The event, thoughtfully organized for all the seeming chaos, made good copy for the reporters on hand, several of whom enthusiastically described it in great detail. The session came to an abrupt halt when the cry went up: “The Yankees are coming.” “In a moment all was confusion, and amid shouts, yells and laughter, the multitude rushed for the door,” chuckled a Bay State man. In his Memoirs Sherman related that he was “not present at these frolics, but heard of them at the time, and enjoyed the joke.”
His amusement was not shared by one Milledgeville resident, the sister of Judge Iverson Harris, who managed to make her way into the crowded building to view the proceedings. “How my blood boiled when I entered the State House to see the destruction of property,” she exclaimed, “& to see how grandly those wretches sat in state there!”
With the exception of one division still herding the wagons jammed west of Gordon, the Fifteenth Corps spent this day converging on Irwinton. Between the militia forces known to be in Macon, and Wheeler’s always pesky cavalry, care was taken at each rest stop to build defensive works. Then, while some of the commands pried up and burned the Central of Georgia Railroad, others ignored the potential danger from roving Rebel bands to go on the prowl. “We got plenty of pork and potatoes,” recorded an Iowa soldier.
Brigadier General William B. Hazen, commanding the Fifteenth Corps’ Second Division, used the day to issue a flurry of orders meant to address some of the many flaws he had observed in the conduct of the march. Hazen was especially upset at the laxness shown by the divisional supply trains. To cut down on the huge increase in the number of animals being used, he directed that the wagons move more closely with the infantry, which (he hoped) would reduce the herd of pack mules. These surplus animals he instructed be sent to a central divisional corral for distribution where most needed. In addition, Hazen wanted all men not carrying arms to be issued tools and organized into a “brigade pioneer corps” to help with the difficult passage ahead.
The general reserved special scorn for the teamsters who had taken advantage of the situation to lavishly equip themselves with goods and assistants. Singling one out as an example, Hazen asked: “Of what service is this wagon-master, that he should presume to have a wagon [for his own use] and keep two servants and a private horse?” The general also felt compelled to spell out in precise detail the duties expected of the aides-de-camp attached to various headquarters. Instead of foraging, he wanted them to spend their time closely monitoring and reporting on troop movements as well as carrying out spot inspections to make certain that proper procedures were being followed by all subcommands. Hazen well understood that the coming weeks would be far more difficult and challenging than the recent past. “Too much attention cannot be given to this subject,” he announced.
Farther east, the combat was increasing along the approach to the Oconee River railroad bridge. Sweating despite the chill air, gunners from the 1st Minnesota Light Artillery manhandled one of their cannon onto the Central of Georgia railroad track, then began pushing it forward by hand. The Rebel artillery piece mounted on the railroad platform car proved to be ineffective, allowing the Minnesotans to cover about half a mile—within range of the small redoubt barring the way to the Oconee River Bridge. In another few minutes, the Union cannoneers had pumped four shells into the position, causing its occupants to clear out. “We sent a few bullets after them, and considering discretion a cardinal virtue, I withdrew the troops and recrossed the river,” declared acting major John Weller, the post’s commander, “and this is what we called the battle of Oconee bridge.”
A detachment from the 32nd Ohio followed behind the retreating Rebels. “We kept down the railroad till we got about half way to the river and seeing a blockade on the other side with a big gun peeping over, we filed off into the swamp and crept slyly down till we nearly reached the river, laid down, loaded our guns and rested a while,” wrote one of the Federals. The Union soldiers set fire to the nearby trestlework, but otherwise remained under cover. As their division commander, Brigadier General Smith, reported, “the enemy could not be dislodged from the opposite side on account of the inaccessibility of the swamp.”
Georgia governor Joseph Brown may have at times acted like a man obsessed, but he was no fool. When Major General Sherman entered Milledgeville about 10:00 A.M., he claimed the Executive Mansion for his headquarters, only to discover that the crafty politico had removed most of the “carpets, curtains, and furniture.” Determined not to be outmaneuvered by a mere politician, Sherman had his field equipage carted indoors for his short sojourn in the capital city.
The General did a little sightseeing and a lot of decision making. One of these decisions proved how flexible he could be when applying his rules of war to cotton, which was burned indiscriminately during the march. In Milledgeville, however, Sherman spared much of what was there, allowing himself to be swayed by the most transparent stratagems. Major Hitchcock was instructed to draw up orders of protection, even though the General knew full well that the promises he received in return not to use the cotton to aid the Confederacy were worthless. He also decreed that the Georgia State House was not a legitimate object for destruction, much to Major Hitchcock’s relief. “It would have been wrong and a blunder,” he declared.
There were weightier matters demanding Sherman’s attention. He had heard from Major General Howard, who had opted not to report in person, but instead sent a brief narrative of the Right Wing’s progress through November 23. The news was basically good, as was that from Major General Slocum of the Left Wing. Nothing in the Confederate response so far required any modification in Sherman’s original arrangements—he was still free to chart a course with no reference to outside influences.
The biggest question facing him was whether or not to mount a serious effort against Augusta. That the Confederates would actively defend the city he had no doubt. That he had sufficient military muscle to take it by storm he also had no doubt. What he didn’t have was time. He would be landlocked before Augusta, and once he was held in a static siege, his logistical problems would rapidly intensify. So far his men had moved across a fertile and generally well drained region, plentifully supplied with farms and plantations. That would change once they entered the coastal lowlands, where swamps predominated and the number of well-stocked farmsteads diminished in dramatic fashion.
“Augusta [was not] of sufficient value to delay the great object an hour,” Sherman later explained, “indeed, remaining in the hands of the enemy, it compelled him to guard it.” He still intended to convince the Rebel authorities that he had serious designs in that direction, obliging them to scatter their strength to defend not only it, “but Millen, Savannah and Charleston.” Characteristically, once he decided, Sherman quickly issued his Special Field Orders No. 127, specifying the routes to be followed in the next phase of the operation. As he later summarized them: “These were, substantially, for the right wing to follow the Savannah Railroad, by roads on its south; [and,] the left wing was to move to Sandersville, by Davisboro’ and Louisville.”
This directive also addressed some of the shortcomings Sherman had observed during the operation’s initial phase. Too much of the railroad destruction had been haphazard. “Great attention,” he declared, had to be given to thoroughly wrecking these lines, for “it is of vital importance to our cause.” Not caring if he repeated himself, Sherman spelled out what needed to be done to accomplish this, and to allow more time for the soldiers to properly do the job, he reduced the daily marching distances from fifteen miles to ten.
His orders highlighted the increased danger to the supply trains in the days ahead by urging that any Confederate action against the wagons be met with prompt, harsh retaliation, declaring that “we should…punish him severely for the first attempt, as it will deter him from repeating it.” Sherman additionally turned his critical gaze on the need to better control the foraging process (“more attention must be paid to this subject”), control excess wagons and un
necessary animals (“All…should now be destroyed”), and improve security for engineer and pioneer details whose road repairs would become increasingly important as the columns encountered the coastal swamps, and he took off the gloves for officers responding to any effort—military or civilian—to delay the march. His men were authorized to “deal harshly” with such individuals “to show them that it is to their interest not to impede our movements.”
Sherman spent time with Brigadier General Kilpatrick, who was not the bearer of good news. Kilpatrick claimed that several of his men had been murdered by the Confederates after they had surrendered, so the hot-tempered officer sought permission to respond in kind. Sherman wasn’t ready to go that far. He would monitor the situation, he said, and if circumstances warranted, retaliation would be sanctioned.
Sherman next gave Kilpatrick his instructions: “I want you to move right on, straight for Augusta. Strike the railroad at Waynesboro, between Millen and Augusta. Move well in toward the city, and at the same time send a force and, if possible, rescue our prisoners at Millen, but don’t risk your command; don’t give or receive battle unless under the most favorable circumstances. The Fourteenth Corps will follow in your track, while Howard will destroy the railroad from the Oconee [River] south to Millen. There is another railroad still further south; I wish we could reach that, and then all communication with Richmond and the west would be forever severed.”
Kilpatrick left to bring his troopers through the Georgia capital and off on their new mission. Sherman’s marching orders for the infantry made it clear that he had no intention of lingering long in Milledgeville—just about everyone would begin moving tomorrow, November 24.
Confederate major general Henry C. Wayne was gratified by the stubborn defense his mixed force of cadets, veterans, and convicts were mounting at the Oconee River Bridge, but his troubles were far from over. Even as the enemy was making a first move against the west-bank stockade, word arrived that another party of Federals had successfully forced a crossing to the south at Ball’s Ferry. Wayne immediately organized a reaction force of cavalry, artillery, and infantry under the command of Major Alfred Hartridge, which he dispatched to the trouble spot.
It wasn’t until well after dark that Wayne learned how well Hartridge had done. Reaching the threatened point at about 3:00 P.M., the major took up a defensive position blocking the only road out of Ball’s Ferry, then set about gathering intelligence. When more than an hour passed without any aggressive movement by the enemy,* Hartridge decided to attack. “I advanced on the ferry,” he later related, “and, after a fight of about one hour and a half, I forced the enemy to recross the river.” One of Wayne’s staff officers, who debriefed participants, wrote that the Yankees “became panic stricken and left the opposite side in a hurry, and our men crossed and picked up twenty-three cavalry guns, several overcoats and a number of knapsacks and other rigging and captured one man.”
Wayne’s losses thus far had been seven wounded and three killed at the railroad bridge, with another two dead and seven wounded at Ball’s Ferry.* Round one had gone to the Confederates, but Wayne knew there would be a round two. Now that the enemy leaders realized he was holding the line of the Oconee, they would come at him with everything they had. His situation report sent off to Savannah at 9:00 P.M. noted that even though the Yankees had been repulsed at Ball’s Ferry, they retained possession of the flatboats used to cross there. He concluded his brief update: “Send me 5,000 [caliber] .54 cartridges.”
This day ended with a bang for both the Right and Left wings. On the right, foragers prowling through Toomsboro “found about a half bushel of powder hid away, which the boys put a fuse to & fired it making the whole town shake,” reported a bemused artilleryman. In Milledgeville, the government’s evacuation had ignored the munitions stored in the state’s arsenal and its magazine—both brick buildings located near the capital. The magazine was emptied of its contents, which were then unceremoniously dumped into the Oconee River, while the arsenal was set ablaze. “I heard a loud explosion,” said a Wisconsin soldier, “and on going to the window, I saw the arsenal on fire, and soon it was wrapped in flames.” Several churches, located around the same square as the arsenal, were damaged by the explosion.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1864
In Richmond, Virginia, news that Sherman had captured Milledgeville was changing from unsubstantiated rumor to likely probability. It was considered highly credible intelligence in the War Department, while a well-placed editorialist deemed it a “correct” opinion “in well-informed circles.” Nobody, publicly at least, thought it amounted to much. “Milledgeville is a very small town of about twenty-five hundred inhabitants,” announced the Richmond Sentinel. “Its only consequence is derived from its being the seat of Government.” The Richmond Examiner was certain that the Yankee excesses were merely driving lukewarm Southerners back into the Confederate fold. “General Sherman is not conquering Georgia back into the Union,” it proclaimed; “but many hitherto unbelieving Georgians by him [are] getting themselves baptized into the true Confederate faith.”
Taking in the big picture, the writers for the Richmond Whig, noting that Macon had been bypassed and that Hood’s army was left unchallenged to operate in the Union rear, decided “that SHERMAN’S march looks more like a retreat than an advance; more like a defensive than an aggressive movement.” President Jefferson Davis wasn’t quite as complacent. In a telegraph sent to Savannah he insisted that “every effort must be made to obstruct the route on which [Sherman]…is moving, and all other available means must be employed to delay his march, as well as to enable our forces to concentrate as to reduce him to want of the necessary supplies.”
Delay was very much on the mind of Major General Oliver O. Howard, commanding the Right Wing, in receipt of Sherman’s orders to get marching along the railroad toward Sandersville. It was becoming increasingly evident that the route following the railway was effectively barricaded at the Oconee River Bridge. Howard decided to flank the roadblock on both sides, sending Osterhaus (Fifteenth Corps) on a southern swing via Ball’s Ferry, while Blair (Seventeenth Corps) would jog north to a crossing place shown on the Federal maps as Jackson’s Ferry.
Meantime pressure would be maintained on the bridge itself, lest the enemy get wise to the other actions. Just to hedge his bets, the Right Wing commander sent his brother and aide, Lieutenant Colonel Charles H. Howard, to Sherman with the warning that he “might have to ask him to threaten the enemy from the north,” if it proved impossible to get over the Oconee. By the end of the day Major General Howard had his aides packing up the headquarters preparatory to moving closer to the river.
On the Confederate side of the Oconee River Bridge, relations between Major General Wayne (Georgia state troops) and Major Hartridge (C.S. Provisional Army) continued to deteriorate. The tone had been set on November 23, when Hartridge had hectored Wayne into remaining here. Today, each kept the telegraph operator busy with messages to Savannah.
Wayne began by reporting his belief that he was facing Kilpatrick’s cavalry division of “3,000 men,” then wondered if he and his men would ever “get out of this pickle.” When daylight arrived, the enemy began shelling his bridge defenses. Wayne reported the attack and requested 1,000 reinforcements. By day’s end, the militia officer believed he now had “more than Kilpatrick’s division in front of me,” and he passed along disturbing intelligence suggesting that the enemy was in his rear.
Hartridge ridiculed Wayne’s strength estimates, guessing that they were confronted by no “more than 800 men.” “My men are in good spirits,” he later asserted, “but I cannot depend much on the militia.” The Confederate Army major’s tone throughout was truculent, Wayne’s more resigned. Then, at about 8:15 P.M., the enemy across the Oconee suddenly lashed at them with “heavy volleys of small arms.” It wasn’t an assault, however, but covering fire for a bold party that set fire “to the far end of the trestle on this side.” After that things became ominou
sly quiet.
Thus far in the campaign, Sherman’s columns had been able to navigate the central Georgia road system with a good measure of success. Large-scale maps, prepared and distributed by Captain Poe at the beginning of the operation, provided a general orientation and direction. These charts were supplemented almost daily by scouting reports and tracings of regional guides taken from Georgia county courthouses and other governmental offices. This process had served the Union officers well, but the accuracy of the county maps was a function of local government, and sometimes they were out of date. Usually it was only a minor inconvenience, the matter of a few extra miles to be marched by a column. Today, however, Major General Howard found his entire operational plan thrown into disarray because of incorrect map information.
Howard had decided to bypass the Oconee River Bridge on either side, with the Seventeenth Corps swinging north to use a crossing identified as Jackson’s Ferry. The problem, as he learned this day, was that Jackson’s Ferry had not operated in a long time, and the road to it was in terrible shape. Men might make it, but not men with wagons.
The Fourth Division commander, Brigadier General Giles A. Smith, the first to recognize this setback, voiced his suspicions late on the afternoon of November 23. His immediate superior, Major General Frank Blair, refused to accept this negative assessment, citing “positive information from citizens” as his source. It took additional probes of the area before Blair finally agreed with Smith’s reiterated declaration, sent at midday, that “there is no Jackson’s Ferry, nor any practical crossing for ten or fifteen miles above” the Oconee River Bridge. The bad news took several more hours to work its way up the chain of command.
Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea Page 26
