Pontoon Bridge
Left Wing orders written tonight addressed the slow movement of the wagons and the wasting of ammunition. “Brigade commanders should give their personal attention to the movement of the trains in their charge,” admonished Brigadier General Alpheus S. Williams of the Twentieth Corps. A Fourteenth Corps directive made it clear that the “use of cartridges in killing of sheep, hogs, cattle, &c., foraged in the country is positively forbidden.” Those with the authority to order buildings burned were cautioned to be mindful of the surrounding foliage and to take steps to ensure that the fires did not spread into nearby woods, where the flames could easily spread out of control.
CHAPTER 9
“Arise for the Defense of Your Native Soil!”
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1864
Midnight–Noon
Right Wing
Major General Oliver Otis Howard was not by nature a high-strung individual. Nor was he an especially cerebral officer; however, he now faced a situation that demanded the probing thoughtfulness of a chess master. Part of his mission was to execute a believable threat against Macon, and toward that end his line of advance was taking him closer and closer to the Rebel citadel. This proximity posed a danger that Confederate authorities could not ignore, but at the same time it put Howard’s Right Wing in significant peril. For the next few days his strung-out columns would be vulnerable to hit-and-run attacks launched from the armed city, and the limited road network had brought his two corps together at a water crossing without any existing bridge. It would take time for his military engineers to build one, and until they did, the bulk of his command would be stalled on the Ocmulgee River’s west bank.
The first order of today’s business was to protect the ferry area. A thin line of pickets from the 29th Missouri had staked Howard’s claim throughout the night; now he had to up the ante to solidify his control. The call went out to the division nearest Planter’s Factory, which proved to be the Third of the Fifteenth Corps. The Federals had already secured the river craft that plied their trade here, but even with these in hand it was slow going. A member of the 93rd Illinois, the second regiment to make the passage, described his transportation as “an old fe[r]ry boat” and calculated “only 50 could get on at a time.” A comrade in the 63rd Illinois put the volume at “about 30 men” in each circuit made by the “small Ferry boat.” “As the enemy was known to be near,” added an infantryman in the 4th Minnesota, once across “a detail threw up some light breastworks.”
Friday, November 18, 1864
Through an oversight, the pontoon detail had not been staged forward at the end of yesterday’s march, so valuable time was lost while the engineers and their wagons squeezed through the congestion to the riverbank. It was not until nearly 11:00 A.M. that the first pontoniers arrived, a section of thirty wagons pulled by as many mule teams, enough material to construct one floating bridge. The order was for two, but the other pontoon section was nowhere in sight. Those on hand from the 1st Missouri Engineers set to work, their efforts spurred on by the lowering clouds threatening a storm.
With the various columns halted for an indeterminate period, foragers had time to prowl. “We lived on the fat of the land today,” recorded an Ohio diarist. “The Reg’t had more Fresh Pork[,] Sweet Potatoes &c than they could possibly use.” The sentiment was echoed by a brigade commander in the Seventeenth Corps who recorded an “abundance of sweet potatoes and fresh meat, and some meal, flour, sugar and salt besides forage for animals, and some horses and mules. We live well.”
The delay also allowed the word of the Yankee presence to spread among the surrounding plantations and farms. “About a hundred Negroes came in,” observed an Ohioan, “each bringing a good horse or mule.” A squad from the 10th Iowa was helping itself to well water in front of a house, watched over by a black servant who gradually came to realize what was happening. According to a soldier present, “he took a frantic spill & screamed out in a most frightful strain (as he pointed off to the East): ‘Our folks! Our folks! Gone! Gone! Gone!!!’” As the 63rd Illinois marched past a slave sporting a black silk hat and standing alongside three women, a soldier in the ranks called out a friendly invitation for him to come along. The black man nodded, shook hands with the women, said, “I’re off,” and eased into the blue ranks. The women, recalled a Illinoisan, “all put their big aprons to their face and began to cry. It was a sad parting scene, and to us a reminder of the tender chord that was touched when we said ‘good bye.’”
Planter’s Factory was a major object of interest for the soldiers in the area. The cloth manufacturing facility had been located where the river level dropped precipitously to provide an ample supply of water power. “There was a grist mill and a saw mill besides the factory which was four stories high, new, and in fine running order,” recollected an Illinois soldier. A cannoneer noted the complex as consisting of “2 splendid buildings which the Rebels had used night & day for the manufacture of cloth for the army.” An Indiana man eyed “lots of women & girls” in the workforce, estimated to number 150. A staff officer with General Howard, who counted seventy-five looms, spoke with the owner, who claimed he had only purchased the place a month ago. In other circumstances the view at the plant could be described as picturesque. Wrote a member of the 20th Illinois: “The most majestic scenery was seen at the mills[,] Steep high banks, rocky bottoms and deep cascades.” Artistically attractive it may have been, but there was also no doubt that Planter’s Factory was a legitimate target slated for destruction.
Brigadier General H. Judson Kilpatrick had his cavalrymen in the saddle soon after sunrise to execute his feint against Forsyth. Throughout the morning his troopers tramped slowly along the back roads heading south, flushing out several Rebel vidette posts as they went, almost always letting the enemy scouts escape to Forsyth with word that the Yankees were coming. By the time his advance had pushed within five or six miles of the rail station and supply depot, Kilpatrick was “convinced that the impression had been made upon the enemy that our forces were moving directly on that point.” His column now swung east, then angled northward to New Market, where the troopers rested.
The feint proved everything Major General Howard had hoped for when he ordered it. Confederate field commanders remained convinced that Forsyth had been a prospective target, and only their determination to hold it prevented Sherman’s riders from adding it to the list of violated towns. Besides the militia manning Forsyth’s defensive positions, zealous partisans burned all the “bridges on the road from Forsyth to Indian Springs.” Both generals Wheeler and Gustavus W. Smith took credit for the victory. “On the 18th, after a series of severe, but successful, engagements with Kilpatrick’s Cavalry, we turned him off from his march upon Forsyth, saving that place also,” read one report of Wheeler’s actions. For his part, Smith crowed that his civilian-soldiers “reached Forsythe…just in time to repel the advance of Sherman’s cavalry and save the large depot of supplies at that place.”
Left Wing
The Twentieth Corps marched Second Division first today; so, “long before chicks began to squeal for life,” Brigadier General John W. Geary had his soldiers moving. Behind them came the Third Division, which stopped in Social Circle long enough for the men to grab an early lunch. “Some of the 85th boys are cooking dinner,” said an Indiana soldier; “others are engaged in tearing up the railroad track; some feeding their horses and mules from a corn crib near by, while others made a raid on a barrel of sorghum, went after pigs, chickens, etc.” Soldiers entered the house of the George Garrett family, where they helped themselves to the larder besides giving two little girls a good fright. Before they left, one of the Yankees took the stopper from a barrel of syrup stored in the cellar, letting it gurgle onto the dirt floor. “I thought this a dirty, mean trick,” recollected one of the youngsters.
“Citizens don’t like the ‘Yanks,’” observed an Illinois man. “One Rebel woman wishes South Carolina would sink for bringing on this war. T
hinks we ought not to trouble Georgia because it was last to secede. We can’t see it.” A New Yorker thought Social Circle was a tidy-looking place with a fair number of “good looking girls.” The ladies kept their distance, however, prompting another New York infantryman to claim that the place was misnamed, with “no evidence of the residents being either social or cordial with us.” The receptive mood wasn’t improved when the railroad depot and a nearby cotton warehouse were set ablaze. However, most of the town’s striking residences were spared the torch.
Outside Conyers, where the encampment of the Third Division, Fourteenth Corps, was bustling (the men marched second today, preceded by the Second and followed by the First), Major James A. Connolly hustled to complete some unfinished business. When he arrived here yesterday, Connolly (on Brigadier General Absalom Baird’s staff) had learned from slaves of a nearby plantation owner named Mr. Zachry, whose son, in the Confederate service, had sent his father a captured U.S. flag. Under Connolly’s orders the plantation house was searched and its owner questioned, but no flag was found. Today Connolly was determined to settle the matter.
He threatened the elder, telling him that the Yankee boys knew about the hidden standard, and unless he produced it his house would be burned once the army marched away. When Zachry begged for a guard, Connolly refused, repeating his prediction that the minute the officers departed, vengeance-seeking soldiers would torch his place. Connolly could be very convincing. “In less than ten minutes the old rascal brought the flag out and delivered it up,” the officer said with grim satisfaction, adding, “I don’t know whether his house was burned or not.”
For his part, Sherman was matching wills with the weather. Hitchcock described the morning as “cloudy and threatening rain,” while Sherman believed it to be “the perfection of campaigning, such weather and such roads as this.” On their way to the Yellow River, the headquarters party paused at the Reverend Gray’s house, then occupied by the good minister’s wife, her daughter, and grandchildren. While Hitchcock chatted, soldiers ran free around the property, helping themselves to all kinds of forage. “Evidently bitter rebel, but civil enough, and talked quietly,” recorded Hitchcock. “Never saw Yankee soldiers before ‘except prisoners passing.’ Like a woman, that!”
Sherman and company, reaching the pontoons built overnight by the 58th Indiana, traversed the Yellow River without incident. The water at this point was about one hundred feet wide, and it ran deep, though Major Hitchcock thought it “fordable.” As they were passing over, cattle were being herded across the river in two groups, one wading near the ruined railroad bridge, the other forced to swim downstream from the pontoons. “Cattle are the most trying things for pontoon bridges,” Hitchcock commented, “apt to crowd and rush.”
As the headquarters party drew close to Covington, word came that a deputation of local notables was waiting to greet Sherman. The General, recalled another aide, “not anxious to witness such an instance of submission, prudently avoided them by taking a back street through the town.” Hardly had they turned onto the detour when a young man in Confederate uniform intercepted them. The enemy soldier, wounded in Virginia and recuperating in Covington, had been told by the provost guards to surrender to Sherman. The General promptly turned the invalid over to Colonel Charles Ewing of his staff, who wrote out a parole for the young man after learning that “there is a mighty pretty girl where he stays.” Winks and nods were shared as the grateful Rebel headed back into town.
A couple of young and adventurous signal corps officers with Sherman’s party, learning of his flanking maneuver against the reception party, decided that a prepared meal shouldn’t be missed. Appointing each other the General’s representatives, they presented themselves to the welcoming committee and were royally wined and dined. “This was all intended for Genl. Sherman,” mused an aide, “but as he had declined to partake they did the best they could.”
Noon–Midnight
General Beauregard’s efforts to energize Confederate defenses against Sherman were set back today thanks to the worn-out transportation network. His preferred choice to take command, Lieutenant General Richard Taylor, was stuck on the road from Mobile to Macon, and exactly when he would arrive was anyone’s guess. With Taylor checked, Beauregard went to the next name on his list by recommending to Richmond that Lieutenant General Hardee, then in Savannah, be given temporary authority over Macon.
Beauregard was himself stalled in transit, having only just reached Corinth, Mississippi. Since he could not be present in person at this critical time, Beauregard tried to project his presence through a ringing proclamation.
TO THE PEOPLE OF GEORGIA:
Arise for the defense of your native soil! Rally round your patriotic Governor and gallant soldiers! Obstruct and destroy all roads in Sherman’s front, flank, and rear, and his army will soon starve in your midst! Be confident and resolute! Trust in an overruling Providence, and success will crown your efforts. I hasten to join you in defense of your homes and firesides.
Beauregard’s wasn’t the only exhortation in circulation today. From Richmond, Georgia senator B. H. Hill telegraphed his constituents:
TO THE PEOPLE OF GEORGIA:
You have now the best opportunity ever yet presented to destroy the enemy. Put everything at the disposal of our generals; remove all provisions from the path of the invader, and put all obstructions in his path. Every citizen with his gun, and every negro with his spade and axe, can do the work of a soldier. You can destroy the enemy by retarding his march. Georgians, be firm! Act promptly, and fear not!
Words were fine, but Georgia’s leaders were seeking more substantial support. Today Jefferson Davis did his best to buck up his old friend Howell Cobb while, at the same time, promising nothing from outside the region.
In addition to troops of all kinds you should endeavor to get out every man who can render any service, even for a short period, and employ negroes in obstructing roads by every practicable means. Colonel [Gabriel] Rains, at Augusta, can furnish you with shells prepared to explode by pressure, and these will be effective to check an advance. General Hardee has, I hope, brought some re-enforcements, and General Taylor will probably join you with some further aid.* You have a difficult task, but will realize the necessity for the greatest exertion.
The public rhetoric in Macon reflected a different picture. Readers of the Macon Daily Telegraph were advised “that the military authorities will do every thing in their power to stop the advance of the enemy, and we trust they will receive the cordial support of the entire community.” Major General Cobb, his headquarters now in town, received reconnaissance reports indicating that the enemy was crossing the Ocmulgee in strength at Planter’s Factory. Cobb’s chief scout complained that it was proving difficult to locate any civilians with useful information “as all have taken [to] the forest.”
Lacking any central command, Macon’s various defenders were each deciding how best to deploy themselves. The militia commander, Major General Smith, then at Forsyth, determined that the best place for his citizen-soldiers was “in the fortifications at Macon, leaving the outside work to the cavalry.” Major General Wheeler was also getting advice in lieu of reinforcements. “Employ your cavalry to best advantage, retarding advance of Sherman’s army and destroying supplies in his front,” counseled General Beauregard. From General Hood came the admonition that Wheeler “should not allow any portion of your mounted force to be shut up in a besieged city, but keep them constantly harassing the enemy, destroying his trains, and cutting off his foraging parties.” Wheeler’s situation report for November 18 was blunt: “Enemy pressing on rapidly.”
In Milledgeville, the General Assembly set records approving a slew of measures prompted by the growing crisis. An act was passed authorizing the Georgia Supreme Court to convene wherever circumstances allowed; another limited the liability for owners of cotton warehouses burned by the enemy. Governor Brown received his authority to raise a levy en masse, and special tax relief w
as extended to citizens who had property commandeered by local officials or “rendered valueless by reason of the public enemy.”
Their work done, the legislature adjourned so that the elected officials could scatter to the winds. “Some members,” reported an observer, “unable to get seats on railway trains [using the spur line], hired private conveyance to the Central [rail]road at Gordon and other points. I heard of two members who paid $500 each for a carriage to the Central Railway. The panic was complete.”
At the Governor’s Mansion, Joseph Brown was eating an unapologetic serving of crow. In previous discussions with Confederate officials, Brown had given broad assurances that in an emergency the manpower he had protected from impressment would rally to the state’s defense. Sherman, however, had moved too fast; and the Georgia authorities had reacted too slow. Today Brown composed a message to Jefferson Davis that admitted the fact: “A heavy force of the enemy is advancing on Macon, laying waste the country and burning the towns. We have not sufficient force. I hope you will send us troops as re-enforcements till the exigency is passed.”
This evening, a prominent citizen named William G. McAdoo called on Governor Brown. “Everything in the Executive Mansion was in the wildest uproar,” he recollected. “The halls and rooms were filled with convicts arrayed in Penitentiary Stripes removing furniture and every thing valuable from the Mansion* and Mrs. Brown, pale and hurried, was every where at the same instant. The Governor’s iron face was unmoved…. The energetic evacuation of Milledgeville was now grown frantic.”
Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea Page 15
