The spring of 1864 opened with millions of anxious patriots looking in the direction of our armies.

General Grant had virtually been made commander in chief of all the union forces, with personal direction of the Army of the Potomac.

Every lover of his country had come to understand that the policy of conquering rebel territory and guarding rebel property would never crush out rebellion.

The military policy of General Grant, of making the objective point of campaigns the rebel armies, met the good sense and received the hearty approval of the patriotic people of the United States.

Some raised the cry of "butcher," but every thoughtful man that knew the desperate intentions, the bravery, the skill, and the strong defensive positions occupied by the rebel armies, knew that their destruction meant severe marches, terribly destructive battles, thousands of brave men killed, and vastly more wounded and maimed for life; but in the face of all these mighty sacrifices, that the poverty of language will not enable us to describe, the patriotic people of the north said, "We will sustain the army at all hazards," and the armies responded, "Let us set forward."

It is a well-known fact that in the winter of 1864, at the Burnett House in the city of Cincinnati, Ohio, the two greatest generals developed by the war, Grant and Sherman, met in counsel. Sherman, while a line officer in the regular army, had become most thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the state of Georgia, and it was at this consultation that the campaign from Chattanooga to Atlanta and the grand march "from Atlanta to the sea" were developed and determined upon. It was at this consultation that Sherman said, "The confederacy is a shell and I can march an army through it." It was at this consultation that Grant said, "If you undertake it, I will hold Lee and his armies, that they give you no trouble." At the end of this meeting each of the great commanders repaired to his respective scene of action to carry forward the purposes determined on thereat.

The first of May, 1864, found assembled in the vicinity of Chattanooga, and as far south as Ringgold, Ga., the forces with which General Sherman proposed to crush the shell of the rebellion. It consisted of the Army of the Cumberland, General George H. Thomas in command; the Army of the Tennessee, under the especial command of General McPherson; the 23d Corps, commanded by General Schofield; the 20th Army Corps, still in command of the hero of Lookout mountain, "Fighting Joe Hooker," as he was often called in army circles, and also a brigade of regulars. Then as able lieutenants in command of corps and divisions, Sherman had Logan, Blair, Sickels, Stanley, Wood, Slocum, Osterhaus, and many others, all fighting officers. Sheridan, at that time, had been transferred to the Army of the Potomac by the especial order of General Grant, who witnessed General Sheridan's heroic conduct at Missionary Ridge.

I suppose very few of the people of the north ever had anything like a correct idea of the magnitude of the work undertaken by General Sherman in the campaign of Atlanta. The distance from Louisville to Nashville is stated to be one hundred and eighty-five miles, and from Nashville to Chattanooga it is said to be one hundred and fifty-one miles, and from Nashville to Bridgeport on the Tennessee river, two hundred and eleven miles. This long line of railway from Louisville to Chattanooga, and from Nashville to Bridgeport, Ala., five hundred and forty-seven miles, had to be guarded by military force every mile. For it must be remembered that while the state of Kentucky never went out of the Union and was ostensibly a loyal state, nevertheless, it required more soldiers to look after its disloyal citizens than she furnished to the cause of the Union, not for one moment forgetting that the state of Kentucky furnished some as brave and loyal soldiers as ever sprung a rammer and some as valiant officers as ever drew a saber. Notwithstanding, she had a large population in the aggregate that engaged in that disreputable kind of warfare known as bushwhacking, and very many that did not were ever ready to furnish aid and comfort to our enemy. Again, no portion of Tennessee, save east Tennessee, laid any claim to anything but intense love of the southern confederacy. Blockhouses had to be constructed every few miles of this route and a vast number of soldiers employed in keeping open this line of communications. Nashville was the grand base of supplies, where had been accumulated for many months all kinds of army stores, and from this base General Sherman had to draw supplies of rations, ammunition, and clothing for his campaign in Georgia; while the route from Nashville to Louisville must be kept open to renew the supplies at the base, as well as to send the sick and wounded to the northern hospitals.

It is almost needless for me to state before this intelligent audience that the genius of General Sherman was entirely equal to the emergency. And while the oddities and comical features of great men will usually be better remembered than any others, those of us that participated in that memorable campaign will remember well that no precautionary matter was overlooked by the ever watchful general. If what he really meant by "light marching order" was so difficult to understand that a cavalryman construed it to mean "necktie and a pair of spurs," he was no less exacting of himself and staff and many a night on this campaign he bivouacked as would a picket on an outpost. The thoroughness of his preparation was the sequel of his success. Knowing very well that overrunning rebel territory did not make loyal citizens of its inhabitants, he took the precaution to have his engineers make drawings of every wooden bridge between Louisville and Chattanooga, and between Nashville and Bridgeport. Nor was this all. He had his corps of mechanics construct duplicate bridges for the entire line south of Nashville. He was not satisfied only with his precautions to guard and care for his line of communications to his base of supplies, but he in some manner procured plans of the bridges from Chattanooga to Atlanta, and had bridges constructed and loaded on flat cars ready for use at any time when wanted. It was perfectly astounding the perfect order and dispatch with which he reconstructed the railroads as his campaign progressed, and with such celerity did his engineer corps perform its duty that after the bridge was burned by the rebel rear guards the same would be rebuilt, and the screams of the locomotive would mingle with the rattle of the musketry of the skirmishers just across the river, always reminding us that Uncle Billy's railroad was in good working order and that our "cracker line" was secure. But the vigilance of his preparation was not satisfied with being able to keep up his railroad lines—he had the finest pontoon corps that was ever organized.

Each man was drilled in the movements necessary to put down a pontoon bridge or remove one from the water and replace the same on the wagons as efficiently as an infantryman in the manual of arms or a cannoneer in the handling of a fieldpiece. It was a sight that seemed the perfection of celerity to witness his pontoon corps put down a bridge, and every line of march was thoroughly equipped in this particular.

But what I have heretofore described were not all the obstacles in the way of the making of the Atlanta campaign a success. While we were beyond the Tennessee mountains, while we had crossed the Tennessee river, the country from Ringgold to the south bank of the Chattahoochee river was naturally most admirable defensive ground. Every few miles were high ridges and small mountain ranges remarkably well adapted for defensive military positions; added to this the enemy had no rear that required guarding, had no hostile population to watch and distrust, had the most accurate information as to streams and roads, had swarms of volunteer spies to inform him of our every movement, and finally, had an army of slaves to do his intrenching ready to his hand and use when he was ready to fall back to a new position. This, all this, and more than I have time to describe, must be considered if we would thoroughly comprehend the military magnitude of the Atlanta campaign.

When General Sherman was ready to commence the forward movement, there must have been assembled from Chattanooga to Ringgold between eighty and one hundred thousand men, and on the third day of May, 1864, just as the magnolias were beginning to open their fragrant blossoms to the south wind, and the mocking birds were beginning to make the woods vocal with their songs, our division struck tents and commenced the march southward, and the evening of the fourth found us two and one-half miles from Ringgold confronting the enemy's pickets. From this time until the ninth we made short marches southward, skirmishing with the rebels each day. On the ninth our brigade was composed of the 124th O. V. I., the 41st O. V. I. the 93d O. V. I., the 9th I. V. I., and the 6th Ky. V. I. The brigade was commanded by General William B. Hazen and we had moved as far toward Dalton as a position known locally as Buzzard's Roost, a pass in the White Oak mountains. Here we found the rebels in position, the pass strongly fortified and commanded by a number of heavy guns.

At this position our brigade had an order to charge the mountain at the left of the pass, which order was executed, and we came within two hundred yards of the top of the mountain, where we found it broken off into palisades thirty feet in height. These palisades we had no means of ascending and so the charge ended. Our regiment lost three men killed and ten wounded. This movement was afterwards explained as a demonstration to deceive the enemy, but some of us will always think that we were the ones that were deceived. There was heavy firing on the right of the pass and in the direction of Snake Creek Gap, where a portion of Hooker's Corps fought a severe battle, the 29th O. V. I. losing very heavily. While in this position (Buzzard's Roost) we were terribly annoyed by sharpshooters posted above the palisades, the bugler of the 93d being killed.

All things considered, this position was properly named, and had Dore been there he could, without doubt, within the wilds of that mountain, have found some new illustrations for Dante's Inferno.

Early in the morning of the 13th we found the rebels had abandoned their position, and a party of us, while waiting for orders to move, managed to climb to the top of the mountain. Here we had a splendid view of the scenery of northern Georgia. Away to the north we could see old Lookout towering up, while beyond we could distinctly trace Waldron's and other ridges of the Cumberlands. To the south and west one range of hills after another, with an occasional mountain, as far as the eye could reach, showing us that our way was one of difficulty as well as danger.

About two p. m. we fell into line, marched into and through the pass, and had time to examine the strength of the abandoned rebel works. These works were evidently constructed with the hope that our commander would undertake to force the pass. That afternoon we marched through Dalton, a small village situated near an unbroken forest of pine, a kind from which the inhabitants make turpentine. The country seemed very poor, and from what we could see of the inhabitants we were forced to come to the same conclusion as to them.

The next day, May 14th, we struck the enemy in position at Resaca, and we immediately charged and drove him inside of his works, while our brigade occupied the line of a ridge running from near an angle of the rebel works and within a stone's throw of them. In this charge our young Colonel Payne, then in command of the regiment, just having returned recovered from a very dangerous wound received at Chickamauga that nearly cost him his life, showed consummate bravery, riding his horse in the charge across an open field in a perfect storm of bullets.

It was nearly dusk when we came into position, and before we took the ridge that finally formed our line, had some severe fighting. We had the opportunity of seeing a counter charge against General Willich's brigade on our right. The rebels came at Willich in fine shape, just as he was coming into position, but it seemed they had no real good appetite for an open field fight and got back into their works in the order of "every one for himself." That night we threw up intrenchments on this line and the next morning the enemy still confronted us.

We had orders early in the day that we should be required to charge the enemy's position in our front. In our immediate front there is a deep ravine, and the rebel works ran across this at right angles to our line. Whenever we charged from our works our right flank was exposed to the fire from the rebel intrenchments. At about two p. m. the charge was ordered and our line moved out over our intrenchments. No sooner was it exposed to the flank fire from the enemy behind the works than it went to pieces. Most of the men got back in as good shape as did the rebels that charged on Willich. Some of our regiment got into a position where they could not return with any safety, and stayed out and came in under the cover of darkness. Later in the afternoon the 20th Corps made two or three attempts to break the rebel line, but each time failing, and when the morning of the sixteenth dawned the enemy had abandoned his works and put the little river called Coosa between himself and us.

What good results the battle of Resaca may have had on the campaign I cannot say, but it is certain the enemy was forced back by some movement made by General Sherman on his flanks that would compel him to fight outside of his works. We took a number of prisoners at this position, and our regiment lost quite severely. We marched through the town and found it all knocked into splinters by the shelling it had suffered during the two days' battle. We crossed the river and marched about five miles to the southward that night.

The experience of one day did not vary much from that of another. The seventeenth we marched through a county town called Calhoun, county seat of Gordon county. It was march and skirmish every day. This is a better country than any other we had seen in northern Georgia, but desolation was written all over it after we passed. At almost every plantation we came to the rebels made a stand and the mansion house a fortress from which to fire at our skirmishers, and when we drove them out the house almost invariably took fire, and at all times of day and night the heavens were lurid with the flames of rebel homes. The country from Resaca to the Etowah river was the most absolutely desolated of any that we ever left behind us.

Between Cartersville and Adairsville I picked up a muster roll of a company of an Alabama regiment that had written thereon eighty-four names. Until I found this roll I was not aware the Roman Catholic church was so strong in the south. The four commissioned officers signed the roll by their signatures, but the enlisted men each put the sign of the cross in the place of the signature. On this march one of the boys found a copy of the debates of the Georgia convention, held in the winter of 1860-61, at which the state resolved to go out of the Union.

It contained the speech of Alexander H. Stevens, made in the convention, in which he warned the delegates of the deluge of blood and fire that would be poured down on their fair state by the invading armies of the north. It seemed almost prophetic to us who read this speech in the light of those blazing southern homes, and it also seemed that we were the ones he saw in his prophetic vision. Of course, all the prophetic power he had was the keen intellectual force he possessed, and whether he believed his own prophesies or not, he was afterward chosen vice president of the confederate states and served as such during the life of the rebellion. This book was carried along for days, hoping to save it as a relic of this memorable campaign, but the time comes in the experience of every soldier when a pocketknife seems a burden, and this book, containing all the venom of the southern fire-eaters, couched in language not only learned and chaste in style, but eloquent in diction, had to be thrown away. Stevens, alone, tried to stem the tide of secession, "but it was the voice of a drowning man in the midst of the breakers."

With marching and skirmishing every day the time wore away, and May 23d found us on the north bank of the Etowah, a fine river that comes down from northeastern Georgia, the valley of which seemed very fertile and productive. This river we crossed on one of Sherman's lightning bridges and struck out over what is known, locally, as the burnt hickory district, across the ridges of the Allatoona mountains in the direction of Dallas. Here Hooker's Corps had a heavy battle, but our corps was not engaged.

The next position taken by the enemy was known as Dallas, though the battles along the position were known by different names. I should say before passing that we were now in what (before the discovery of gold in California) was known as the gold region of Georgia. Our boys brought in from time to time, while in this position, some beautiful specimens of gold bearing and crystallized quartz, but I suppose they had to be thrown away to lighten the burden of the soldier when the time comes that one has to give thought and close attention to be able to put one leg before the other. This seems hardly probable to my young friends here to-day, so full of health and activity, but how many times have we heard the dear boys say, "Captain, I cannot take another step to save my life." Often we would pull out of the road and go into camp near some clear mountain stream, and you would see the boys pulling off their shoes and stockings and holding their blistered feet in the cool water by the half-hour, before making any preparations for supper or sleep. But what pen will ever be able enough, what tongue will be eloquent enough, to portray the trials and sufferings of the march and battlefield, to say nothing of sickness, death and wounds.

May 26th our corps found the enemy in position at what was known as Dallas. That night the rebels attacked General Logan's Corps and were badly repulsed. This was the only serious night attack I ever knew in all my army experience. All have known more or less firing at night, but this was the first and only charging column that I ever knew to be sent off at night. There seems to be too much uncertainty about it to favor nocturnal battles.

Early the twenty-seventh we were on the move, my company on the skirmish line. About ten o'clock we heard that our beloved major, James B. Hampson, who was on staff duty with General Wood, commanding division, was killed. This was very sad news, indeed, as the major was idolized by the regiment, and we all recognized the fact that he had done so much to make soldiers of us. He was one of the most intelligent, soldierly and brave officers in the 4th Army Corps. One thing was a little strange, the major always insisted that he would be killed in the service. Early in the war the major was a member of the Cleveland Grays, and belonged to that splendid organization for many years before. He was, without doubt, the best drilled man in the 3d Division.

It seemed to be the object of General Sherman to put the 4th Corps in on the left, find the right flank of the enemy, "catch it in air," if possible, bring on a general engagement, destroy the rebel army, and thereby end the campaign. It was the fortune of Company B, which I commanded, to be ordered to the skirmish line, with other portions of the brigade, and which line in front of our division was in command of Major Williston, of the 41st O. V. I. Very many times that day we moved to the front, but always found the enemy in very strong works, and then we would withdraw and move by the left flank still further to the left. Late in the afternoon we came near the Pumpkinvine creek, and found the rebels without works. This fact was immediately reported to division headquarters. We drove the rebel skirmish line back on his line of battle. Colonel Payne sent me an order to force the skirmish line well to the front, and word was sent back that we were fighting the main line of the enemy, not one hundred feet away. The rebel line was on the top of a ridge that runs along the valley of the creek, and is naturally a very strong position. Soon the brigade came up and charged the hill, but was unable to go beyond our skirmishers. Later on General Howard put in General Wm. H. Gibson's brigade, the general leading the charge on foot. Never did I see men show more courage than did Gibson's brigade in this charge, but all was unavailing. The rebels reinforced their line with General Pat. Cleburne's division, and thereby far outnumbered the men we had engaged in the action. Had an entire division been put in between our left and Pumpkinvine creek mill pond, early in the afternoon, I believe the result would have been different. As it was a brigade was fought at a time, on a very short line where the hill was steepest, and the enemy's position the most unassailable. The result was that our brigade was the worst cut up of all the battles in which we were engaged. We fought in this position until dark, and then what was left of the two brigades, that had been put into this slaughter pen, withdrew to the other side of the valley. I have said that my company was on the skirmish line and opened the battle, and fought with the main line when the same came up. About four o'clock in the afternoon I went over to the left of the line to see how the battle was progressing in that quarter, and met Lieutenant Stedman where an old road comes winding down the hill. I made some inquiry as to how the boys were getting on, and he told me Adam Waters had been killed. Adam Waters was one of the best men of our company. He also informed me that a great many others of the company and regiment were badly wounded. He said: "Captain, we can hold this position until reinforcements come up, can we not?" I replied, "I think so, but what we want is to carry this hill." I was facing up the hill, and he stood with his face toward me, and so near that I could have laid my hand on his shoulder. All at once a great stream of blood spouted from his left breast. He gave me one look, as much as to say "my time has come," and sank in my arms, dead. I moved his body out of the road, and folded his arms across his breast. I took his watch and memorandum book, and laid his new and beautiful saber on his body, marked the tree under which he laid with my knife, so I could find the spot again, and amid the thunders of battle I left him reposing on the loving breast of mother earth, while sadly I left for another part of the field. There on that lone hillside was sacrificed one of the very few absolutely brave men I ever knew. I moved over to the right of the line, and there I saw Captain John Irving, sitting up, his body reclining against the body of a small sapling, smoking his pipe, his face as white as the driven snow. I said: "Captain are you wounded?" "Yes, it is all day with me," he replied. I asked him where he was wounded, he pointed to his right groin. I learned from him that Lieutenant Colonel Pickands and Captain Wm. Wilson were also wounded. Captain John Irving died at the hospital at Chattanooga some weeks afterward. I think the 124th O. V. I. never had a line officer that was held in higher respect, for his great bravery, soldierly conduct, as well as social qualities, than Captain John Irving.

It was now quite dark, and the firing had ceased all along the line. The few men that came out of the battle together gathered around Colonel Payne. He was all alone. His gallant major had been killed early in the day, and his lieutenant colonel had been dangerously wounded. Of course, we had hopes that many more would come in during the night, as we were withdrawn from the field in squads, and without any word of command that all could hear, and the men were coming in all night.

The night was very dark, and I proposed to Sergeant Orson Vanderhoef of our company, that if he and two others would volunteer to go with me we would go over to the hillside and bring off the body of Lieutenant Stedman. Ort. was made of the best of stuff, and with two others, as good, we started. Never saw I such a scene before. The old dead pine trees standing on the ridge had taken fire from the bursting shells and cast a weird and gloomy light over the battlefield. When we came to the old road we followed it up and soon came to the tree under which the body of the dead lieutenant lay. Some one had taken his saber that I so much wanted to send home to his only child, at that time a small boy, but we searched in vain for it. I never can forget the terrible sounds that filled our ears. When the wounded men discovered that some one was there they began such piteous appeals for help. "For God's sake can't you give me a drop of water?" "Can't you help me off the field, so I may not be captured?" The memory of that dread scene haunts me still, and I suppose will as long as I can turn in fond recollection to those brave men that were so ruthlessly sacrificed at the battle of New Hope Church. Would it not be the proper thing for General O. Howard (between his prayers) to explain why he left that hillside with its great number of wounded men to fall into the hands of a merciless enemy, when a good skirmish line could have held it, at least until the wounded could have been removed? I would not have propounded this inquiry had I not seen some of his war articles in a popular magazine. But I must return to my sad story. I said to Sergeant Vanderhoef that he and I would take the shoulders, and the others might divide the balance of the burden, as Ort. and I were a little the more muscular of the party. We had just stooped down to raise the body of our loved comrade when there rang out the silvery notes of a bugle, so clear and soft one might have mistaken it for some night bird's call. Ort. said: "Captain, what's that?" I said: "I guess that is some artillery call. It is certainly not an infantry call." Ort. said: "By G—d, it's the rebel forward, I've heard it many a time on picket, and we'd better be getting out of here pretty G—d d—d quick." Just at this instant a rebel skirmisher stepped into the old road, and the blaze of his musket went away past where we stood. I whispered to separate instantly, and away we went down the hill. The firing had now become general all along the line, telling the story only too plainly that the field, with all of its wealth of dead and wounded comrades, had been abandoned to the tender mercies of one of the most cruel enemies that ever fought a battle. Common humanity would have dictated that a fresh line should have been established on that field, and maintained there until the last wounded union soldier had been tenderly borne back to the field hospital. The only reason the rebels charged over that battlefield that night was because they knew no line of union skirmishers was there to oppose them, and they could plunder the brave dead and wounded without danger of molestation.

As soon as one was away from the light of the burning pines it was so dark one could not see a hand before him, and the first thing that I realized I was up to my neck in Picket's mill pond; but, being a Baptist, that did not astonish me to any alarming extent. I groped around in the darkness not knowing whether my wandering steps were bearing me into our lines or the rebels'. At length, about three o'clock a. m., I came upon a group of men and asked who they were. One replied they were General Howard and staff. I told them my name, rank, company and regiment, as well as brigade and division, and asked for directions. None of them could give any and I was about to leave when it occurred to me that was the corps commandant, and I, as an officer, had a duty to perform. I addressed the general, begging his pardon for the intrusion, and told him that I had been driven off the battlefield, and that there was not so much as a union picket between our lines and the rebels. You might have supposed that he thanked me for the information, and that he would have said "that he would have the matter looked into," but on the contrary his reply was: "There is not a word of truth in your story, sir. Go away from here, this is my headquarters." I went immediately away reflecting how it was possible for a man to be such a devout Christian and a corps commander, and still be so little of a gentleman.

When I found the regiment they were intrenching, and I worked with them until daylight, when we found our works faced to the rear. We soon put out a skirmish line, reformed our works, and this battle under the different names of Picket's Mills, Pumpkinvine creek and New Hope Church, was the last engagement in which our brigade took part on the rebel position known as Dallas.

In this battle of New Hope Church, just described in the poor way that a line officer has of seeing such a conflict, our regiment lost very heavily in officers and men. I see by a note I made at the time that the brigade in this action lost five hundred and sixty men. We remained in this position for a number of days, skirmishing and fighting, somewhere, almost constantly. It was at this position that we had the benefit of a lesson and example from the regular brigade. On this line the regulars joined us on the left. The rebel skirmish line ran along by the edge of a wood, while from our line to theirs the ground was open and comparatively level. To avoid losing men, we put our skirmishers out before daylight in the morning, avoiding any formal "guard mounting," and relieved them after dark at night. The regulars took the regular regulation way. At nine o'clock every morning they had "guard mounting," omitting no formality of the same. The rebel skirmish line, safe in their pits, firing into them all the time. The new line going out under fire, and the relieved one coming back under the same conditions. This occurred every morning as long as we remained in this position. I am not certain whether this fact ever came to the knowledge of the general officers or not, but the fact became so notorious that the men from all along our brigade were in the habit of coming in behind our works to witness the "regular guard mounting." They used to lose from two to five men every morning. The boys used to call it the "regular slaughter pen."

We remained in this position until the fifth of June, when we found that Sherman's flanking process had done its work and the rebels had abandoned their position, and we moved to the left to within three miles of Ackworth. From this time until we again struck the rebel position, the twenty-second of June, it was march, skirmish and intrench. This gave us but little rest, and the boys were looking haggard and careworn. This constant skirmishing, this no place of safety, this constant alarm, and night work on intrenchments, seemed to fatigue and wear out men more than fighting hard battles, followed by security and rest.

We had now pushed our line as far south as Marietta, a beautiful town, situated just north of the Chattahoochee river, and just south of Kennesaw mountain. This country of central Georgia is somewhat peculiar in its formation. There are no distinct mountain ranges south of the Allatoonas, but here and there a beautiful little mountain rises all alone above the surrounding country, that seems very much like table-land, though not level enough to bear that appellation. Among these solitary mountains, the names of which I remember, are Pine, where the rebel general, Bishop Polk, was killed before we reached our present position, Kennesaw mountain, Lost mountain and Stone mountain. All these little mountains were taken advantage of, as defensive positions, by the enemy; and here at Marietta the rebel line ran over the north side of Kennesaw, making an admirable position for its right flank. Here we forced our way very close to the enemy's works and in some places our works approached theirs to within two hundred feet, so that neither army could have a skirmish line beyond its works. When we were coming into this close position, the rebels made a charge and were repulsed with great slaughter; and their dead lay there unburied until after they abandoned this line. Some of us went over this portion of the line, and it was with difficulty that we picked our way among the rebel dead. I never saw the dead lie thicker, save at Chickamauga; and it took a strong man to stand the terrible stench that arose from that field in this almost tropical climate. I think this position of the enemy was the strongest of any we had encountered, and for the benefit of those that were not there I will describe these rebel works and defenses. In the first place there was the timber, the trees were felled and the tops turned outward, the small branches all trimmed off and the large ones sharpened. These trees, so trimmed, were placed contiguously to each other, and the buts staked down with heavy stakes driven deep into the ground. This first line of rebel defenses was about shoulder high to an ordinary man, and could only be cleared away by axmen. Their second line was constructed in this wise: A ditch was dug about four feet deep, pine poles from three to four inches in diameter were cut and sharpened to a point, set about four inches apart at an angle of about forty-five degrees, facing outward, and coming up about breast high. This ditch was filled with earth, and tamped solidly, then near the ground these sharpened stakes were woven together with withes. A more formidable defense could hardly be invented. Their third line of defense required more labor. They cut pine logs about twelve inches in diameter, and bored them through the center at right angles, with three inch augers; these holes were filled with pine poles six feet long sharpened at each end, and driven through the log just halfway. These logs were halved together and pinned, and the splices wrapped with telegraph wire, thus making a continuous line. This defense is what the French call Chevauxdefrise, and is just as formidable one side up as the other, and cannot be gotten over without axmen. Finally, the rifle pits, with head-logs thereon, leaving a space of about three inches, through which an infantryman could aim and fire in comparative safety, the head-logs fully protecting the head above the line of sight. These defenses were placed and constructed about fifteen rods apart, and all within the deadly range of the Enfield rifle with which our mother country had armed the confederacy; and a more accurate, longer range muzzle-loader was never invented. A portion of the enemy's line, with defenses just as I have described above, General Sherman tried to carry by assault the twenty-seventh day of June, and lost three thousand men in fifteen minutes, General Newton making the assault with the first division of the 4th corps. Our brigade was in position to support the assaulting columns and we saw the disastrous charge, but the charge failing we were not put in. Here the brave young General Harker was killed, while leading one of the assaulting columns. That the charge would fail was inevitable. A single line of battle of the enemy, armed as they were, inside of such defenses, could repulse any mass of men that could be sent against them. It would require a man without a musket and accouterments, armed with a good ax, from five to ten minutes to cut through these three outer lines of defenses, and the idea of assaulting such a position without first having these defenses cleared away, was entirely preposterous. It would have cost the killing or wounding of one thousand axmen to have cleared the way for a regimental front to charge. After the terrible disaster of the twenty-seventh of June, 1864, General Sherman came out in a long general order, which was in fact a very weak excuse for this disastrous blunder, and winding up in substance as follows: "My soldiers must learn that they must charge in all places, and that we cannot depend at all times upon flank movements."

I suffer no man, no old soldier, to stand before me in my admiration for the services rendered our country by that grand old hero, General W. T. Sherman, but in military life, like civil life, a man may be very valuable and great in one direction, and of very little value in another. That general was not developed during the war for the suppression of the rebellion, that could handle one hundred thousand men in such a fine manner, keeping them all in hand, like General Sherman. But when it came to fighting in a country the Atlanta campaign was fought over, with the defenses his army had to meet, his corps commanders, and his men generally, had very little confidence in his judgment. This feeling, that he knew was quite general, was the inspiration of the famous order that I have referred to before, issued after the battle of Kennesaw mountain, June 27th, 1864. I have it on the authority of Colonel Payne, that Generals Thomas, Logan, McPherson and others of his generals on the campaign, persuaded him out of many an assault he had ordered, that would have been as disastrous as that of Kennesaw mountain. But that any of them had the ability to do as well as he did I do not believe. General Thomas had the best of judgment in fighting a battle and what men could do and should attempt, but he would never have gotten his army there as Sherman did. Of course General Sherman never admitted his mistake in ordering the assault at Kennesaw, but we all remember he never repeated it during the remainder of the campaign.

In the position in front of Kennesaw we saw trees twelve inches in diameter cut completely off by the fire of musketry alone—simply bitten out, piece by piece, until the trees would fall. You can imagine about how much ammunition was expended?

On the third of July we found the rebels had again retired, and we followed up, passing through Marietta. We made a short stop near the Georgia State Military Institute. Some of us went up on one of the buildings and had a fine view of the surrounding country. We marched in all to the southward six miles this day, and turned in to get ready to celebrate the glorious fourth, to-morrow. The morning of the fourth opened with more than a national salute, and though we did not do much fighting there was plenty of cannonading on our right, and it was currently reported in camp that fifteen hundred prisoners had been captured, which caused "the day we celebrate" to be indeed a glorious fourth. The fifth we found the rebels had again abandoned their works in our front, and our regiment deployed as skirmishers, and held the advance of the division. We found, on the top of the hill that overlooks the Chattahoochee river, a "butternut" that had evidently tired of the southern confederacy, for, as Hood puts it, had "enlisted in the line." He had bent down a sapling, fastened a piece of bark around "his melancholy neck" and to the sapling, and then let go. He was one of those lank, lean rebels that had not flesh enough on his bones to even decay. He had dried up like a piece of beef, and was an elegant specimen of a confederate mummy. This item of news in time of peace would, undoubtedly, have furnished a sensational article for a Marietta paper, but the boys cut him down and the line moved on.

In the afternoon, as we approached the river, from the top of a high hill we saw Atlanta. It looked as good to us as the promised land did to Moses, as there we saw the end of this terribly exacting and fatiguing campaign. As we were driving the rebels down to the river, at the south side of an open field, the rebels erected rail barricades, from which it gave us some trouble to dislodge them. I thought by swinging the left of our line around we could "gobble them in," and not expose our center to their fire, protected as they were, and had sent word to that effect to Captain Raidaie, who had charge of that portion of the line. About this time General Tommy Wood, commander of our division, rode up, accompanied by one orderly. Without waiting for me to carry out my little strategy, or in fact consulting me at all, he at once ordered a charge. "Go in, brave boys." "Go in, brave boys." We, of course, drove the Johnnies from their rail barricade with the most perfect safety, as they put in all the time we were "double quicking" across the field, shooting at "Old Tommy;" fortunately the old general was in such a state of spiritual exhilaration that he was in no danger of getting hurt. That night we drove the last rebel across the Chattahoochee river, and went into camp for several days.

We had been on the campaign sixty-three days. The enemy had been flanked out of four very strong positions, but nothing like a general engagement had been fought, nothing like a decisive battle had been won. Owing to the fact that where battles had been fought the enemy fought behind his works, on very advantageous ground, our losses must have been very much more severe than his. Our base of supplies was every day growing farther away, and our line of communications therewith requiring more men to guard. With the exception of the fact that we had run over some rebel territory, that we left in a condition to feed no more rebels, what had we gained.

The enemy during all these long weeks had been commanded by General Joseph E. Johnston. Of all the defensive officers, developed by the war on either side, I do not believe General Joseph E. Johnston had an equal. In the face of a vastly superior army, he had held four positions, fought many battles, and finally crossed the Chattahoochee river, and General Sherman had not been able to force him into a decisive engagement.

In all this defensive retreat General Johnston had not lost property to the value of a cracker box. While the country we had so far advanced over had been most favorable to a defensive campaign, nevertheless, I doubt if the history of the world can furnish another example of so well executed defensive work, as that conducted by General Joseph E. Johnston, from Ringgold to the Chattahoochee river. But fortunately for the right treason is not always associated with great ability. If the civil administration of the confederacy had been conducted as ably as the military, with all of its mistakes and blunders, the outcome would have been a matter of grave doubt. But fortunately for the Union and the cause of humanity, Mr. Jefferson Davis, the president of the confederacy, had not the ability to appreciate the services of one so able as the general that had so successfully opposed General Sherman on the Atlanta campaign. Generals Johnston and Sherman were both educated at our military academy at West Point, and were classmates. Each knew the other very well; and it was the plan of General Johnston, knowing the impetuosity of General Sherman, to destroy the union army by suffering it to continually give him battle behind his impregnable works, and from which continual mistakes General Sherman's able lieutenants had saved him (to which I have referred heretofore). General Johnston well knew, from the start, that he could not cope with the union army in an open field engagement, and he had planned to have so reduced Sherman's army, by the time he had reached and crossed the Chattahoochee river, that the two armies would be on something like equal terms as to men, and a more aggressive mode of warfare on the part of the rebel forces would give better promise of success. But after the confederate army had crossed the Chattahoochee river, the civil authorities at Richmond became alarmed. The president of the confederacy being the inspiration of the dissatisfaction that existed against General Sherman's heroic opponent, General Johnston was removed and General Hood placed in command of the rebel forces, and the sequel will show with what success. Had General Johnston been supported by the civil authorities at Richmond, as the good (or bad rather) of the confederate cause demanded, in my humble judgment, the music and sentiment of "Marching through Georgia," that so much amused the grand old general in his declining years, would never have been written. But I must stop this generalizing and return to the details of my narrative.

July 10th, 1864, again found us on the march to the left, and we moved in that direction about seven miles to near the headquarters of the 23d Corps, and on the twelfth, again struck tents, and moved down to the river, crossing the same on a canvas-boat pontoon bridge, and went into camp much nearer Atlanta than ever before. The next day we were again on the move, but only made a short distance and went into camp, and remained in camp until the seventeenth, when our brigade went to the river above, drove the Johnnies away, and saw one of General Sherman's pontoon companies put a bridge across the Chattahoochee river in just one hour and a quarter, and the 14th Army Corps commenced crossing. The next day we broke camp and started in the direction of Atlanta, General Newton's division taking the lead. We found nothing but skirmishers before us, who seemed entirely willing to fall back as fast as we came on. The next day, the nineteenth, we moved up to Peach Tree creek, and we found that a different commander was in charge of the rebels, for they attacked the 20th Corps with great spirit. But it did not seem to take the heroes of Lookout mountain long in an open field fight to do the Johnnies, as they seemed to be very glad to get away from them. This battle of Peach Tree creek was the first of Hood's battles, and in this he was very badly punished. Our regiment was not engaged more than in heavy skirmishing, but our captain, Sherburn B. Eaton, was badly, and in fact very dangerously, wounded. He was serving on staff duty at division headquarters at the time. The captain recovered from his wound, but not sufficiently to permit of his returning to the service. Captain Eaton was our first adjutant, and was as prompt an one as ever read orders on dress parade. He was a very scholarly gentleman, and from him we learned much; and if I remember correctly he learned some things from us. Some of us country boys, on the start, thought our adjutant a little stylish; but we found him brave in action, and that, like charity, covers a multitude of other seeming defects in a soldier.

General Sam. Beatty's brigade of our division captured a large number of men, and among them a number of officers. Though the burden of the battle of Peach Tree creek fell on Hooker's Corps, many other organizations bore quite important parts in the same. On the whole, we were all highly pleased with the change in the rebel commanders, and hoped he would keep up his present tactics. This open-field-battle business was just what we wanted, and had been praying for all summer, and only hoped Corporal Hood would indulge in them to excess.

On the twentieth of July we marched to the left, our division supporting the first division to within three miles of Decatur, and within four miles of Atlanta. Very heavy skirmishing in front, and McPherson reported within two miles of Atlanta. Hood charged Newton's division and Hooker's Corps, and was repulsed with great loss.

The twenty-first we broke camp very early, moved to the right, crossed the Peach Tree creek, moved to the front, and put up good works.

Early the morning of the twenty-second Hardee's Corps moved back to the east of Decatur, and struck McPherson's Corps on the left flank and rear, completely turning the same. The gallant general was killed at the front where he was trying to rearrange his line of battle, exposing himself to the enemy's sharpshooters. We all felt that all the brave general could have accomplished by his exposure was very poor recompense for the grand life thus sacrificed. Everything seemed to promise victory for the rebels until they had swept our line as far as the 15th Corps, when they found that Logan had changed his front to rear, and instead of there being anything like panic or confusion, they were met by a charge, led in person by that gallant general, that sent them whirling back to the place from which they started, leaving Logan in possession of the field. We were moved over to the left to the support of the 15th Corps, but were not put into the action; and I think could not have been without being mounted, such was the fury of Logan's charge. This was the third of Corporal Hood's battles before Atlanta, each one of which had resulted in defeat and great disaster. But our loss was terribly severe, as we lost one of our best corps commanders, which cast a gloom over the entire army. General James McPherson was not only loved by the army of the Tennessee, but was admired by all the men and officers that were so fortunate as to have formed his acquaintance.

The twenty-second we advanced our lines nearer the city and threw up very heavy intrenchments, and the next day strengthened them and put up a line of abatis in front. Our batteries spent their time in throwing shells into the city. I should say our skirmish line was out a mile from the ridge occupied by our works. We remained in this position for a number of days, and on the twenty-seventh moved out and marched around a hill to the left, seemingly a thousand and one times, to make the rebels believe we were moving to the left; but I guess we did not fool them much, as I never saw that anything ever came out of our demonstration.

On this position, at the left of our regiment and company, there was a battery of ten pound Rodman guns posted. These guns were rifled and were capable of throwing a shell five miles, they made us believe at least, and they spent their time throwing shells into Atlanta. Once every five minutes they dropped a shell into the city, which must have rendered it a very unpleasant place for a summer resort. The strangest thing about this whole business is, that we could lie down and go to sleep "in our little beds," and not hear those five minute guns once all night long. Such is the power of habit.

At this position we received news that Sergeant Japhet Sooy had died at Chattanooga the sixteenth of July. Sergeant Sooy was one of the best of soldiers, and his great mirthfulness not only made him a great favorite with his own company, but with the entire regiment. All knew him to be brave and kind, as well as faithful and obedient. We also received word that Timothy Powers was buried at Chattanooga the twenty-eighth of July.

The news of these sad losses caused us to reflect on the condition of Company B that left Cleveland, Ohio, with one hundred strong and able-bodied men. Now twenty-five of them were under the ground, filling honorable, but many of them unknown, graves. I have not the record now before me, but I am certain that the other nine companies of this fighting regiment suffered equally as severe losses.

On the third of August the skirmish line in the front of our brigade left their pits, drove the rebel skirmish line back, and captured thirty of the Johnnies; and so persistently did our fellows hold the advanced position by them taken, that the rebels had to bring up a line of battle before they could restore their skirmish line. In this affair our regiment did not lose a man. This little action came about by our general officers thinking there were no rebels but a skirmish line in our front, and there was nothing to hinder us from going to Atlanta; but they soon found out there were plenty of those selfsame rebels between our line and the city we sought. We remained in this position a long time, doing more camp than field duty. General Sherman brought up a number of heavy siege guns from the rear and planted them to our right, and threw one hundred pounds of iron into the city at every discharge. What good this bombardment did I cannot now tell, save the destruction of a rebel city, which I have now come to regard as the right thing to do under the circumstances, and should have been commenced sooner. Somehow rebel cities seemed to suffer wherever General Sherman went, for which I entertain for his memory the profoundest respect.

While at Atlanta we lost the 9th Ind. from our brigade. Colonel Campbell had orders to report to Indianapolis for muster-out. We were sorry to part with the 9th as they were in every respect a first-class regiment, and could be always depended upon to take care of their part of the line. But they were now going home, after serving since 1861, having done their full share of service for their country.

August 26th, at about eight o'clock a. m., we commenced the movement to the right. This was the most terribly hot weather we had encountered; we marched not over eight miles, but more than half of our regiment fell out, completely overcome by the intense heat. That night our regiment was ordered on the skirmish line. The next day the regiment was ordered to move to the right, and marched about four miles. The next day the 14th Corps and its train passed us, and the general tendency of the army seemed to be to the right. The next day we struck what we called the Montgomery railroad. We destroyed about a mile of it pretty effectually. We turned the road over, built large fires, put in the rails, heated them hot, and then twisted them around trees and stumps. I have since thought of what sort of language the section-boss used, when he was sent to repair that track. I wonder if what we did that day made the confessional more expensive for him.

August 30th we moved out early, to a position near where we had been wrecking railroad; then marched in a southeasterly course to within four miles of the Macon railroad, as we called it at the time. We were offered very little resistance from the enemy, and this day we marched about ten miles. We were making the grand flank movement around Atlanta, so famous in history. On the last day of August we moved out from camp to a position on a ridge, and commenced putting up works. Plenty of enemy in our front. About eleven o'clock a. m. the rebels left their works, and we immediately started in pursuit. The 1st division took some prisoners. We struck the Macon railroad about four o'clock p. m. We saw a train pass over the road just as we came up. We selected a position and fortified it, and a detail destroyed the track. The next morning, our brigade being in the rear, we moved out late and marched down the railroad toward Jonesborough. Heavy cannonading at the front, and we learned that the regular brigade had made an assault on the enemy's position and had been repulsed; but we were also informed that General Mitchell's brigade had renewed the assault, drove the rebels from their works, captured a six gun battery and two thousand prisoners.

On the second day of September, 1864, we moved out early, marched through Jonesborough, and found the enemy in position about three miles south of town on the railroad. We formed in line of battle, and made an attack on both his flanks, but failed, for some reason, to pass beyond them. Here we learned that Atlanta had fallen and was in our possession, and the rejoicing along our line was immense. The news was soon confirmed by a circular from division headquarters, stating that the rebels had blown up two of their trains of ammunition and seven siege guns. This accounted for the noise, that sounded more like an explosion than a battle, that we had heard the night before. For some reason entirely unknown to your humble servant, General Sherman did not desire to pursue Corporal Hood any further south, and our line of battle was withdrawn. So Atlanta had fallen after a campaign of one hundred and twenty-two days. The distance from Chattanooga to Atlanta by the railroad is one hundred and thirty-eight miles, but we had marched, undoubtedly, more than that distance by a great many miles, in the flank movements we had made.

On the eighth day of September, 1864, we marched into and through the "gate city of the south." We put on all the style of which our dirty and ragged condition would permit, forming our regiments in column by company, with our bands playing and colors flying. We marched down Marietta street, and the few citizens we saw did not lay themselves out to give us a cordial welcome. This street was the nearest ruins of anything west of the Atlantic. We saw one large sign that I suppose the visitor could hardly find in the new Atlanta. It extended the entire front of a block and read: "Slaves At Auction." We marched three miles east of town and went into camp, and the Atlanta campaign was ended.

I have tried to give you, though very imperfectly, my recollections of this, the greatest campaign ever made on the western continent. To the general hearer it would have been more interesting, without doubt, to have given the outlines of the campaign, omitting the details of each day's movements with their dates; but as many of that old fighting regiment (of which I had the honor of being a member) are still alive, I thought it my duty to place upon record a detailed account of their sufferings and triumphs. General Sherman had, indeed, broken the shell of the confederacy; but I must say (and I think my comrades will agree with me) it was, by all odds, the toughest shell we ever helped to crack.

For more than one hundred days, of the one hundred and twenty-two days of the Atlanta campaign, we had been under fire. The graves of our dear dead comrades are scattered thickly from Dalton to Jonesborough.

The red earth of our intrenchments marks the hillsides and beautiful mountains of northern and central Georgia.

The campaign was the severest blow the rebellion had received up to that time, and from Atlanta, General Sherman commenced his grand march to the sea.