Southern Storm: Sherman's March to the Sea

by Noah Andre Trudeau

  Sue Sample hurried downstairs to the sitting room. The sun had set, it was dark, but she could clearly make out that “a Yank was at each window with a cocked pistol in their hand, swearing all the time.” Large sweaty men pushed their way into the house, helping themselves to loose items and having a dinner prepared for them under protest. Recalled Sample: “I never was so frightened in all my life.”

  The Fifteenth Corps finally settled in for the night around Summerville. Just to the north, the Seventeenth Corps was crossing the Ogeechee River at Station No. 9½, Burton. “The railroad bridge at this point had been burned but was easily repaired and quickly covered in a sufficiently safe and substantial manner to admit of the cavalry and infantry crossing, while a pontoon bridge was laid a few rods above over which the artillery and trains were expeditiously moved,” reported a staff officer.

  Among those crossing with the Seventeenth Corps was Sherman and his headquarters. By the time the command group had reached the bridge, its approaches were a confused tangle of “wagons, footmen and horsemen,” which forced the party to pick its way “through slowly in single file, often having to stop,” recorded Major Hitchcock. Once settled on the other side, Sherman encountered one of the memorable characters of the campaign. Major Hitchcock identified him as “old Johnny Wells,” the former stationmaster here. Another staffer, Major George Nichols, thought him a “shrewd old fellow, with a comical build, he was evidently born to be fat and funny—as he was.”

  Even though his story was a well-worn one—a quiet Union man opposed to the war—his winning ways had even Sherman enjoying his company. “Never met a man more quick, in his way, in shrewd and odd ‘points’ and laughable sayings,” noted Hitchcock. “There’s John Franklin went through here the other day, running from your army,” Wells declared. “I could have played dominoes on his coattails.” Accepting the pilfering and destruction that was going on even as they conversed, Wells said, “It’ll take the help of Divine Providence, a heap of rain, and a deal of elbow-grease to fix things up again.” According to Sherman’s military telegrapher, Wells “came into camp soon after tea and chatted with the General and staff until Eleven O’clock.”

  Somehow Sherman did find time to attend to military matters. As late as 3:00 P.M. he was still fretting over a possible enemy effort at Millen. When he provided movement directions to Left Wing commander Major General Henry W. Slocum, Sherman also advised him to keep an ear cocked toward Millen “in case you hear the sound of battle.” Some time later, a courier arrived from Major General Howard with the best possible news. One of Howard’s most trustworthy scouts, Captain William Duncan, had just reported in from a recon to the east. Duncan with his men had penetrated to “within three miles of Millen, on this side [south] of the river, and found no enemy.” Along the way, the Yankees fell in with a Rebel lieutenant whom they took prisoner. “Not much information could be got from him,” Howard related. Still, if Duncan’s report held up and the enemy wasn’t making a stand at Millen, then another important hurdle would have been cleared.

  Not far from where Sherman’s campfires flickered, the passage of the Seventeenth Corps continued well into the morning hours. Major Hitchcock went to the river’s edge to watch the soldiers “crossing by light of fires on either side, striking scene, and sounds too.” With him was fellow staffer George Nichols, a sometime correspondent for the New York Post, who (writing anonymously) would produce a lengthy account of the campaign that was reprinted many times:* “A novel and vivid sight was it to see the first of pitch pine flaring up into the mist and darkness, the figures of man and horse looming out of the dense shadows in gigantic proportions. Torchlights are blinking and flashing away off in the forests, while the still air echoed and re-echoed with the cries of teamsters and the wild shouts of the soldiers. A long line of the troops marched across the foot bridge, each soldier bearing a torch; their light reflected in quivering lines in the swift running stream.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “Give Those Fellows a Start”

  THURSDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1864

  Every element in Sherman’s operation was in motion. The most provocative was a double-barreled column pushing out from Louisville that started at 12:15 P.M., following the most direct road to Waynesboro. The leading portion consisted of Brigadier General Kilpatrick’s cavalry division. Marching in their dust along the same route was Brigadier General Absalom Baird’s Third Division of the Fourteenth Corps. Exactly what the movement portended depended on who was asked.

  It was Sherman’s intention to keep Wheeler’s cavalrymen so occupied that they wouldn’t harass him as he pivoted on Millen to turn southeast toward Savannah—essentially exposing the logistical tail of his operation to enemy units operating out of Augusta. Griswoldville had shown him that the Rebels weren’t averse to sallying forth from a stronghold to strike at his rear.* So his directive to Kilpatrick was to move “in the direction of Augusta, [and] if Wheeler gave him the opportunity, to indulge him with all the fighting he wanted.”

  Kilpatrick’s sense of the mission was more circumscribed. According to his official report, its object was “to cover the movements of our troops, marching in several columns on Millen.” Brigadier General Baird had his own opinion, which he shared with his staff officer, Major James A. Connolly. Said the aide: “The General pointed out to me on the map, this morning, our line of march for the next few days, and I find that our Division, together with Kilpatrick’s cavalry is to form a flying column,* to be detached from the main army, and strike ahead boldly toward Augusta, fighting Wheeler, and everything else that comes in our way, stubbornly, driving them before us, and demonstrating in such a way as to confirm the impression that the army is advancing on Augusta.”

  Thursday, December 1, 1864

  The determined Confederate campaign of misinformation regarding Augusta’s defenses resulted in no one on the Union side really knowing what to expect. Enthusiastic newspaper accounts of troops arriving there from distant points were not taken at face value, nor were they dismissed out of hand. Connolly realized that “Sherman didn’t know what is at Augusta, or between here and there; neither do we know. A rebel army of 50,000 men may be on us before daylight tomorrow morning, for all we know, but I suppose that is just the reason Sherman has sent us off this way, and it will probably all turn out right.”

  What was actually standing in the way of the combined cavalry/infantry column were observation detachments sent out by Wheeler, who was holding his main body along Rocky Creek, perhaps twenty miles east from Louisville and five west from Waynesboro. The units assigned to shadow the flying column contested the advance using all their skills and advantages of ground. The Johnny Rebs, admitted an Indiana trooper, “fought us real stubbornly.” In one of the day’s first encounters, which took place some four miles out, the 5th Kentucky Cavalry came upon a roadblock situated so as to make a saber charge impossible and where, reported the Union commander, “nothing save bulldog fighting could do me any good.”

  It soon became apparent that the infantry was better suited to this kind of combat, so Kilpatrick asked Baird to take over the point. The column was rearranged—infantry in the center, cavalry on the flanks—and the march resumed. “We then moved rapidly,” Baird reported. It was getting dark by the time they reached Buckhead Creek—twelve miles west of Louisville and thirteen from Waynesboro—where they coiled up for the night in a defensive alignment. As fighting went, the day had been more noise than anything else, but everyone suspected that it would get worse.

  The rest of the infantry on the north side of the Ogeechee River—Sherman’s entire force save one corps—tramped eastward in three columns. The Seventeenth Corps was closest to the river, following the Central of Georgia Railroad. Moving in tandem north of it on the road from Louisville to Millen via Birdsville was the Twentieth Corps. Utilizing the next road system farther north were the two remaining divisions of the Fourteenth Corps, which were also shepherding most of the Left Wing’s wagons as well as
those for the cavalry. Off to their left were Baird and Kilpatrick.

  These movements brought blessed relief to the Louisville area residents. The past days had been an endless roulette of incursions into homes accompanied by the firing of unoccupied structures that often threatened adjacent houses. It took courage, determination, wit, and luck for people to hold on to as much of their property as they could without inciting further violence from marauding Yankees. When one woman rushed into her burning house to rescue belongings, she met a Federal soldier on his way out, clutching some of her best gingham cloth. To her great surprise, he thrust it at her as they passed, saying: “Here, I’ll give this to you.” “Thank you,” she answered, “it is mine anyhow.”

  On the outskirts of the town the Holt family had suffered a great deal. Convinced that Judge Holt, the clan patriarch, had hidden valuables, some foragers strung up and dangled him until he nearly passed out, all to force him to reveal the hiding place. Only the presence of a fellow Mason among the pillagers saved the roof over the family’s heads. Nora Holt, the plantation matron, learned that even their faithful servants had not been spared. One of the black women she owned came to her in tears, saying that the recent grave of her deceased child had been dug up in the search for plunder, the tiny coffined body left discarded next to the pit. “What kind of folks dese here Yankees?” she asked Mrs. Holt. “Dey won’t even let de dead rest in de grave.”

  Since the Seventeenth Corps was following the railroad right-of-way, it got the job of wrecking the line. “Broke camp at 7,” scrawled a diarist, “moved to railroad station and filed down track—troops tearing it up—reach our point—tear up, burn and twist—hard work—hot sun—hot fires!” “The rail was of the light pattern, such as is generally used now for horse-car tracks,” observed an Illinois man. This more malleable material made possible one of the enduring symbols of Sherman’s March. An Iowa soldier related that after the rails had been “heated in the middle for about 10 or 12 feet of their length they would fasten a piece of telegraph wire on either end and 6 or 8 of them would get hold of each end and take it to a tree or telegraph pole and going around in opposite directions would wind the rail around the tree. The boys called them neck ties.”

  While some soldiers “repaired” the railroad, others foraged. Gunpowder, however, was a critical item that could not be replenished through seizures. Orders issued today by the Seventeenth Corps commander addressed that issue. “The practice of indiscriminate firing must be stopped,” it proclaimed. Officers, who were strictly enjoined to monitor cartridge usage, were authorized to impose a penalty on those who acted irresponsibly. “The cartridge-boxes of forage parties will be inspected on their return from duty each day,” the directive continued, “and the men will be charged 50 cents for each cartridge missing that cannot be satisfactorily accounted for.” The orders proved to be another layer of paper control, difficult to enforce, and ignored by officers who did not regard the measures as serious enough to warrant attention.

  The Twentieth Corps and the two divisions of the Fourteenth not supporting Kilpatrick conducted their marches in the standard pattern—organized parties of foragers spread far and wide, with the main column taking care of cotton to be burned or structures to be demolished. Private Rumor walked in the ranks, this day with tales of Hood’s fate in Tennessee, possible destinations for the campaign, and the story of a wealthy widow willing to put up $40,000 for the return of her husband’s body from the battleground at Gettysburg.

  Despite Wheeler’s focus on protecting Waynesboro by stopping Kilpatrick, there were still enough mounted Rebel bands infiltrating the line of march to make it a gamble for a small foraging party and a scrap for a larger one. “On the 1st of December, three men, belonging to the regiment, were murdered,” reported a member of the 21st Ohio. Adding to the litany was a diary entry by a soldier in the 79th Pennsylvania who recorded that the “Rebels…captured our Brig[ade] Q[uarter] M[aster] & 3 men, shooting them all, some of them with their throats cut from ear to ear.” The officer commanding the 88th Indiana reported that his foraging party “numbering thirty-two men and one officer, were attacked some five miles out by a squad of rebel cavalry, but succeeded in getting off with a goodly supply of forage and no loss.”

  The Seventeenth Corps would bivouac for this night near the Burke County line on the grounds of the Joseph B. Jones plantation, “said to be one of the finest in the state.” The two Fourteenth Corps divisions reached Reynolds’s plantation, scene of Kilpatrick’s fierce holding action. The Twentieth Corps paused in Burke County, about two-thirds of the way from Louisville to Birdsville. As the soldiers settled down for the evening, a member of the 129th Illinois was treated to an impromptu vocal concert by some of the Rebel prisoners he was guarding, with lyrics tailored to the occasion:

  Come, Come, Come, Rain, Come

  Come ’till you flow o’re our boots

  Come and we’ll thank ’ye to keep back Yankee

  Until our ranks are filled up with recruits.

  South of the river the Fifteenth Corps matched general course and speed with the rest of the army, managing to avoid much of the forager problems happening north of them, but passing over a landscape clearly not intended for military traffic. “This was a busy day for the Pioneer Corps,” related an Illinois soldier. “Many bad sloughs were bridged or corduroyed with rails and poles, to make them passable for the artillery and trains.” “We…have to wade the swamps every two or three hundred yards,” seconded a weary Buckeye. For the next few days this corps would operate in two columns moving on a pair of roads that, according to Major General Osterhaus’s map, ran “substantially parallel to and south of the Ogeechee River and the Savannah railroad.” If true, this route would carry the men almost to the very outskirts of Savannah itself.

  The major encounters on this leg of Sherman’s March were between man and creatures. An Ohio soldier reported finding “American scorpions” in the camp, while a Minnesotan recorded the death of a twelve-foot pine snake. Food gathering went well, a member of the 66th Illinois recalling the sight of “the foragers coming in loaded down with bee-hives on their shoulders, the open end of the hive to the rear, and bees flying back to their master’s plantation; some of the boys have young porkers on their horses.” This night the corps’ encampments were roughly in line with Millen, on course toward Statesboro.

  The passage east of the Fifteenth Corps meant that peace finally returned to the Sample plantation and its neighbors, though a high price had been paid. When the morning passed without incident, Sue Sample with her sister-in-law Rachel went calling on Rachel’s aunt, who lived next door. The Yankees here had been especially destructive. “The beds were torn open, feathers all out,” Sample recollected. “The bedsteads were chopped to pieces, books stolen, and not a thing left worth sleeping on.” It was all too much for Rachel, who “fell across the bed and wept.”

  There was worse to come. Another wave of foragers (these on foot) passed through the area to take care of everything that the mounted men couldn’t carry. “They shot all the hogs in the pen,” remembered Sample. “We could hear nothing but guns all day and the squeals of hogs.” She at last encountered an officer whom she identified as being Brigadier General John E. Smith. “Our Men are carrying on a great destruction,” he remarked. Observing soldiers loading wagons with precious stocks of corn, Sample begged them to leave something for the women and children to eat. When the foragers finally departed, they left enough corn on hand to guarantee that the family would not starve, though many of her neighbors told Sample that they had been cleaned out. Sue Sample always wondered: “Was it my entreaties that saved it?”

  The closest anyone in Rebel authority came to Sherman’s advance today was Station No. 7 on the Central of Georgia Railroad, also called Scarboro. Major General Henry C. Wayne of the Oconee Bridge action arrived on a special train from Savannah. All he could gather before reversing down the line were unconfirmed bits of news; that the enemy was already in
Millen, and that Sherman had split his army in order to advance along both sides of the Ogeechee. His arrival and departure were observed by Union scouts sent out by Major General Howard, who was then just across the river. The scouts noted that Wayne’s train was operating “with great caution.”

  North of Wayne, at his camp along Rocky Creek, Major General Wheeler mulled over a dispatch from General Bragg’s adjutant that seemed to put the entire responsibility for stopping Sherman on his small command. Not only was the cavalry general expected to “cover the enemy’s front,” but he was also supposed to “retard his movements much, whatever may be his line of march.” In addition, Wheeler was tasked with spreading the word that “we are very largely re-enforced here [at Augusta] and at Savannah, and are preparing for any movement on us.”

  This day had an emotional start for Sherman, who began it by biding farewell to “old Johnny Wells.” The General, recollected a staff member present, “took the trouble to go round by his house[,] shake hands & say good bye. The scene was quite affecting. The tears trickled down [Wells’s]…face and all he could say was God bless you and make you successful.”

  Sherman accompanied the Seventeenth Corps, and likely stopped from time to time to proffer unsolicited advice on the proper way to destroy a railroad. Camp for this night was at the Jones plantation, where Major Hitchcock had nothing but scorn for the master, a fire-breathing Rebel legislator who took himself off to safety in Savannah, while leaving his property in the care of his wife, “sick in bed; infant four days old, eight other children [present]…oldest only ten or eleven years old.” Sherman spoke to the invalid mistress to set her mind at ease, then arranged for supplies to be stocked in the house. He took no action to halt the foraging that was otherwise stripping the Jones holdings.