Into the Wilderness of Pines: Opening Day on the Left at Chickamauga

 After marching all night, the men of the 31st Ohio stacked arms near LaFayette Road on the morning of Saturday September 19, 1863 were a "sleepy, dusty bunch of boys" recalled Sergeant Samuel McNeil. "The boys were short of hardtack and judging by the appearance of their jaded horses, our 4th Michigan Battery must have been short of oats. General Thomas, erect and silent as ever, rode by. Perhaps our old hero was not so much to blame as the lamented Colonel Dan McCook for our going into the fight without the usual tin cup of coffee. Let that be as it may, there came the unwelcome order “Fall in!” As the regiment took arms we heard the first, but not the last, of the now historical Confederate brigade that Colonel McCook had found isolated on our side of the Chickamauga near Reed’s Bridge."

          Sergeant McNeil’s account of the September 19, 1863 fighting at Chickamauga first saw publication in the April 14, 1887 edition of the National Tribune.

 

 

Samuel McNeil recalled that his cartridge box felt very light by the time his regiment was pulled off the line after the first day's fighting at Chickamauga. A standard Federal cartridge box could hold 40 .58 caliber cartridges along with a few tools for the gun including a worm and pick. Soldiers often carried additional cartridges in their pants pocket. 

          The First Brigade of Brannan’s Division was composed of the 17th, 31st, and 38th Ohio regiments with the 82nd Indiana and was commanded by Colonel John M. Connell of the 17th Ohio. Lieutenant Colonel Durbin Ward was the commanding officer of the 18th Ohio, Lieutenant Colonel Frederick W. Lister commanded the 31st Ohio, Colonel Edward Phelps the 38th Ohio, and Colonel Morton C. Hunter commanded the 82nd Indian. Our first division commander was Pap Thomas and our first brigade commander was General Albin Schoepf.

          We did not realize that September night as we trudged wearily along that we were then making the master movement of Rosecrans’ campaign, viz. moving Thomas to the left toward Chattanooga to hold every road which Bragg’s right was about to seize. Nor did we know that Crittenden’s men were in line just to our right to protect this movement.

          Besides an education at West Point, which was considered necessary, it required military genius to move a mighty army across great rivers and over mountain ranges in the face of a vigilant foe. But to face the pitiless storm of bullet and shell that rained down upon the volunteer soldiers at Stones River, Chickamauga, and Peach Tree Creek required something that was never obtained at West Point and qualities which far outrank military genius. The battle of September 19, 1863 was unlike any other engagement in which I took part during the war. Divisions were taken from one corps and sent to another. Brigades were broken up by sending regiments hither and thither as the changes of battle developed the position and strength of the enemy.

          We were a dusty, sleepy set of boys as the brigade, filing to the right from the Lafayette Road, ascended a wooded knoll and stacked arms. The boys were short of hardtack and judging by the appearance of their jaded horses, our 4th Michigan Battery must have been short of oats. General Thomas, erect and silent as ever, rode by. Perhaps our old hero was not so much to blame as the lamented Colonel Dan McCook for our going into the fight without the usual tin cup of coffee. Let that be as it may, there came the unwelcome order “Fall in!” As the regiment took arms we heard the first, but not the last, of the now historical Confederate brigade that Colonel McCook had found isolated on our side of the Chickamauga near Reed’s Bridge.

The 31st Ohio while part of Colonel John Connell's brigade spent most of September 19th fighting in concert with Colonel John Croxton's brigade. Their primary regimental monument marks their September 20th position just west of the Lafayette Road and north of the Brotherton Farm. The monument to the left is for the 14th Ohio of Croxton's Brigade. (Author's photo)


          This bit of news which, strange to say, had reached us of the rank and file explained the commotion among the troops and quieted the inquisitive comrade who was forever asking somebody “Where do you suppose we’re going?” I think Vanderveer’s and Croxton’s brigades left us soon after the movements began. For an hour or more, Connell’s brigade marched and countermarched through the woods and across cleared spits and then halted to unsling knapsacks. While the brigade was marching towards all points of the compass, a familiar racket off to our rear told us that Croxton’s or Vanderveer’s boys had struck McCook’s “find.” Then we had the usual scene of staff officers and orderlies trying to run their horses to death.

          The boys looked anxiously at the pile of knapsacks as we moved away leaving our wardrobes forever. The 31st Ohio left the brigade and took a bee line through the woods right toward the wicked noise which had increased to a steady roll with an occasional thump, thump of artillery. The regiment went on and on into the depths of the wilderness of pines. We could smell burnt powder. The little birds seemed frightened as they flew among the branches above us. A deafening crash, followed by the familiar Rebel screech keyed away up on C# was the prelude to a double quick step that sent us forward at a lively gait. “Halt, front!” came in quick succession then “Right dress!” A soldier standing near the 8th corporal said, “If Cleburne’s whole division was blazing away at us, Colonel Lister would have dress parade. Then we were ordered to lie down. Just to our right was the 10th Kentucky of Croxton’s brigade. The two regiments seemed to be isolated rather than more than McCook’s Rebel brigade which Croxton had stirred up.

          As we lay waiting our first act in the tragedy which cost the Army of the Cumberland one-third of its fighting men, the writer took note of the blanched faces nearby, yet it did not occur to him that his own face was perhaps a trifle paler than those about him. Though I had served at the front for two years and been under fire many times, fidelity to truth compels me to say it required great effort to hold my own under the terrible strain brought to bear upon us for 20 minutes in that Georgia forest.

          At length there came into view of body of our troops in full retreat followed by an irregular line of Confederates shooting and shouting like fiends. The retreating troops. The retreating troops belonged to Starkweather’s old brigade, the very men who made a fighting record at Perryville the previous October. Among the last coming back was a color sergeant with his flag. After the usual interrogatory, “What regiment?” The brave fellow answered “With your permission I will carry my flag in this company.” Truly Sergeant Jordan was a hero. His grand example that day served as an inspiration to strengthen our hearts and hands for the work which followed.

The enemy had closed up their line. As the two regiments rose up they gave us a terrible volley at close range. With a western hurrah, the Buckeyes and the gallant boys of the 10th Kentucky sent those Johnnies back faster than they came. Our boys were wild in this charge. The Rebel line was driven back until our force retook the battery which was captured from the troops that had passed over us. The guns were in place and a number of dead and wounded soldiers were near them. Among the wounded was a fine-looking red-headed gunner. I do not remember seeing any live horses but saw several dead ones. A party of our boys hauled the guns away to the rear.

The late morning fighting between Reed's Bridge Road and Brotherton Road was a swirling murderous fist fight as is depicted above. The heavily wooded undulating ground provided concealment as units moved forward and back with lots of surprise flank attacks. (Hal Jespersen, www.cwmaps.com)


The line was reformed and again advancing drove the enemy back until we came to a strip of fallen timber, beyond which was a line of rifle pits that sheltered the Rebels. Here I wish to say that in all the reports of the fighting on Saturday I have seen no mention of Confederate rifle pits. The two regiments with ranks fearfully depleted by the first volley and the running fight through the forest, took position along the abatis of logs and brush, and kept up a brisk fire at the gray hats popping up just beyond their rifle pits until “we are flanked” was passed along the line. The right and left of our line seemed to be changing front to meet an attack. There was but one thing to do- retreat. This was done without confusion, the boys loading and firing with as much vim as when advancing. As our old adversaries jumped their works and marched over the mass of stumps and logs in a very good line, a strange-looking flag came into view. It was a deep-red square with a black ax stamped or painted diagonally across the square.

          About the time the Rebel line entered the wood an incident occurred which left its impress upon my memory. While walking and at the same time trying to load, I came almost in front of a comrade named Dew from Co. A of the 31st. He was calmly aiming at the Rebel line when a ball struck him; he fell heavily, and apparently died without a struggle. For an instant I was demoralized and could hardly resist the impulse to drop my Springfield and run. Several times that day I had heard the same wicked thud, but there was something in this instance that terrified me. More than 20 years have passed, yet that scene oft comes up unbidden; the sickening sound of the musket ball will follow me through life.

General George H. Thomas
"Old Pap"

          Our line was not on the defensive, however, there was no line; it was go-as-you-please fight. The boys would aim from the friendly cover of pines till the men of gray seemed to want the other side of the same trees; then our force would take another position and repeat the same tactics which are not, by the way, found in Hardee or Casey. Red tape was at a discount. Cartridges and staying qualities were in good demand. I believe the boys realized the importance of delaying that line of Rebels until a noble gray-haired General, who was looking after Rosecrans’ left, could send in a fresh brigade or two. That was just what he was doing. Though the commissary, quartermaster, paymaster, and the entire War Department neglected us at times, the boys never lost faith in grand old Pap Thomas.

          One-third of our number had done down killed and wounded and, the saddest of all, we were leaving our dead to the mercy of a bitter enemy. The boys who left home with the rest of us in ’61 and kept step through all the weary marches and battles for two years- some of them had shared their rations with us- now we had to abandon them on the battlefield. Rosecrans never felt the bitterness of defeat more keenly than did the rank and file of the 31st Ohio as we sullenly withdrew from one position to another. I can give no estimate of the time we were under fire, nor of the distance traveled, but 23 years has not dimmed my recollection that our cartridge boxes did not pull down very heavy when the grandest-looking line of soldiers we ever met opened ranks and we passed through to the rear.


Source:

“At Chickamauga: Fighting and Maneuvering on the First Day,” Sergeant Samuel A. McNeil, Co. F, 31st Ohio Volunteer Infantry, National Tribune, April 14, 1887, pg. 1

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