DOCUMENT: F.Y. HEDLEY

Marching Through Georgia is an account of Sherman's March"from the standpoint of soldiers in the ranks." F.Y. Hedley,a member of the 32nd Illinois Infantry, set out to describehow the ordinary soldier "lived, how he marched, and how hefought on skirmish line and in the line-of-battle. Its descriptionsand incidents are . . . peculiar to no one soldier, but commonto all, and any of the sixty thousand of 'Sherman's men' mightsay that his own history is contained in these pages." Thisview from the infantry lines, its reliance on "very completediary entries, made at the time," and simple prose set it apartfrom autobiographies that are more dramatic but less truthful.The extracts reprinted here recount the 32nd Infantry's departurefrom Atlanta, and include detail that is often quite revealing.The preparations soldiers made before setting out--sheddingtents and other heavy gear, throwing off extra clothing andbags--suggest how the march differed from other campaigns, inits speed and reliance on local sources of food and gear. Theimportance of the railroad to Civil War armies is made clearby the frantic carriage of supplies to the army, and the evacuationof wounded. Finally, Hedley's straightforward accounts of theburning of Atlanta and destruction of railroads speak volumesabout the everyday manner in which veterans learned to treatsuch violence. Chapter XXV. Stripping to the Buff. Events during the last week in October, and the first ten daysin November, 1864, were stirring enough. The railroad, whichhad been completely wrecked by the enemy, was repaired fromChattanooga to Atlanta, where the bulk of Sherman's army wasassembling. Every train going north was loaded to its utmostcapacity with the wounded and infirm; with surplus artillery,and, in fact, almost everything that the men could not carryupon their backs. Returning trains brought only the most neededarticles -- hard bread, pork, coffee, sugar, and ammunition.It was evident even to those in the ranks that some important,if not desperate, undertaking was at hand. The acuteness oftheir perception and correctness of conclusion were surprising.The destination of the army was either east, to attack Lee,or south, to the coast. This was settling the matter almostas definitely as the General himself could, for he has said,since the war closed, that at the time he had two or three alternativescontinually in mind. The army was now thoroughly reorganized for a new campaign.The Fourth Corps and Twenty-third Corps had been sent northwardto assist General Thomas in disposing of Hood. General Sherman'simmediate army now consisted of four corps, viz.: Fifteenth,temporarily commanded by General Osterhaus; Seventeenth, GeneralFrank P. Blair; Fourteenth, General Jeff C. Davis; Twentieth,General A. S. Williams. General Dodge having gone North on accountof wounds, the Sixteenth Corps was broken up, its two divisionsbeing assigned to the Fifteenth and Seventeenth Corps. The armywas divided into two wings, the right wing, commanded by GeneralHoward, and the left wing commanded by General Slocum. The infantrynumbered fifty-two thousand. In addition, there was a cavalryforce of five thousand men under General Kilpatrick, and aboutfifty pieces of artillery. The grand total was a trifle undersixty thousand men. While the work of reorganization was going on, the paymasterswere busy with their task. There were many months' arrearagesdue the troops, the unusual activity of the campaign preventingdisbursements at the regular intervals of two months. Paymentmight as well have been postponed, for the army had little usefor money. There were no merchants in the vicinity, and therapid movements of the army had made the war-risk of the sutlerso hazardous that he had retired from business many months before. The most exciting incident of the day was the presidentialelection. Most of the States sent to the army sworn commissionersto receive the ballots of those soldiers who would have beenentitled to vote if at home. The Illinois troops, however, weredebarred this privilege, an anti-war legislature of their Statehaving refused to make the necessary provision. . . . The Illinoisregiments, however, appointed judges, and took informal votes,merely by way of expressing their sentiments. In the 32d Regiment,the vote was recorded as two hundred and six for Lincoln, andfifty-eight for McClellan. The McClellan vote in this instancewas unusually large, as compared with that in neighboring regiments;and the Iowa troops, who were almost unanimously Lincoln men,viewed the result with considerable contempt. In this canvassthroughout the army, there was no political feeling, in theordinary sense of the word. Very many of the soldiers who votedfor Lincoln were known to be Democrats; but they recognizedthe fact that his relection meant an earnest prosecutionof the war, while there was no assurance of good results comingout of the so-called "peace policy." The same day, November 8th, General Sherman sent out Special Field Order No. 119. . . . Accompanying this was Special Field Order, No. 120, containing directions for the march. Many of the troops neither saw nor heard of these orders untilafter the march had actually commenced; many more did not hearof them at all, in an official way. Army operations did notadmit of the performance of the clerical work necessary to furnishso many copies of these papers as were needed; or, of holdingdress-parades, which offered the only opportunity for promulgatingorders meant for the mass of the army. Chapter XXVI. The Last Link is Broken. November 8th was an eventful day. Lincoln had been elected President,the paymaster had made the grand rounds, and orders had beenissued for beginning another campaign. A veteran regiment occupied the old railroad eating-house knownas "Big Shanty," a short distance from the base of Kenesaw Mountain.The building was enclosed by a stout stockade, pierced for musketry.Vivid recollections of scenes at this and similar posts willcome back to many old comrades--evenings of sport, followedby midnight alarms which called them out to meet real or imaginedfoes. That night, a merry party of soldiers gathered in an upperroom of the "Shanty," which served as the adjutant's office.He shared his quarters with the post telegraph operator, whoseinstruments were on an improvised table. Outside, a severe stormraged, the rain descending in torrents; within, the fun grewfast and furious. The boys--there is no such fitting word toname those dear old comrades of years ago--were indulging inthe amusement of a "stag-dance," and when the word came to "swingpartners," the "gentleman" grasped the fingers of the one witha piece of cloth tied about his arm, to designate him as a "lady."The figures of the dance were accompanied with the melancholythrumming of an old banjo in the hands of colored "Jerry," themess-cook, who had unceremoniously left his master to enterupon a life of freedom. . . . While the sport was at its height, the telegraph operator calleda halt, and handed to the adjutant the following dispatch whichhe had just received: Commanding Officers of all Posts: This is the rain I have been awaiting so long. As soon as it is over, we'll be off. W. T. SHERMAN. The orders for the great march . . . had not reached the merry-makersat Big Shanty, whose regiment was temporarily detached fromits brigade. Yet the message was readily understood. Hood wasso far north that it would be impossible for him to return.There were many large and greatly-swollen rivers between himand Sherman, and his pontoon-train was known to be well-nighuseless. Besides, any movement he might make southward, wouldbring Thomas' hardy veterans close upon his heels. He couldno longer disturb this army, and Sherman need only care forwhat new enemy he might find in his front, and on his flanks. During the next three days, the railroad was pushed to itsutmost capacity, trains bringing in supplies from the North,and returning loaded with surplus artillery, sick and wounded.Late in the evening of November 12th, the last train bound Northrolled past Big Shanty. It would have been a windfall for theenemy. It carried many officers who had resigned, and soldierswhose terms of service had expired. Large sums of money werecommitted to them by their comrades, for delivery to familiesor friends at home. One, a surgeon, had not less than twelvethousand dollars in his valise, enclosed in ordinary envelopesendorsed with the amount and the name of the person for whomit was intended. Fortunately, no accident befell the train;but it was more than two months before this was known to themen who trusted so much to uncertain fate. The passing by of this train awoke strange sensations. Heartycheers and "God bless you" came from scores of the homewardbound; as hearty cheers and fervent "Good-byes" from those leftbehind. But the brave works of both belied their hearts. The formergave an encouragement which was tinged with a feeling of dread;the latter felt an anxiety their shouts did not reveal. Thedeparting train was the sundering of the last link connectingthem with country and home. They were about to march out intoa great unknown. It was as a voyage upon untried waters, beyondwhich might lie no shore. They knew not what course they wereto pursue, what dangers they were to meet, what enemies wereto oppose them. They expected battle, but what its issue wouldbe, none could foretell. Those who might fall would leave theirbones in a strange and unfriendly land forever. Then thoughtrecurred to wife, mother, sister or sweetheart at home. Whatwould be their fearful anxieties? A half-hour after the train was out of sight, the various troopsalong the road were set to work destroying the railroad, andby midnight a glare of light reaching from Atlanta as far northwardas the eye could reach, revealed the thoroughness of their work.A regiment would scatter along one side of the road, each manpicking up the end of a tie, then at the word of command, allwould throw the ties end over end, the fall breaking the railsloose. Then ties and telegraph poles were piled up and fired,and the rails thrown across them. The latter were soon red-hotin the middle, and the men would pick them up and wrap themaround trees, or twist them with cant-hooks into a corkscrewpattern which it was impossible to straighten. In many instancesa dozen iron rails were twisted around a tree or a telegraph-pole.The men worked with a will, seeming to take a savage delightin destroying everything that could by any possibility be madeuse of by their enemies. They attained great proficiency inthese methods; and after this fashion they absolutely destroyedthree-fourths of the railroad between Chattanooga and Atlantabefore beginning the great march; and, afterward, every mileof track they encountered from Atlanta to Savannah. These were the scenes transpiring as far north as Sherman'sarmy extended. Each detachment, immediately upon accomplishingthe work in its own vicinity, marched rapidly toward Atlanta.On the night of the 14th, the troops occupying Big Shanty setthe torch to building and stockade, and followed the remainderof the army. There was now not a federal soldier between Atlantaand Chattanooga, and the hills and plains, which had latelyechoed the fearful din of artillery and musketry, and had beenalive with masses of fiercely contending human beings, wereas still and desolate as if a demon of destruction had passedover. But there were monuments testifying to the fearful struggle--treesriven by cannon shot, and broken-down caissons. Here, there,and everywhere, were graves of those who wore the blue and thosewho wore the gray, each surmounted by a board upon which wererudely cut by knives of comrades, the name, company and regimentof him who lay beneath. But amid all the graves, not a singleepitaph! There was no time for sentiment, and death's work hadno novelty here. On the night of November 15th, the torch was applied to therailroad shops, foundries, and every one of the many buildingsthat had been used in fitting out the armies of the enemy inthis vast "workshop of the confederacy," as Atlanta was called.The flames spread rapidly, and when morning came, it is doubtfulwhether there were a score of buildings remaining in the city,except in the very outskirts. Sherman had determined to renderthe place utterly incapable of any more service to the enemy,and with this end in view all the inhabitants had been removedweeks before. The Twentieth Corps, which had garrisoned Atlanta while theremainder of the army was pursuing Hood northward, were thelast to leave the city, and as they marched out, the fine silverband of the 33rd Massachusetts--who that ever heard it, willever cease to remember its glorious harmonies?--played "JohnBrown." The men took up the words wedded to the music, and,high above the roaring flames, above the crash of falling walls,above the fierce crackling of thousands of small arm cartridgesin the burning buildings, rose the triumphant refrain, "Histruth is marching on!" For picturesqueness and suggestiveness, the scene was one never to be forgotten. Chapter XXVII. On the March. The army was now fairly out of Atlanta and on its way to thesea. It was a remarkable body of men, the like of which theworld never saw before, and may never see again. Sixty thousand in round numbers--it was an army of veterans,who had served an apprenticeship of more than three years attheir profession, and learned nearly all that was worth knowing,at least far more than their generals knew three years before.Their brilliant achievements had already gone into history,furnishing themes for poet and scenes for painter. Their calendarcontained scarcely a day that did not commemorate some moreor less important battle, skirmish, or march. Each regimenthad been reduced by the casualties of constant service to lessthan one-third its numerical strength at the outset. He wasa fortunate colonel who had three hundred men remaining outof the round thousand he enlisted at home; thirty men made farmore than an average company; there were many which musteredless than a score. A brigade did not parade a longer line thandid one of its regiments when it went into service. This army of veterans was also an army of boys. The old menand the big men had been very generally worn out and sent homeor to the hospital. It was the "little devils" (as Sherman oncecalled them in the hearing of the writer) who remained, andcould always be depended upon to carry their load, march allday, and be ready for a frolic when they went into bivouac atnight. Very many of them, notwithstanding three years of soldiering,were not old enough to vote. Many a regimental commander wasnot thirty years of age; and the majority of line and staffofficers lacked a great deal of this advanced age. But theyhad been in the service from the beginning, and what they didnot know about campaigning was not worth inquiring into. Eachsoldier was practically a picked man. Such had been the ratioof casualties that he may be said to have been the sole survivorof four men who had set out from Cairo in 1861; all buthe having succumbed to disease or death. . . . This army, which had been marching light from Chattanooga toAtlanta, was now simply reduced to what it had on, and thatwas not much. . . . What few tents had been smuggled as farsouth as Atlanta were now entirely discarded, and only a few"flies" for the various headquarters, and one to each regimentto shelter the field-desks of the adjutant and quartermaster,were retained. A little furniture was supposed to be necessaryto the last named officers, but they generally reduced thisin about the same proportion as everything else. The greaterpart of their "office" was carried in breast-pocket and saddle-bags,making more room under the "fly" for comrades who would otherwisehave been entirely shelterless. The "fly" was a fair cover infine weather, when shelter was not needed; but, being open atboth ends, it was a sorry makeshift in a rain storm. Each soldierwas supposed to carry half of a shelter-tent, which, combinedwith the counterpart carried by a comrade, made reasonable protectionfor two, but many of the men regarded them with contempt. Theaverage soldier cared only for a blanket, and this he carriedin a roll, swung over his shoulder, the ends being tied together,meeting under the opposite arm. A majority of the men discardedknapsacks altogether; those who yet clung to them carried onlya shirt and a pair or two of socks. Each soldier had forty roundsof ammunition in his cartridge-box and one hundred and sixtymore elsewhere upon his person. His cooking utensils were atin oyster can, in which to make his coffee, and some timesone-half of a canteen to serve as a skillet, or frying-pan.His haversack contained a liberal amount of coffee, sugar andsalt, a very small fragment of salt pork, and three days' rationsof hard bread. This supply was habitually to last him ten days.It was expected that he would "skirmish 'round" and levy uponthe country for such food as would be a fair equivalent forthat large fraction of the army rations of which he was necessarilydeprived. . . . The soldier's outfit was not complete without a "deck" of cards,and these were carried in the pocket so as to be convenientat any halt on the road. Frequent thumbing had so worn thesetreasured pasteboards, that in many instances it was an absoluteimpossibility for one to tell what card he held, if so be hetook a hand with a party having a "deck" with which he was unacquainted.It is to be hoped the moralist will not grudge the "boys" theamusement they derived from the game. There were no newspapers,no circulating libraries, no Y.M.C.A., not even a tract in thatdesolate region. To sum up, no army ever marched with less impedimenta, andnone adapted itself so completely or cheerfully to its conditions. The army marched in four columns, the various corps pursuingparallel roads. These columns were sometimes five, sometimesfifteen miles apart. Their combined front was from forty tosixty miles, for by day the skirmishers and flankers of eachcorps spread out until they met those of the corps next to themon either side, so that if anything unusual happened in anyportion of the army, information was almost immediately givento the other commands. By night the positions of the variouscolumns could generally be distinguished from their fires. In front of each corps marched a regiment of cavalry or mountedinfantry. Frequently these troops, with the aid of the infantrybrigade at the head of the column, were able to brush asidethe enemy without much trouble, and without halting the maincolumn; and it was only when crossing a stream, where the passagewas contested, that anything like a general line of battle wasformed. Each brigade in the column took its turn in the advance,and likewise each regiment in the brigade. A cavalry brigadeunder the dashing Kilpatrick, with a few light guns, moved onthis flank or that, as the emergency required. The itinerary of the march of the Seventeenth Corps (whosemovements this narrative mainly follows) shows the distancetraveled between Atlanta and Savannah to have been two hundredand ninety-five miles. The crow's flight would make it muchshorter, but he would not make so many flank movements or circuitousroutes. The actual march consumed eighteen days. Nine days werespent in crossing streams where the passage was contested, orwaiting for supporting columns. The army reached the defensesin front of Savannah, December 10th, but did not gain an entranceto the city until nearly two weeks later. Source: F.Y. Hedley, Marching Through Georgia: Pen-Picturesof Every-Day Life in General Sherman's Army . . . (1884).