Combat and Feral Hogs: A Georgian Remembers the Horrors of Stones River

For Corporal Walter B. Smith of the 3rd Georgia Infantry Battalion, the ending of the fighting at Stones River replaced the horrors of combat with a perhaps unexpected menace: a band of roving hogs.

His brigade had gone into bivouac in the cedar forest and as “the fighting now ceased for the day on the part of our division we soon found that we had a far different enemy to contend with- a drove of wild hogs had commenced to devour the dead and wounded,” Smith recalled in 1902. “They seemed perfectly crazed by the taste of human flesh. The writer saw several fighting over the arms and entrails of the dead. The wounded and dead were soon gathered up and it was necessary to put guards around them with fixed bayonets in order to keep off the hogs.” Confederate burial details started work that night, in part to get the bodies underground before the hogs could get at them as Smith observed.

Corporal Smith’s gritty memoir of Stones River first saw publication in the June 15, 1902, edition of the Montgomery Advertiser.

 

Brigadier General James Edward Rains was the first Confederate general killed during the Battle of Stones River. Leading a brigade in McCown's division consisting of the 11th Tennessee, 29th North Carolina, and the 3rd and 9th Georgia Infantry Battalions, Rains' men took part in the initial attack that broke the Union right and continued north until they tangled with John Beatty's Federals then the 36th Indiana of William Grose's brigade in the cedar forest north of the Wilkinson Pike. The young Nashville native was killed, likely by a soldier in the 36th Indiana, after complimenting the 29th North Carolina by declaring, "I will bet my black horse on the 29th." 

          The above-named battle was the first conflict of any magnitude that the writer was engaged in. It proved to be a terrific and bloody one and if you think it will interest your readers, you may use it as you did my Missionary Ridge article.

          The author, with his regiment, after following General E. Kirby Smith into and out of Kentucky was hurried down to Murfreesboro to participate in the big battle that was impending and which was fought on the 31st day of December 1862. Our brigade, with the exception of the 37th Georgia [which was formed as the consolidation of the 3rd and 9th Georgia Battalions in the spring of 1863], was composed entirely of Tennesseans under the gallant young General Jim Rains of Nashville, as brave a man as ever lived. Marcus Stovall, then our colonel, commanded our battalion.

Our company was a mixture of town, country, and factory boys, several of whom could not read or write and of course could not be expected to know much about the outside world or how people thereof looked and dressed. But they knew how to drill and fight. Out of five brothers on our company’s rolls, only one could write and I believe at first they had the impression that the Yankees were something on the order of wild animals, for in the opening of the engagement I heard one exclaim, “I swear, they can shoot just like other folks!”

On the evening of the 30th we were thrown into line to face some of the best soldiers the world has ever beheld. They were western and northwestern men, some of whom were crack shots having handled guns since boyhood. There was a vast difference in these troops and the Federals soldiers of the east and north, for a great many of the latter had been brought up in workshops, stores, and factories, had never handled firearms in all their lives before they set out to conquer us. There were also among them a large sprinkling of foreigners who did not care to sell their lives for the sake of the Union, but not so the western and northwestern boys for they were “true blue” and the old Confederates did not undervalue them. They knew that it was like Greek meet Greek. The generals also realized this fact for both sides played for advantage and it was by gaining the advantage that we won this fight.

Rosecrans had formed his army in front of Murfreesboro with the mass of his troops on his left with the intention of forcing Stones River on the north of the railroad. His right was more extended, forming something of an angle with his center and left facing almost east. The river and Nashville turnpike divided his army making nearly two separate wings. Our corps [Hardee’s], composed of the divisions of Breckinridge, Cleburne, and McCown, formed the left of Bragg’s army and were posted on the east bank of the river, extending nearly to the Nashville road. Our army was estimated at about 40,000 effective men. It was the intention of the Federal general to “lick” us on the morning of the 31st but it was here that he got badly left.

That General Bragg took umbrage with McCown's dispositions before Stones River isn't surprising given Bragg's poor opinion of McCown, once labeling him the worst divisional commander in the army. Bragg would criticize McCown in his Stones River after action report; McCown would leave the army soon after cursing Bragg and the "damned stinking cotton oligarchy." 

Our brigade on the evening of the 29th was posted near the extreme left but through a mistake was posted in such a manner as to enable the enemy’s batteries to rake us from right to left. General Bragg, on discovering our peril, rode up with his entire staff and demanded of General Rains, “Who placed you here?” General Rains replied, “By order of General McCown.” General Bragg’s next order was “change it sir, so your men cannot be enfiladed,” or words to that effect. It was here that Bragg came near losing his life for the enemy, surmising that it was some general of note with so large a bodyguard opened fire with shrapnel and canister from a distance of not 700 yards. The writer was sitting within 10 feet of General Bragg and while Bragg instinctively dodged from the shower of iron and balls that went hurtling by Rains never moved a muscle of his face. Bragg, with his staff following him, then galloped off to a heavy piece of woods in the edge of the field. It was then nearly sundown. General Rains changed our position so that we fronted the enemy which made us feel much easier.

At daylight on the morning of the 31st, we were ordered to climb over the rail fence behind which we had hidden and go in a run upon the enemy’s line, not to give them a chance or time to halt or form, and not to sound the old Rebel yell until we were right upon them. General Rains, on a powerful, large, black horse with our regimental colors in one hand, led the way on a gallop, not even stopping at fences, his horse jumping them while we just fell over them in a manner. So fast did we got that we were almost upon the Federal pickets in the cornfield before they realized the fact and by the time they had reached their main line, we were almost upon it.

Then, raising a terrific yell, we dashed among them, firing right and left. The enemy was so completely taken by surprise that they made but a feeble resistance. Those that were not shot down made a wild rush for the rear, leaving their breakfasts and everything else, the Confederates in full chase and yelling for all they were worth. Through cornfields, over fences, past barns and dwellings we sped, scooping in the boys in blue by the hundreds with now and then some very funny things happening to make us enjoy the chase. It was on this run that the writer saw one very young Confederate order an old Federal to “come out from behind that tree” and when he stepped out and surrendered, we were surprised and amused to hear this young soldier exclaim, “Hello dad! What in thunder are you doing with them that clothes one?” He had captured his own father!

Rains' brigade of McCown's division held the divisional left during the initial assault at Stones River. The whole division struck General Richard Johnson's line before wheeling to the right, a movement which crossed up the brigade lines and so tangled McCown's advance that the following division (Cleburne's) soon found itself in the front line confronting General Jefferson Davis's Federal division as the fighting rolled north towards the Wilkinson Pike. 

Another amusing scene occurred at a barn filled with hay in which some Federals attempted to hide. On our surrounding it, several of the enemy called out that they would surrender, and coming out gave themselves up. One of our company, however, not being satisfied with the looks of things, grabbed a pitchfork and went to probing in the hay. After several thrusts we were startled and convulsed with laughter by hearing a Dutchman yell out, “Hould up! Hould up! Mine Gott! I vill give up!” The hay tossed right and left and out rolled the most badly frightened Dutchman I ever saw.

The enemy now threw forward a small body of cavalry to try and check us but the open field affording an unobstructed view for a long distance, they were seen in time to give us a chance to rally on our colors. We then made a rush at their cavalry who put the spurs to their horses and went racing after their infantry. We kept up the pursuit for about two miles, forcing their right wing back in such a manner as to almost double it on their left. Reaching a heavy piece of fenced woodland and backed by a dense cedar thicket and being nearly out of ammunition, we threw forward a line of skirmishers as a precaution against ambush.

It was fortunate that we did so for soon rapid firing in front told us that the enemy had rushed reinforcements to try and stem the tide of defeat and that our skirmishers were hotly engaged. Now the command “forward” ran along the line and the boys almost at a double quick moved toward the firing in front. Soon our skirmishers were seen falling back and then every man seemed to know what was coming and nerved himself for it. Boom, boom, boom, shh, shh, shh, bang, bang, bang! The enemy opened on us with several batteries. But steadily we moved forward until we reached the brow of a small ravine or large gully, backed by a dense cedar thicket where, crouched or kneeling not 50 steps below us with their guns at a ready was a heavy line of bluecoats. Such a crash of musketry greeted us almost point-blank that it seemed as it no one could escape. But our nearness and being above them was what saved us- their shots passed above us.

Rains' brigade first struck the right flank of General John Beatty's Federal brigade in the cedars before marching north and running into the 36th Indiana near the edge of the cedars. The 36th Indiana, thinking the Regular Brigade was in their front, marched into the cedars without skirmishers and blundered right into the waiting guns of the 11th Tennessee. 

The enemy doubtless thought they had wiped us off the face of the earth but imagine their surprise when with a mighty Rebel yell we dashed right into their very ranks with our guns loaded and began dealing death muzzle to muzzle. The little gully was soon strewn with dead and dying and it was here that our brave young General Rains fell, pierced through the heart while the enemy’s colonel commanding their brigade Colonel Forman of Kentucky also fell, pierced by three balls. [Colonel Forman led the 15th Kentucky, a regiment a Colonel John Beatty’s brigade. His body was retrieved by his own troops later that evening. See “Swallowed by the Cedars: A Day with the 15th Kentucky”]

           The death of our beloved general seemed to rouse the demon of battle in every man and so fiercely did we fight that the enemy again broke in wild disorder for the cedar thicket in their rear- our brigade in full chase. It was here that I saw one of our boys stick his gun right against a big Dutchman who was in the act of jumping over a pile a dead brush and at the crack of the rifle, the Dutchman nearly tumbled a complete somersault, falling into a small lime pit perfectly dead, his clothes smoking from the fire from the rifle. The ball must have cut his heart in twain.

          Again, the enemy threw forward a heavy column and the fighting that followed was something on the Indian order. Our ammunition having given out completely, Colonel Stovall, now commanding the brigade, ordered us to rally on the colors. We then marched out of the cedar thicket and took up a position on the brow of the very gully from which we had been fired upon a short time before. The enemy, discovering or guessing the cause of our falling back without replying to their shots, formed in heavy column and began to move upon us.

          Colonel Stovall, seeing the necessity of holding our ground, rode up to the colors and gave in a voice like a trumpet the command, “Fix bayonets! Boys, we will try cold steel on them.” It was then, the writer must acknowledge, he felt the need of help and a great deal of help. The enemy must have heard the command, for they halted and we were not sorry that they did. It was now that we heard a heavy tramping in our rear and looking back beheld a long line of Confederates headed by “Fighting Frank Cheatham” as he was known in the army.

On opening our ranks to let them pass, one of Cheatham’s men remarked, “Let us at them, we’ll give them hell!” I believe that all our boys were perfectly willing to “let them at them.” In two or three minutes, they reached the enemy who had again fallen back to the thicket and from the roar of the rifles we knew that they were trying to keep their promise. The noise was like that of a thousand packs of heavy firecrackers turned loose at the same time. Soon our ears were greeted by the old familiar Rebel yell and we knew that the enemy was in full flight.

Based on Corporal Smith's recollection, hogs roaming through the cedar forest started to consume the multitudes of dead soldiers while the smoke of battle still hung heavy among the trees. 

The fighting now ceased for the day on the part of our division but we soon found that we had a far different enemy to contend with- a drove of wild hogs had commenced to devour the dead and wounded. They seemed perfectly crazed by the taste of human flesh. The writer saw several fighting over the arms and entrails of the dead. The wounded and dead were soon gathered up and it was necessary to put guards around them with fixed bayonets in order to keep off the hogs.

The next day, General Bragg, believing we had gained a great victory and that the enemy was retreating, but he was partly mistaken. We had gained a great victory and one to be proud of but the enemy had only fallen back in order to straighten out his line and to be in a better position. On the 2nd of January a part of his army crossed the river and taking position opened up a heavy enfilading cannonade against General Polk’s command. General Breckinridge, with his division, drove the enemy back over the river but encountering heavy odds was in turn driven back with considerable loss. Both armies now rested, each watching the other. On the night of the 3rd, after having skirmished and fought for five days in the rain and cold, the enemy received heavy reinforcements and General Bragg retreated to Tullahoma. So ended the first Battle of Murfreesboro.


To learn more about the Stones River campaign, please click on the link below to visit the Battle of Stones River page which includes links to all of the 100+ posts I've written about Stones River.

And be sure to pick your copy of my award-winning campaign study Hell by the Acre available through Savas Beatie! 

Source:

“An Interesting Sketch of the First Battle of Murfreesboro, Tenn.” Corporal Walter B. Smith, Co. F, 3rd Georgia Infantry Battalion, Montgomery Advertiser (Alabama), June 15, 1902, pg. 5

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