Chaplain Livermore’s Rough Sunday at Pittsburg Landing

Chaplain Lark S. Livermore of the 16th Wisconsin had already endured a Sabbath unlike any he'd ever experienced before when on the afternoon of April 6, 1862, he witnessed the frightening breakdown in morale amongst his comrades in the Federal army. 

He was starting to dress the wounded arm of his colonel when "a few shells from the enemy dropped amid the promiscuous crowd of thousands on the bank and got up a regular stampede. The whole side hill seemed in motion, making a break for the boats which began just then (as all had steam up) to back off from shore amid the deafening cry, ‘the Rebels are upon us!’ The backing off of the boats heightened the alarm. I handed the Dr. Torry the bowl I was using to catch the blood from the arm of Colonel Allen, fearing for the safety of Charlie with the horses on shore in such an alarming stampede. The gangplank was literally hemmed full and men crowded off into the river in a rush to get on board the boats and away from the advancing foe. The boat backed off just as I came on to the gang and met the rushing crowd and let the gangplank fall into the river. I then thought it was each man for himself and acted accordingly, literally making a bridge of the heads and shoulders of those crowding the gang. I made my way to shore, getting wet only to the top of one bootleg."

    Chaplain Livermore's lengthy account of Shiloh, written over the course of nearly two weeks, provides one of the finest descriptions I've yet seen of the chaos of the fighting on April 6th, and speaks to the experience of many Federal regiments that would fight, break, reform, and fight again in position after position throughout that fateful day. This account was constructed by combining Livermore's two accounts of Shiloh published in the Berlin City Courant; one published May 15, 1862 which covers the retreat up until the point he is ordered to the boats, and the second on July 10, 1862 which covers his experiences at Pittsburg Landing among the wounded. 

Private Horace H. Smith of Co. G of the 16th Wisconsin Infantry was among Chaplain Livermore's comrades at the Battle of Shiloh. At Shiloh, the regiment's first engagement, the 16th Wisconsin suffered a loss of 245 men killed, wounded, and missing. 

Camp Prentiss, Tennessee

April 18, 26, and 29, 1862

          Long ere this will reach you, you will have seen and published many versions of our terrible battle of the 6^th instant. But as there are certain items of local interest to your readers, I will write a brief account as it passed under my own observation.

          It was a fair, bright morning and I was going down to the tent of the brass band to give them the hymns to sing at service at 10 o’clock and met one of our pickets, driven in by the enemy then not a mile distant from our encampment. As yet at 7 o’clock a.m., none but the earliest risers had been to breakfast and many of the officers were not up even. General Prentiss’s aide came dashing down on his fiery steed and ordered all to fall into line of battle. Four of the companies (A, B, C, and D) had been sent out on picket duty to the right of our front leaving the 16^th Wisconsin, 18^th Missouri, 61^st Illinois, and 18^th Wisconsin unpicketed entirely or nearly so, General Prentiss simply saying as I learn by the 18^th ‘boys, guard yourselves well in front.’

General Benjamin M. Prentiss would be captured later in the day on April 6, 1862 along with about 2,500 men from his division and that of General W.H.L. Wallace. 

That a general, whose headquarters was not half a mile from where he was first fired at by the enemy should so leave raw troops (the 18^th Wisconsin left the boat Saturday night) and that, too, when from Friday night (so says camp rumor) a fight was expected. When I think of the cords of arms, legs, and skulls, not to think of the thousands of bodies that swell a soldier’s grave, not to speak of the innumerable groans and sighs of widows and orphans and the bethrothed ones, words are no images for feelings.

The long roll sounded and in 15 minutes, Colonel Benjamin Allen and Lieutenant Cassius Colonel Fairchild were at the head of the noble 16^th Wisconsin, leading them to face the approaching foe. Adjutant [George M.] Sabin and I mounted our horses together and were soon up with our brave boys, for we had not to ride over 800 yards. An hour before this, those four companies (A, B, C, and D) had met the pickets at our right, skulked in ambush, and received their scattering fire. Here fell, almost at the first fire, our dear friend and most ardently loved Captain Edward Saxe, shot through the heart. No lingering, tortured death was his. Here also in this skirmish Sergeant John H. Williams was shot in the throat or a little to one side, and the ball came out at the center of the back of his head. The poor fellow said, “I am mortally wounded, loosen my belt.” One more breath and all was over; the spirit left the body.

Both were borne back to Captain Saxe’s tent and laid like brothers or twins in death, side by side on the captain’s pallet. They had fought side by side, having been ordered to join Colonel Moore and take the right flank. They now sleep in death side by side. On Tuesday they were buried by our boys. Their watches, money, and even their boots were taken by the enemy. They now lie encircled by three trees 18-inches through at the stump, cut off 60 feet high by cannon balls and the tops pitching towards their graves as if to do them reverence. Future generations will mark the spot where they sleep for these oaks will sprout again to stand as living sentinels over the dead.

In this picket engagement, Coley Smith, the orderly of Co. A, was dangerously wounded in the shoulder and is now at Savannah, the ball not extracted. The company deeply feels his loss; he is the best drill officer in the regiment, a man beloved by all and from his military tact commanded the respect of all. [Orderly Sergeant Smith would die of his wounds one month later at Keokuk, Iowa, having received a field commission as first lieutenant.]

Now I must describe the opening fire on our front. The 16^th Wisconsin passed the open field and formed in line in the thick brush of the parade or review ground of Saturday. Colonel Allen, with characteristic coolness, was cheering his men to noble deeds, saying to them, ‘now be deliberate and pick your man.’ General Prentiss rode by in great haste; I approached him myself and said, ‘Now general, if there is anything I can do, call on me.’ He said, ‘Put spurs to your horse and go to my headquarters and tell my aides all are relieved... (this portion of the text is unreadable unfortunately). I say if honor it could be to carry a dispatch for a general who would allow himself to be surprised by the enemy in solid column not 800 yards from his headquarters. On my return to him, all was still more excited. A small battery came thundering down to our aide as we hoped.

Camp marker for 16th Wisconsin at Shiloh National Battlefield. 

The firing to our right was waxing warm and Prentiss ordered Colonel Allen and the battery to file right and march where the firing was warmest. At this juncture, I cast my eye to the left and perhaps 100 yards off there stood the Secesh army (having risen from the ground) with fiery red flag in full view. I rode right up to General Prentiss and signaled him to behold the secesh and flag. Colonel Allen also saw them and cited the general that way. From this moment, there was a perfect hailstorm of bullets. General Prentiss, having ordered the battery to halt, now directed it to ‘file left and fire.’

As this volley was exchanged, I saw Charlie [his 12-year-old son Charles B. Livermore] and old Kate some 75 yards off coming in haste. I rode to him and found he only wished to be with me; I sent him to the tent as he could do no good. Now our boys formed a line the further side of the open field and exchanged shots in the thick brush with the foe. Governor Harvey, when here, went out to this point and saw how the brush was literally mowed down. He said it ‘seemed as wonder that a single man lived through it.’

General Prentiss ordered us to fall back to the trees 25-30 rods across a cleared field ‘in double quick time.’ Colonel Fairchild would not repeat the order. He heard it but told the boys to fire again. They delighted to obey his order. But one of Prentiss’s aides came dashing along the whole line, ordered a retreat to the open timber and to fire from behind the trees. The enemy was advancing by brigades in column three deep. These are the circumstances under which we retreated. Some of the prisoners taken said they all believed us sharpshooters. Our Belgian rifles, such was the proximity of the armies, would send a ball through their column three men deep.

Lt. Col. Cassius Fairchild, 16th Wisconsin
Wounded at Shiloh

They now rushed on in solid column by brigades and only our men in single file now, having fallen back to their color line in cool collected order, under their respective colonels. At the first firing, Colonel Allen’s horse fell under him. He declined taking him, saying he would have his saddle shifted to his other horse for they were familiar with each other’s motions. Adjutant Sabin had ridden the colonel’s second horse up to this time. He sent Colonel Allen’s horse to him but the horse was shot dead just before he got to the colonel. I offered the adjutant mine, but he said, ‘no, the firing is hot. I had as full as live risk myself on foot,’ and on the double quick he rushed back to the color line.

At about this time, Colonel Fairchild received a severe wound in the thigh. He fell at the head of his regiment and was borne back to the rear. Colonel Allen and Adjutant Sabin were still cheering the boys to stand firm. But the enemy came in like a flood and Prentiss ordered another retreat, again directing the boys to fire from behind the trees. This is the way the 16^th Wisconsin ran, and the 18^th Wisconsin also. But they kept up a galling fire as they retreated. Lieutenant Vail told me he passed many of his men hugging close to the trees and with deadly aim dropping the enemy, unmindful that they were already outflanked and would slap them with his sword saying, ‘Boys, you must retreat, the enemy are far in advance of you.’ This is the way we retreated. We didn’t retreat; we only fell back to give fight to such overwhelming numbers as would have put us in their pockets in spite of us. Retreat is no name for our action that morning; the 16^th Wisconsin rallied under their gallant leader Colonel Allen eight times that day.

Colonel Fairchild was shot and Colonel Allen’s second horse fell, no regiments were yet coming to our relief, and the little battery that we hoped for as our relief were so excited that they did not limber. One of the horses being shot through the back, the horses became unmanageable and ran through our tents in the wildest fury and did more, together with a regiment of cavalry that came rattling through the camp in wild retreat, to awaken a stampede in the regiment that did all the hitherto fire of the enemy!

General Prentiss ordered us to fall back and fire from the trees as best we could and we were already outflanked on our right. The boys obeyed the order, Colonel Allen not repeating it. He stood facing the enemy with all calmness, sword and person erect as if on dress parade. He finally turned and walked deliberately away. The sick and wounded were now moving towards the river and the enemy was not amidst our tents. I saw nothing more of our gallant officers until 12 o’clock. We fell back three-fourths of a mile where we came across the old artillery parade ground, a cleared field of 15 acres. Here it seemed to me was a fitting place to make a bold stand. I rode with officers up and down this field crying at the top of my voice to halt and make another Bull Run. But we could do nothing with them. Lieutenant George Spurr [Co. A] emerged from the brush saying, ‘it is no use to make a stand, we are all cut to pieces.’

I turned to the back side of the lot where the road passed and amid some log buildings, I fell in with Lieutenant David Gray Purman of Co. I, and splendid man and officer, and Lieutenant [Richard P.] Derickson of Co. K. We undertook to stop the crowd and by a few brave fellows who happened to stop the rout and form in a line of all companies and regiments, without regard to who were their commanders. Shot and shell were falling thick and fast all around us, but not a man that stopped ran away. By the by, the ‘siz’ of those bullets reminds a sensitive man of the ultimate whiz of a hungry mosquito when he shakes his last dip and lights for blood. The burning of the fuse of a bombshell is like the burning of wet powder in a torpedo and the bursting of the shells just like our explosive bursts of thunder when it seems to explode in the air.

While these lieutenants were gathering the men here, I saw a fine group of the 16^th Wisconsin gathering to our right and in the rear. I rode out there to bring them forward and for the first time saw Major Thomas Reynolds, who had for a time previous been deprived of his sword and confined to his tent for the trivial act of (together with Colonel Fairchild and the adjutant’s clerk) writing a sort of pass for his old, bogus Irish hostler to go down to the river, provided he could work his passage. The major got the sword of some fugitive officer and was collecting forces with a borrowed sword. I was here reminded on my extreme thirst by my faithful horse refusing to cross a muddy stream till he could drink. He drank at one side and I, far more prostrate than he, drank at the other.

The headquarters of the 16th Wisconsin in camp in the field in Tennessee later in the war. 

I rallied those few men and brought them to the major. Riding to the rear for other men to bring them forward, I met Surgeon George W. Eastman who rather sternly informed me that my place was by his side to look for the wounded and dying. I had gone but a few rods when I met Horace Bagg [Private of Co. A] and another man supporting George M. Camp, shot through the upper part of the right ling. I asked him to get on my horses, assuring him that my horse was perfectly safe. He steadied himself by the high tree of the saddle and strange as it may seem to those who know how spirited an animal my black horse is, with myself leading and a man on the other side urging we could not get that horse to walk at half his gait. I said we should not get to the boat for an hour at this rate (it was 2-1/2 miles off) and I will find a team and get him aboard of it. I did so, and the instant I mounted my horse, he was off at the top of his speed. I verily believe the horse instinctively knew that a dying man was on his back. [Private George M. Camp died of wounds April 10, 1862, at Savannah, Tennessee and is buried at Shiloh National Cemetery in grave 2919.]

By this time, the wounded and dying were crowding the way and Adjutant Sabin, a man of great versatility of character, called to me to find an ambulance for a man shot through the back. Having provided for all I met a passage to the hospital boat, who should I meet but our brave Colonel Allen, safe and sound. ‘Well chaplain,” he said, ‘I am happy to meet you again. Tell the boys I am going to make another stand back at the next clearing at the log house.’ This was the eighth time the 16^th Wisconsin rallied at the command of the beloved colonel. No white feather shows itself yet as those untruthful Illinoisans reported of us!

At this last rallying, Colonel Allen received a musket shot in the forearm near the elbow, passing between and slightly fracturing the bones. Perfectly cool and self-possessed, he ordered the boys to load flat down on the ground, for they were in a small ravine and under cover of the fire of the enemy who were now passing down another shallow ravine by thousands towards the river to drive our forces back from it and hence keep themselves from the deadly shells of the gunboats. Our boys still chased them up, pouring in upon them a galling fire.

Adjutant Sabin, as amid the last bold acts of the day, rode his newly captured horse to the top of the hill, drew his revolver from his holsters, and discharged five shots from each, saving one in each for future emergencies. No white feather yet! For this deliberate coolness by Adjutant Sabin, the Secesh returned him the compliment, their fire only taking effect by a buckshot (for they fire a ball and two buckshot with each cartridge) hitting the horse in the nose, which made the new war horse right about and forward march in double quick. This was the last fighting the 16^th Wisconsin did on Sunday.

This scene would have been a familiar one to Chaplain Livermore: a row of steamboats lined up at Pittsburg Landing with their gangplanks reaching the shore. Thousands of discouraged Federal troops lined the embankment and a few Confederate shells landing nearby "got up a regular stampede. The whole side hill seemed in motion, making a break for the boats which began just then to back off from shore amid the deafening cry 'The Rebels are upon us!' The backing off of the boats heightened the alarm," Chaplain Livermore recalled. 

Before this engagement, Colonel Allen told me I had best make for the boat and aid the surgeons and wounded and that if I saw Captain [George H.] Fox [Co. B] to say to him from the colonel to report himself at once where the colonel was making his last stand. The colonel evidently had much feeling over the captain’s leaving his company so early in the morning and exhibiting such a passion to capture a horse which he had succeeded in doing, for he [Fox] was now away from his company riding Lieutenant Colonel Fairchild’s horses a mile and a half from the scene of the engagement! But the captain did not report himself per the colonel’s orders.

After I left Colonel Allen, I went to the boat, the City of Memphis. It was lying under the bank where it reached an elevation of 60 feet and so steep that it had to be terraced. Here, I found the wounded gathering fast. Our physicians, Eastman and [Benjamin R.] Torry, I also found here and several other physicians perfectly overwhelmed with duties to the wounded and dying. They gave me orders to bring all of the wounded of the 16^th Wisconsin aboard. To this order many a man owes his life. For the guard would not ordinarily allow any to come on board unless severely or mortally wounded. But such was the continued coming of the 16^th they would let me pass without a word.

About 3 p.m., I ascended that rugged hill again and what should salute my ears but the voice of Charlie, saying with mingled accents of grief and joy, ‘Hallo father, you are yet alive!’ This was the first I had seen of him or he of me since 7 a.m. when the battle opened. Judge ye my joy to know that my boy was spared amid that terrible day’s slaughter.

At 4 o’clock or thereabouts, Colonel Allen sent word to Surgeon Torry that he was wounded. We at once started down the river to the boat. But just as we began dressing his arm, a few shells from the enemy dropped amid the promiscuous crowd of thousands on the bank and got up a regular stampede. The whole side hill seemed in motion, making a break for the boats which began just then (as all had steam up) to back off from shore amid the deafening cry, ‘the Rebels are upon us!’ The backing off of the boats heightened the alarm.

I handed the Dr. Torry the bowl I was using to catch the blood from the arm of Colonel Allen, fearing for the safety of Charlie with the horses on shore in such an alarming stampede. The gangplank was literally hemmed full and men crowded off into the river in a rush to get on board the boats and away from the advancing foe. The boat backed off just as I came on to the gang and met the rushing crowd and let the gangplank fall into the river. I then thought it was each man for himself and acted accordingly, literally making a bridge of the heads and shoulders of those crowding the gang. I made my way to shore, getting wet only to the top of one bootleg. All scrambled up the gangplank and none were drowned. Charlie looked as though he evidently belonged to a white race of people!

The gunboat Lexington, lying not half a mile up the river, kept the enemy in check. As I was leaving the boat Planet with Surgeon Torrey on it and the colonel, I heard the captain say, ‘I am going over the river after Buell and his forces.’ I took my horse and rode to the top of the hill exclaiming at the top of my voice, ‘Hold on men! The boats are only backing off to go over the river for Buell and his forces!” This was to the excited and terror-stricken crowd like oil to the troubled waters and the stampede ceased.

Sources:

Letters from Chaplain Lark Southgate Livermore, 16^th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, Berlin City Courant (Wisconsin), May 15, 1862, pgs. 1-2, also, July 10, 1862, pg. 2