Language Cannot Convey in Colors True: A Hoosier in the Round Forest

Wounded during the fighting in the Round Forest at Stones River, Private Almon Stuart of the 9th Indiana recalled the desperate plight of the Federal army on the first day of the battle, and the part his regiment played in turning the tide. 

    "For a time Wednesday, it seemed as if our defeat was inevitable," recalled Private Almon Stuart of the 9th Indiana Infantry.  "But the left wing, that portion of the army in which the old 9^th Indiana is, held its own; nay more, they drove back a portion of the Rebel force and saved our army from destruction changing what seemed for a time certain defeat into a great and glorious victory. It should be called the Battle of Cottonfields for it was fought over not only woods, meadows, and cornfields, but also over three cotton fields, in all of which the cotton was ungathered."

    Private Stuart's vivid description of the Battle of Stones River first appeared in the February 5, 1863, edition of the St. Joseph Valley Register published in South Bend, Indiana. 

Private Almon Stuart served in Co. I of the 9th Indiana Volunteer Infantry and was an eyewitness to the ferocious fighting that engulfed the Round Forest on December 31, 1862. 

Camp near Readyville, Tennessee

January 12, 1863

Dear wife,

          You may have asked, “Why do you not write more about that terrible battle of the last of December at Murfreesboro?” I would gladly write to you all the particulars of that bloody, awful conflict as far as I am acquainted with them. I would answer if I felt myself competent to paint or portray even in faint or feeble colors the horrible fierceness, the indomitable bravery that characterized both sides throughout the desperate fight, the fiercest battle yet fought in the war. But no pen can paint, no language can convey in colors true the conflict of that day.

          We left Nashville camp on Friday morning December 26^th, and that afternoon we heard much firing both by artillery and cavalry in our front. We passed several dead horses laying by the side of the road and saw several wounded cavalrymen and artillerists and three dead men. Many trees were cut partly off by cannon balls from 3-20 feet from the ground.

A little before dark, our regiment and the 6^th Kentucky were sent into a thick wood some quarter of a mile off the road on the right to occupy the ground as pickets tasked with protecting a large force of cavalry stationed in an open field close by. Some of them had scoured the woods only half an hour before we entered it and reported no enemy there. We therefore marched into the woods in column, guns not loaded; the 6^th Kentucky, luckily, had theirs loaded. We advanced about 80 rods when all at once a heavy continuous fire of rifles opened on us only a few rods from us in our front. Our regiment was thrown into some confusion, but soon recovered. The 6^th Kentucky opened a heavy fire at once, we soon had our guns loaded, then deployed as skirmishers and returned their fire with interest.

One man in Co. C of our regiment was killed and another wounded; one of the 6^th Kentucky was killed and two wounded; the Rebel loss is not known. After driving the Rebels some distance, we formed in column and left the woods, camping in a cedar swamp over a half mile to the left of the pike. That day’s experience was but the prelude of what followed for the next 8 days. The nearer we approached to Murfreesboro, the more frequent and incessant grew the firing, every inch of ground for about 20 miles was contested by the Rebels. Dead men and horses often met our sight and many wounded, too, in the gallant fight.

At length, on Monday the 29^th, we arrived and camped within a third of a mile of the ground which we were so soon to moisten with our blood. All the next day, we lay inactive, listening to the roar of the cannon and the rattle of musketry at intervals through the day, on our right, left, and front, darkness only putting an end to the battle.

Wednesday’s sun arose bright and beautiful to look down on a scene of carnage, a long day of conflict. Yet ere his beams illumed the east, just at the dawn of day, the cannons’ roar proclaimed death’s feast and called us to the fray.

Colonel William B. Hazen earned his brigadier's star for his stout defense of the Round Forest during the Battle of Stones River. 

Our brigade, consisting of the 41^st Ohio, 110^th Illinois, 6^th Kentucky, and our regiment, marched out of the woods in which we had passed the night and formed in order of battle in a large cotton field (the cotton was still hanging on the stalk and whitening the ground) with the 41^st and 110^th in the advance. The morning was cold; all of us were flag enough to hover over and around fires, which were burning and smoking in every direction. From early dawn, we had heard heavy firing on our right. As the day advanced, firing was heard on our left and front and soon it seemed as if the enemy were surrounding us.

It was now between 8 and 9 a.m. The 41^st and 110^th were fiercely engaged with the enemy on our left and front only about a quarter of a mile off. We were at the time ordered to lay down close by the woods that skirted the cotton field. While laying there, a small scale from a stone that had been struck by a shell hit me on my right hand, on the back of it, just drawing blood. (It is now entirely well.) A little before 10 a.m., we formed in line of battle and relieved the 41^st. At this time, we could see the fire from the Rebels’ guns, both in our front and rear. In our rear, our men were broken, many of them flying in confusion, but we soon forgot them in the conflict in which we now engaged.

We fired a terrible volley as we arrived on the ground the 41^st had occupied and three such lusty cheers or yells as we then sent up, heard above the roar of battle and the groans of the wounded. We then lay down or kneeled down on one knee, and thus loaded and fired as fast as possible. I stood up almost every time that I fired. Cos. D and I opened to the right and left, making an open space, through which two cannons, stationed a few rods in our rear, belched forth their iron messengers of death. Thus, for hours we fought, with the dead and wounded falling around us.

At length, when loading my gun for the 52^nd time, a ball from the foe on a death mission bound did its mission forego and dealt me a slight wound on my left index finger. The ball hit me I found, so finding it useless to linger, I in haste left the ground. As I left the field (carrying my gun and the captain’s sword as he had been wounded and carried off the field sometime before), I passed W.W. Roper, limping off, many others more or less wounded.

Albert Mathews' depiction of the fighting along the Nashville Pike on the afternoon of December 31, 1862 shows the 9th Indiana in action in the Round Forest at the upper left. It is worth noting that on the west side of the Nashville Pike sat a small structure known as the Toll House. 

I made my way to the hospital some distance off. But what s sight there met my view. Dying or dead, our brave and true, were lying there on every side with none to care for them, none to provide for needful wants, their wounds to bind, and cheer them up with kind words. I found none of our company or regiment here so I went to another hospital a half mile further off and here I found our assistant surgeon. John Knowlton was brought in here just as I arrived. I got a bandage from the doctor and done up my finger.

Very soon, we all had to leave as the Rebels opened fire on one of the batteries stationed close by. I went into a wood a short distance off and passed the night lying around poor fires as Rosecrans had ordered all fires extinguished. Darkness put an end also to the day’s fighting. Our regiment, shortly after I left them, fell back to the railroad some 60 rods where, protected by a high bank as the railroad was cut through a small hill and the track being about five feet below the level of the ground on either side, our boys held their position until night.

          On New Year’s morning, I hunted up the regiment and stayed with them an hour or so then went to the general hospital a mile or so away on the Murfreesboro Pike and spent the rest of New Year’s there, feasting on raw bacon and hard crackers. In the afternoon, I went round through the hospital tents, some 100 or more men in every one; 3-12 were lying all badly wounded in some of them. The doctors were cutting off feet or legs, arms or hands or fingers, piles of which were lying outside of those tents. The large brick hospital two stories high was full of wounded, laying or seated around in every direction, hundreds of them and more coming in every moment. Many were Rebels, a good many, too, were laying with blankets thrown over them on every side. I passed the night laying outdoors before a fire on two wide boards. The battle raged all this day, too, at intervals with more or less violence although not near as yesterday.

The next morning (Friday January 2^nd), I went to the division hospital and spent the day there, fighting at intervals through the day while many of the wounded left for Nashville in supply and ammunition wagons. Awful fighting for an hour or so about sundown and until after dark on our left, the fiercest fighting by far of the entire battle. On Saturday, also, a good deal of firing in different parts of the battlefield and after dark a long, sharp fight on our front and left, the last effort of the enemy in his death struggle for victory in which he was signally defeated. Thus after 9 days of fighting between our forces, the Rebels were compelled to evacuate Murfreesboro and fly in confusion toward Chattanooga.

"It should be called the Battle of Cottonfields for it was fought over not only woods, meadows, and cornfields, but also over three cotton fields, in all of which the cotton was ungathered." 

For a time Wednesday, it seemed as if our defeat was inevitable. Our right was surprised early in the morning, many were taken prisoner, and the whole right wing of our army was driven back a mile or so in much confusion. Our center also was driven before the enemy and some say broken, but the left wing, that portion of the army in which the old 9^th Indiana is, held its own; nay more, they drove back a portion of the Rebel force and saved our army from destruction changing what seemed for a time certain defeat into a great and glorious victory.

On Sunday, our advance occupied Murfreesboro and our cavalry and several pieces of flying artillery (light small cannon) pursued them several miles beyond Murfreesboro, taking many prisoners and capturing a good many arms. Thus ended a long terrible battle. It should be called the Battle of Cottonfields for it was fought over not only woods, meadows, and cornfields, but also over three cotton fields, in all of which the cotton was ungathered.

The battlefield of Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday covered a extent of country 7-8 miles each way and over all that country when we left last Wednesday could be seen the relics of the fight: broken guns, torn clothing, old cartridge boxes, broken wheels of artillery wagons, and dead horses in every direction. Everything to remind one of the awful destruction of life and property.

Source:

Letter from Private Almon Stuart, Co. I, 9^th Indiana Volunteer Infantry, St. Joseph Valley Register (Indiana), February 5, 1863, pg. 2

To learn more about the Stones River campaign, be sure to check out my new book "Hell by the Acre: A Narrative History of the Stones River Campaign" available now from Savas Beatie.