With the Orphan Brigade at Chickamauga
Twenty years after the Battle of Chickamauga, Captain John H. Weller of the 4th Kentucky Infantry could still see the determination in the eyes of General John Breckinridge as his beloved Orphan Brigade penetrated behind the Federal lines on the morning of Sunday September 20th. The Kentuckians were in a heap of trouble but didn’t know it; they had overrun their support and now Federal reinforcements were bearing down on the single depleted regiment.
“He sat erect
on his horse, his whole body seeming to indicate attention to the business on
hand,” Captain Weller wrote. “His quick mind soon comprehended the situation
and he spoke his words of command in a natural tone of voice. We discovered we
were alone in our advanced position with no knowledge of our gallant 2nd
and 9th. Before we could charge the rear which we had unconsciously gained,
the enemy had received heavy reinforcements and thrown a strong column
perpendicularly to his line of battle.”
Writing under the penname of Fred. Joyce, Captain Weller’s detailed account of Chickamauga gets vague just about the time that the Weller was struck down by the explosion of a Federal artillery shell near his head. The wartime injury troubled the Kentuckian for the rest of his life and is thought to have led to his death at the age of 70 in 1912. Weller’s account first saw publication in the September 1884 edition of Southern Bivouac magazine.
About the 16th
of September 1863 found us encamped on a ridge in the neighborhood of
Lafayette, Georgia. We had passed a very disagreeable summer in Mississippi,
living on the slenderest rations, and drinking wretched water. Besides, the hot
climate and our bivouac in the sand told fearfully on us. It was a treat for us
to rest awhile in the grand mountains of Georgia. Our commissary was not overstocked
and we continued to arise from our meals hungry, go on guard hungry, go to bed
hungry, and our minds would revert toward breakfast as soon as our eyes opened
on the rocks and the pine. I remember how we raised the sorghum patch in the
valley below and spent hours chewing the pith of the delicious cane. But the
water was good and time fails me to tell of the way we appreciated it. How we
congregated around the grand old springs and drank water and talked about
Kentucky!
Well by a few
movements we were brought on the morning of the 19th of September in
the rear of “Hup” Graves’ artillery, or rather Cobb’s Battery of his command,
for Major Graves was our division chief of artillery. Our brigade commander
very innocently remarked in his report of the affair that “a shot from the battery
into a house about 500 yards off where the enemy’s skirmishers were concealed
excited an immediate response.” That is literally correct, but the subject will
admit of a great adjective. We had to lay down flat and spread out like Cuban
adders on the ground and then we were far from safe.
Shells cut the
young trees and limbs from the larger one, and they fell promiscuously over and
around us. These terrible missiles would also plough the ground and burst in
our midst, making sad havoc: 14 of our brigade were killed here before we
received orders to recross the river on the Chattanooga road. In the evening we
were ordered to the right at the double-quick. We had several miles to go and
the march was severe.
Major Charles
W. Helm, our brigade acting commissary of subsistence, had determined to go
into one fight at least and had selected this one. He was active on the staff
of our brigadier general and was extremely active riding up and down the column
on the rapid march. He was brim full of wit and humor and relished everything
that had a tendency that way. Owing to his cheerful disposition, he was
exceedingly popular with the soldiers and his appearance on this occasion
served to lighten the burden of the painful journey. He appears to me as the
most prominent figure in that rapid march from the left to the right, for I saw
him oftener that the other mounted officers. His visited our company often to
exchange witticisms with Devil Dick and Wild Bill.
Major General John Cabell Breckinridge |
After crossing
the Chickamauga at Alexander’s Brigade, we proceeded to seek our resting
ground, finding it in an old field about 10 o’clock at night where, enveloped
in the settling smoke of the first day’s fight, we laid down to doubtful
dreams. We were up betimes the morning of the 20th and marched forward
to the woods in front to await orders and our breakfast which was in charge of
a cooking detail. When broad daylight had arrived, we were moved forward again
in the direction of the Chattanooga road and were halted on the spot where the
day previous General Cleburne had so valiantly fought the enemy and driven him
a short distance. Suffering as we were from hunger and insufficient rest the
horrors of the scene provoked all the emotions incident to war.
But we were
not allowed to contemplate this scene for any length of time. General
Breckinridge once more pushed ahead and formed a junction with Pat Cleburne who
was on our left. We passed General Ben Hill and his adjutant eating their
rations under an immense tree. He commanded a brigade of Tennesseans and his
adjutant was Captain Will F. Miller of Louisville. A great many of us knew both
of these officers and on this occasion, we earnestly plied them with questions
to which they responded with good cheer.
We were halted
near the edge of an opening in the woods and were detained there waiting for
our rations for quite a while. The sun was now fairly up and it seemed as if we
were to have an exceptionally beautiful day, even for Georgia, which is
celebrated for glorious autumn weather. Skirmishers were placed in front, our
breakfast arrived, and many of our brave lads took their last meal on earth.
General Breckinridge, whose presence was an inspiration, rode frequently along
the line. General Benjamin Hardin Helm was moving about quietly and infusing
courage into the eager command. It was a picture of “Just before the Battle” that
cannot be put on canvas. Helm’s brigade was about to commence the greatest
engagement of the war.
Brigadier General Benjamin Hardin Helm Killed in action September 20th 1863 President Lincoln's brother-in-law |
About half
past 9 o’clock, the 4th Kentucky was deployed in front of the
brigade and commanded by the fearless Nuckols, set about feeling for the enemy.
It was short work, for he gave the command forward and soon our Enfields rang
out lustily through the forest. The 4th lost severely in the charge,
but the enemy was developed and found behind breastworks covering part of the
brigade front. The command now moved forward and as soon as we felt the fire of
the enemy we charged and the second day’s battle began in earnest.
The 2nd
and 9th Kentucky regiments and a small portion of the 41st
Alabama struck their fortifications and suffered terrible slaughter. General Helm
was mortally wounded. Major Rice E. Graves, the great artillery chief, was also
mortally wounded, besides very many of our brave officers and men were shot
down during repeated attempts to storm the works. The 4th and 6th
Kentucky and 41st Alabama missed this dangerous place and struck two
lines of infantry. Such was the impetuosity of the charge that these lines were
almost literally run over. They were sent to the rear as fast as captured.
A battery
continued to hold out in our front but soon the command was given to take it.
We found that it was in the Chattanooga road and as soon as captured it was
turned on the routed enemy as they fled across an open field. At this juncture,
General Breckinridge rejoined us and I never shall forget his stately presence.
He sat erect on his horse, his whole body seeming to indicate attention to the
business on hand. His quick mind soon comprehended the situation and he spoke
his words of command in a natural tone of voice. We discovered we were alone in
our advanced position with no knowledge of our gallant 2nd and 9th.
Before we could charge the rear which we had unconsciously gained, the enemy had
received heavy reinforcements and thrown a strong column perpendicularly to his
line of battle. We were immediately ordered to rejoin the two regiments spoken
of which was accomplished.
The battle now
seemed to hang on this point which was so early developed by the 4th
and so stubbornly attacked by the 2nd and the 9th. Late
in the afternoon, General D.H. Hill’s corps made a sweeping charge and the
Kentuckians once more drove everything across the Chattanooga road and the
Federal army was in retreat to Chattanooga.
Source:
“Orphan Brigade at Chickamauga,” Southern Bivouac, Captain
John H. Weller, Co. D, 4th Kentucky Infantry, C.S.A., September
1884, pgs. 29-32
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