charles Clark and Bushrod Johnson were wounded, and several other officers were killed.  With the attack stalled on the left, it was Albert Sidney Johnston’s turn to attack the Hornet’s Nest on the extreme Confederate right.

Meanwhile, Grant was circulating all about the field and personally placing troops in line of battle.  Today was the day that Grant lost forever the belief that the ordinary soldiers of the Confederacy were halfheartedly serving a cause that never fired their innermost loyalties.  The only fact of the time was that the Southern soldiers were fighting with a sustained fury, and the Federal troops were getting the worst of it everywhere, except in the Hornet’s Nest.

Union reinforcements were having much trouble reaching the field.  Lewis Wallace did not know the battle was as big as it was, so he took his time in mobilizing his division.  By the time he was ready to move, the road he was to take over Owl Creek was in Confederate hands.  So he was forced to make a laborious countermarch and find a new place in which to cross the creek.  He would be delayed for several more hours.

General William Nelson’s division at Savannah had mobilized in the morning, but he too was finding trouble in reaching adequate roads that led to the battlefield.  Most of the roads along the Tennessee were impassable due to heavy rains, and there were many swamps which prevented the transportation of artillery.  Finally, a frustrated Nelson ordered the artillery to stay behind, and his division set out for the fight near twelve-thirty.  Soon after, Buell steamed up to Pittsburg Landing to appraise the situation.

When Major General Don Carlos Buell arrived at the landing, he was shocked to see so many fugitives cowering under the bluffs.  He estimated Grant’s effectives at no more than 5000:  “The rest were either killed, wounded, captured, or scattered in inextricable and hopeless confusion for miles along the bank of the river.”  Near one o’clock, Buell met with Grant aboard the Tigress at the landing.

Not much was said at this conference, for the situation spoke for itself.  Grant believed that he still was going to win, but if necessary, he told Buell that a bridge could be constructed by boats for the army to escape across the river; the bridge could be protected by artillery.  Grant thought that the spectacle of so many fugitives on the landing made the situation seem worse than it actually was, but he assured Buell that it was not.  Buell later commented that Grant seemed dull:  “There was none of that masterly confidence which has since been assumed with reference to this occasion.”

Grant came ashore and rode back to the field.  Buell steamed back to Savannah, where he was to mobilize the rest of his army which was rapidly getting there.  Transports were to steam the Army of the Ohio nine miles up river to Pittsburg Landing, where they were to reinforce the battered Union forces already there.  Buell would blame Grant’s inadequacies as a commander for this turn of events.  He estimated the number of stragglers under the bluffs at 15,000, and he remarked that at the top of the bluff was utter confusion.

On the battlefield, General Johnston was busy bringing up the last Confederate reserves to attack the Union left.  This was Breckinridge’s corps, and it was to move to the right of what was now known as the Hornet’s Nest and attack Union troops positioned in a 10-acre peach orchard.  Defending that position under the blossoming pink trees was a part of Hurlbut’s division, as well as W. H. L. Wallace’s Second Brigade.  Johnston knew that if he was to tear the Federal army away from the Tennessee River, then he could delay no longer.  The Union left had to be turned, and the Hornet’s Nest had to be crushed.

Beginning near noon, Johnston was placing units in position, giving direction to their advance, and inspiring his men with his eloquent presence.  Johnston ordered Jones Withers’ division to shift to the far right and strike the Union flank.  When there was mild confusion about the order, Johnston personally placed the brigades in position and ordered an advance.  Shortly after noon, Johnston placed Breckinridge’s forces to the right of Withers’ flank and announced to one brigade commander, “A few more charges, and the day is ours.”

But the Hornet’s Nest was too formidable for just a few more charges.  In modern warfare, such a strong position would have been bypassed or contained, but the tactics learned at West Point dictated that the position must be taken.  Johnston had redoubled his efforts to smash its front and flank, and he sat atop his horse behind the line to watch the results.  They were not too promising.  Near two o’clock, Breckinridge reported to Johnston that he could no longer prevail upon one of his Tennessee regiments to advance.  “Oh yes,” Johnston replied, “I think you can.”

Johnston’s volunteer aide-de-camp was none other than the Governor of Tennessee, Isham Harris.  Johnston sent him over to address his constituents and provide for them an eagerness to fight.  Breckinridge returned to Johnston and said they still would not advance.  Johnston answered, “Then I will help you.  We can get them to make the charge.”

Riding along the line, Johnston spoke to the men.  It was an overwhelming sight for an ordinary soldier:  Looking upon the horrors of battle in the background, in the foreground he saw the Governor of Tennessee, the former Vice President of the United States, and the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Mississippi.  Governor Harris remembered that Johnston’s “voice was persuasive, encouraging and compelling.  It was inviting men to death, but they obeyed it.”  Johnston was still holding the tin cup that represented his “spoils for today,” and as he rode along the line, he swung it around by the handle and tapped bayonets with it.  “These will do the work,” Johnston loudly announced.  “Men, they are stubborn, we must use the bayonet.”

Then, returning to the center of the line, Johnston suddenly wheeled his horse, Fire-Eater, around and cried, “I will lead you!”  Harris later said, “The line was already thrilling and trembling and rushed, forward around him with a mighty shout...”  Finally, the troops were moved to attack.  Under heavy fire for a time, Johnston led the men into the peach orchard, and the Federals were driven back.  When he returned, Governor Harris was waiting for him behind the lines.  Several bullets had nicked Johnston’s uniform, and his boot sole was cut in half.  Fire-Eater was slightly wounded in two places.  Johnston smiled at Harris as he rode back.  “Governor, they came very near putting me hors-de-combat in that charge.  They didn’t trip me up that time.”

Suddenly, a Federal battery opened fire from the woods on the left.  Johnston sent Harris with orders for Colonel Winfield S. Statham to wheel his brigade to the left and silence the guns.  When Harris returned, he saw Johnston suddenly reel in the saddle.Harris quickly grabbed Johnston’s coat to steady him and asked, “Governor, are you wounded?”  Johnston struggled to reply, “Yes, and I fear seriously.”  Apparently during the charge, a Minie ball had struck Johnston’s leg behind the knee and slightly cut an artery.  Harris failed to notice the wound, as did Johnston’s aides when they arrived to help him off his horse.  It is possible that Johnston did not know himself.  He had been wounded in that leg years ago, and it could have been numbed to the pain of the new wound.

Harris and Johnston were on a small ridge, exposed to enemy fire.  A Captain Wickham soon arrived to help guide Johnston and the horses to a wooded ravine in the rear.  There he and Harris lay Johnston on the ground.  More staff members soon arrived, and they immediately searched for a body wound.  Harris gave him a swallow of brandy and then noticed that Johnston’s boot was full of blood.  But it was too late.

Colonel William Preston knelt down beside him as he began going in and out of consciousness.  Preston called out to him, “Johnston, don’t you know me?  Do you know me?”  There was no answer.  Preston then called for whiskey, and Captain Dudley M. Haydon poured a bit into his mouth.  But he did not swallow; instead the liquor ran down his chin.  Haydon then felt Johnston’s chest and told Preston that the heart had ceased to beat.  Preston exclaimed, “My God, my God!  Haydon, is it so?”

Albert Sidney Johnston, commander of the Army of the Mississippi and the second ranking officer in the Confederacy, was dead by two-thirty.  He died from loss of blood, probably within 15 minutes of being shot.  It was later discovered that a tourniquet was in his pocket, and it would have saved his life had anyone thought to use it.  Nevertheless, Johnston’s death stunned his staff.  Preston was his son-in-law, Haydon was a personal friend of his for many years, and others looked upon him with near reverence.  As the news circulated around the battlefield, the Confederate morale was dealt a serious blow.

The aides did their best to conceal his death in order to prevent such demoralization.  Curious onlookers were told that the covered corpse was a Colonel Jackson of Texas.  Private Sam Watkins of the 1st Tennessee Infantry remembered the scene as his unit passed by:  “Advancing a little further, we saw General Albert Sidney Johnston surrounded by his staff and Governor Harris of Tennessee.  We saw some little commotion among them, but we did not know at the time that he was dead.  The fact was kept from the troops.”

Upon hearing the news a few days later, President Jefferson Davis was among the most shocked of all.  He announced to the Richmond press:  “Without doing injustice to the living, it may safely be asserted that our loss is irreparable, and that among the shining hosts of the great and good who now cluster around the banner of our country, there exists no purer spirit, no more heroic soul, than that of the illustrious man whose death I join you in lamenting.”

It was indeed a crippling blow to the Confederacy.  One of Johnston’s staff officers who looked upon him with near idolatry later said, “Johnston’s death was a tremendous catastrophe.  The west perished with Albert Sidney Johnston and the Southern country followed.”

The shot that killed Johnston most likely came from the 28th Illinois Infantry of Hurlbut’s division.  Near two o’clock, Hurlbut had sent his First Brigade to the edge of the peach orchard.  It was commanded by Colonel Isaac Pugh, the successor to Colonel Nelson Williams, who was wounded early in the fight.  The furious Confederate assault sparked by Johnston’s inspirational leadership slowly drove the brigade out of the peach orchard, but the 28th fired a blind volley before becoming the final regiment to withdraw.  One of the stray Minie balls probably hit Johnston as he headed back from the charge.

Meanwhile, W. H. L. Wallace was sending his men all over the field piecemeal in order to plug holes that opened due to swelling Union casualties.  The 7th and 58th Illinois Infantry regiments were sent off to help McClernand, while the Second Brigade was sent off to help Stuart.  By the time of Johnston’s death, Stuart’s brigade was fighting its way out of the ravine while the 9th Mississippi was raining bullets down upon them.  Most of Wallace’s men were taken by Grant to help Prentiss keep his vital foothold on the center of the line.  To Prentiss’ right, Wallace’s First and Third Brigades took up positions and Wallace himself joined them.

The Third Brigade was commanded by a unique man named Thomas Sweeny.  Sweeny was a one-armed Mexican War veteran from Ireland who was hard-tempered and ornery, and his raw determination exemplified the heroic Federal stand in the Hornet’s Nest.  Sweeny saw a detachment of troops in the distance, and he rode up to them to see if they were friend or foe.  They were the enemy, but the Confederates were too surprised to see a Federal officer in their midst to open fire.  Later, Sweeny was wounded in the foot, but he refused to leave his command.

Grant was busy placing other troops in line that afternoon as well.  His mere presence encouraged badly beaten troops, for he refused to act as if things were going badly.  Grant was confident that he was going to stop the Confederates before they got to the landing.  As long as Prentiss and Wallace held their ground, the rest of the Federal army would be given time to recover and to reform its line on the bluffs of Pittsburg Landing.  Grant personally placed infantry regiments of the 81st Ohio, 15th Illinois, 11th and 15th Iowa, and Birge’s Missouri Sharpshooters on the firing line.  He even had time to reminisce with a Major Belknap, whose father served with Grant in the Mexican War.

While some Federal units struggled to survive, many others had virtually ceased to exist.  For instance, Colonel Jesse Hildebrand’s Third Brigade of Sherman’s division was almost entirely destroyed.  Seeing that he no longer had a brigade to command, Hildebrand ended the day serving as a staff officer to General McClernand.  But conditions in the Confederate army were just as dire.  Effective control of the attack had been exercised by a group of staff officers led by Colonel Thomas Jordan, and the corps commanders had been thrown out of effective touch with most of their troops.  While those at the front realized that the Union left must be pressed, Beauregard and a handful of staff members were forming battalions from stragglers to strike the Federal right at the time of Johnston’s death.

Beauregard stayed at his headquarters near Shiloh Church through most of the day.  Up until mid-afternoon, he consistently sent soldiers to bolster the Confederate left, completely undermining the efforts of Bragg, Polk, Breckinridge and Johnston to take the Hornet’s Nest.  When Isham Harris arrived at Shiloh Church near three o’clock, Beauregard was in the process of sending a few units to the center for the first time.

Harris led a group bearing Johnston’s body to Shiloh, and Beauregard was shocked to learn his superior was dead.  He readily assumed command of the army, a position he had already virtually held.  But still he was so far to the rear that he had only a vague idea of what was happening at the front.  Beauregard ordered that Johnston’s body be kept shrouded for secrecy to keep from demoralizing the troops.  Then he turned his full attention to the hardest fighting, the Hornet’s Nest.  On either side of the position, the Union forces were crumbling towards the Tennessee River and could have been driven through Pittsburg Landing and destroyed at leisure.  But Beauregard became obsessed with the center.

By three o’clock, there were approximately 6000 Union soldiers in the Hornet’s Nest who were ordered to hold the position to the death.  The Confederate line had been stalled against the position for more than three hours now; the Union resistance was enormous, and the Rebels lacked an overall commander with a coherent strategy.  The Southern troops were being wasted piecemeal without artillery support.  Beauregard set out to rectify this, and by mid-afternoon, more than 200 Confederate heavy artillery pieces were trained on the field.  To counter this, Union gunboats with siege mortar joined the fray, lobbing shells over the bluffs and turning the blind chaos into hysteria.  No one on either side, from the commanding generals to the drummer boys, had ever experienced anything like Shiloh.

Beauregard stood on a stump near Shiloh Church and rallied men going past him into battle.  He urged them to keep cool and shoot low, for they had them whipped.  At around this time, Bragg rode to the far Confederate right and found the units of Withers, Cheatham, and Breckinridge “without a common head.”  Bragg took command and moved the whole force forward.

Beauregard ordered Brigadier General Daniel Ruggles to accumulate artillery in an attempt to train as much cannon on the Hornet’s Nest as possible.  Meanwhile, Bragg’s charges were repulsed with bloody results.  Withers’ division was hit the hardest:  He lost two brigade commanders, one brigade suffered over 67 percent casualties, and the other lost five different color bearers.  Bragg readied the fleeing Confederates for another piecemeal advance.

In the Hornet’s Nest, the situation was not much better.  The boldest soldiers took places behind stout trees on the firing line.  Soon others would follow him, until there were 30 or 40 men in a tail behind a tree.  Then each one would fire, scorching and deafening the men in front of them.  One soldier saw a man hit by a bullet that did not even break the skin, and he remembered a story told by a veteran that a spent bullet could cause more immediate pain than a serious wound.  The man hit was writhing in pain on the ground.

An Iowa private, told that his brother was dead, was led to the body.  The private stayed with him and kept firing until his regiment was forced to withdraw from their position.  To the left of Prentiss where one of Hurlbut’s brigades was positioned, a six-gun Ohio battery galloped up to the front bravely, but when a Confederate shell blew up a caisson, every man broke for the rear within seconds.

All told, the Union army was slowly driven back as each hour passed except for the Hornet’s Nest.  Grant continued to send messages demanding that Prentiss hold his ground, all the while he was organizing artillery on the Pittsburg bluffs to defend what was foreseen as the final Federal line at the landing.  Grant confided to a colonel, “I think they have done all they are going to do.  We have fresh troops coming, and tomorrow we’ll finish them.”

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