Marching to Georgia Southern Style

After a 430-mile, 24-day march from Tupelo, Mississippi to Chattanooga, Tennessee in the summer of 1862, Mississippi artillerist Benjamin W.L. “Leigh” Butt waxed eloquently on the beauty of the southern landscapes through which he passed. But Chattanooga and specifically Lookout Mountain topped them all.

          “Here the scenery which presented itself to view was magnificent and sublime,” he wrote after climbing to the summit. “We were seated apparently in the center of an enormous circle rimmed with ranges of lofty hills, rising one above another until they blend with the distant horizon. Down below us was the scattered town of Chattanooga and at our feet flowed the Tennessee, making its way through the far-off mountains like the windings of a gigantic, glistening serpent.”

The Mississippian appreciated Chattanooga’s historic importance. “In after days, this spot and its vicinity will be visited as classic ground. Already these mountains have re-echoed the booming of hostile cannon. The Yankees some weeks since unceremoniously bombarded Chattanooga, frightening the old ladies and children almost out of their wits,” he stated. “Our army is now on the move and soon you may expect to hear of grand events in this part of Tennessee. Everything now bids fair for our success and by the aid of a just and righteous God we expect soon to put an end to Yankee dominion in this fair portion of Dixie’s land.” He was right; within days, General Braxton Bragg would set his army in motion destined for the bluegrass region of Kentucky. The western Confederacy was taking the war to the North.

          Corporal Butt’s letter describing the overland march of Bragg’s artillery batteries and wagon trains first saw publication in the August 26, 1862, edition of the Memphis Daily Appeal. The newspaper was then being published from Grenada, Mississippi as the Federal occupation of Memphis in June 1862 forced editors John R. McClanahan and Benjamin F. Dill out of town.

 

This Confederate artilleryman wears a secession badge upon his chest. Confederate jackets often used the traditional U.S. Army branch of service colors on the collar: red for artillery, yellow for cavalry, and blue for infantry. (Liljenquist Collection)

Chattanooga, Tennessee

August 18, 1862

          The artillery of our division (Cheatham’s) has just completed its long march from Tupelo to this place, the last of the trains arriving here on the 16th instant. In the course of 24 days, we traveled 430 miles. Our horses held out much better than we expected as we lost but few on the road. Though the head and dust were often intense and oppressive, and the journey toilsome, yet the boys have had fine health and high spirits and today the health of Stanford’s battery is better than it has been since its members bade adieu to their peaceful homes.

          There were three other batteries of our division along with us, the remaining one having been sent around by rail. The presence of dozens of cannons with their caissons and the wagons of multiple brigades made a long train, one well calculated to make an impression upon the honest country people along the route. At every house along the road where our approach had been heralded, flocks of old folks, children, and maidens were assembled to wonder and admire and the invariable question to this in front was “Mister, how far is the artillery behind?”

While Braxton Bragg sent his infantry via railroads to Chattanooga, his wagon train and artillery batteries had to hoof it. It proved to be a 430-mile march that took 24 days to complete. Once the train reached Rome, Georgia, they turned north and proceeded by rail into Chattanooga, all of them arriving by August 16, 1862. By that time, General Edmund Kirby Smith had already started on his march into Kentucky and Bragg would soon follow with the bulk of his Army of Mississippi.  


          In our march we passed through Aberdeen and Columbus, Mississippi, Tuscaloosa, Montevallo, Shelby Springs, Talladega, and Jacksonville in Alabama, Cave Springs and Rome in Georgia. From the latter place we proceeded direct to Chattanooga so your readers can have some idea from the above of the roundabout way we came to this place.

          The country through which we passed, after leaving the prairies of Mississippi, was very poor, mostly covered with rocks and very hilly, and the crops were generally light, being even shorter than common in consequence of the extreme drouth. But a better watered country I have never seen. Cool wells and springs and brooks of crystal clearness were abundant. Many of these springs are nothing less than bold creeks bursting forth from the rocky hillsides. Cave Spring, Georgia was one of the most delightful places along our route. It derives its name from a large cave near it containing a magnificent spring of icy coldness. This cave, like many others in the vicinity, affords large quantities of saltpeter, and the works near it are already turning out from 75-100 pounds per diem. We passed many factories showing that our people are alive to the great work before them and that the immense resources of our own sunny South are being rapidly developed.

          But let me not forget to mention the invariable kindness and hospitality of the good citizens along the way. We had plenty of fruit, milk, honey, vegetables, chickens, etc. either given to us or sold at reasonable rates. At nearly every place we camped, we were visited by the citizens, especially the ladies. The boys were frequently invited to dinner or supper and in one or two instances a public dinner was given to all the soldiers present. All these things were calculated to make us hopeful, cheerful, and more than ever determined to fight to the bitter end for a people characterized by such patriotic devotion to the cause of freedom and independence.

"At every place we camped, we were visited by the citizens, especially the ladies," Leigh remembered. "All these things were calculated to make us hopeful, cheerful, and more than ever determined to fight to the bitter end for a people characterized by such patriotic devotion to the cause of freedom and independence." 

          On the day after our arrival in Chattanooga, I obtained a pass from the provost marshal for myself and five others and early the next morning we set out for Lookout Mountain, one of the finest summer resorts in the South. First, we walked down the railroad to the point where it passed between the foot of the mountain and the river. Here the view is truly sublime. On the one hand, the cliff rises abrupt and perpendicular hundreds of feet in the air while on the other just a few feet distant from the mountain’s base rolls the broad and majestic Tennessee. Along this narrow track the iron horse, fearless of danger, dashes along with fearful speed. In the side of the cliff is a long cave winding through the mountain and said to have an outlet in Georgia some 15 miles distant. At its mouth, close by the railroad are saltpeter works furnishing about 100 pounds per day. Near the cave in the riverbank is the blowing spring, an aperture from which a strong current of cold air constantly issues.

          Leaving this interesting spot, we commenced our ascent by a winding path leading us over huge masses of rocks, interspersed with spruce pine and other stunted growth, and conducting us from elevation to elevation until at length, after many resting spells and pauses to “blow,” we reached the summit of the mountain. Here the scenery which presented itself to view was magnificent and sublime. We were seated apparently in the center of an enormous circle rimmed with ranges of lofty hills, rising one above another until they blend with the distant horizon. Towering far above the others was a branch of the Blue Ridge as it appears in the “Old North State.” In another direction may be viewed the hills of Georgia while in the southwest loom up the heights of northern Alabama. Scattered here and there among the distant hills might be seen curls of smoke and tiny white objects indicating the encampments of our army.

          Down below us was the scattered town of Chattanooga and at our feet flowed the Tennessee, making its way through the far-off mountains like the windings of a gigantic, glistening serpent. One of these bends together with the green woods that fringe its edges forms a striking imitation of an Indian’s moccasin, hence the name Chattanooga or Moccasin Gap. In after days, this spot and its vicinity will be visited as classic ground. Already these mountains have re-echoed the booming of hostile cannon. The Yankees some weeks since unceremoniously bombarded Chattanooga, frightening the old ladies and children almost out of their wits. After throwing about 300 shells, they were repulsed, having done about $50 worth of damage, the casualties being one “Union” cow killed and one little Negro slightly wounded.

          Our army is now on the move and soon you may expect to hear of grand events in this part of Tennessee. Buell is from 20-40 miles distant, strongly posted in the mountains. His forces are to a great extent demoralized. His soldiers, especially those from east Tennessee and Kentucky, are deserting daily and many of them have been brought to this place. They represent Buell’s men as being badly fed, weakened by disease, and generally dissatisfied. On the other hand, the Army of the Mississippi was never in better health and finer spirits. Everything now bids fair for our success and by the aid of a just and righteous God we expect soon to put an end to Yankee dominion in this fair portion of Dixie’s land.

 

In mere days, Corporal Butt and Stanford’s Battery would march into Kentucky where on October 8, 1862, at the Battle of Perryville they fought their first major engagement. To read Leigh’s description of that fight, click here to see “A Mississippi Gunner at Perryville.”

         

Source:

Letter for Corporal Benjamin Watkins Leigh Butt, Stanford’s Mississippi Battery, Memphis Daily Appeal (Tennessee), August 26, 1862, pg. 2

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