Grab a Root! With the 111th Ohio at Nashville

The Confederate line had buckled and was in full retreat at Nashville on December 16, 1864, when Corporal Virgil Harris of the 111th Ohio saw a “chance to earn his $13 a month.”

          Not far ahead, he spied a Confederate trying to haul away a “beautiful artillery piece.” He wrote, “I rushed upon the man with the cannon and seized one of his horses by the rein and ordered him to dismount. This he declined to do and proceeded to rap me over the head with the loose end of the reins at the same time urging his team forward to break loose from a heavy wagon against which his wheel had caught. By this time, Barr had arrived and stood near me and I felt then extremely bold. The man making no demonstration calculated to convince me that he intended to dismount, I determined to use the whole power vested in me by the Constitution of the United States. Accordingly, I gave him a blow which sent him tumbling over between the horses. My gun not being loaded, he slipped out under the off-horse and started down the pike as fast as his feet could carry him. Neither Barr nor myself ever went on another 'side campaign' without loading our guns.”

Corporal Harris’s account of Nashville first saw publication in Brigadier General Richard Johnson’s A Soldier’s Reminiscences in Peace and War first published in 1886.

Corporal (later Orderly Sergeant) Virgil H. Harris, Co. B, 111th Ohio Volunteer Infantry 


At the battle of Nashville, the Army of the Ohio commanded by General John M. Schofield had fought its way into position on the right and lay on the morning of the [December] 16th in line of battle facing to the east at right angles with General A.J. Smith’s 16th Army Corps and parallel to the Granny White Pike. From this position we were in full view of the Harpeth and Brentwood ranges or hills. We had prepared our frugal meal long before the dawn of day and at sunrise could plainly see the Rebels on the timber-covered slopes not far away. We were cautioned to remain concealed as much as possible and not to fire under any circumstances.

          But our position was discovered and a Rebel battery opened upon us would have been had they fallen and exploded in our ranks. When the whizzing sound of a shell was heard, the usual cry of ‘Grab a root,’ ran through the line, the effect of which was to induce the braves to adopt the doctrine of squatter sovereignty without question. As time wore on, each warrior loved his country more in fact for they hugged it, embraced it, felt as if they wanted to get right down into it, at least far enough to shelter them from the fire of the enemy.

          About noon, the firing of the cavalry on our right was music to our ears for we knew enough of the country to know that our men were in possession of or very near to the pike on the south of the Brentwood hills. On the other side of the low ridge occupied by us was one still lower upon which ran a slight elevation of earth which mat have been at some time a hedge. It was high enough to hide the form of a man on a level plain and we were told that we were to occupy it as our next position.

          At the given signal the entire line moved rapidly and occupied it without firing a shot. Here we were concealed from the view of the Rebels. As soon as this movement was accomplished our old position was occupied by 30 pieces of artillery which opened up a most terrific cannonade upon the Rebel works not over 300 yards distant. The shots and shells from our own guns tore the tops and limbs from the huge oaks in our front and rear. One large limb fell on our company and spread its whole length, the heavy end striking James Bemis and knocking him senseless. Another came near killing James Carter while the switch end struck me just below the cartridge box, calling to mind by school-boy days. A charge of buckshot could not have pained me more than did the switching that limb gave me.

The Federal army in line at Nashville 


          The smoke of the cannons settled in the valley, enveloping us and concealing from our view both friends and foes. And now the rattle of musketry, like an unceasing hailstorm, kept time with the deafening roar of artillery. The earth and the mighty oaks trembled and shook again with the echo that came back from Brentwood’s quivering crest. The Confederate works were levelled with solid shots and their brave defenders lay crouched to earth. No Rebel yell arose above the deafening din. The stars and bars were furled forever, and freedom’s flag waved in triumph over the bloody field.

          The pass through the Brentwood Range, through which the Granny White pike was made, was in plain view. No field of battle ever presented a landscape so plain, so beautiful as this. Our artillery had not only ruined the defenses of the enemy but had dashed the timbers to splinters on the sides of the hill beyond. Shots, shells, and Minie balls had driven the teamsters and skulkers in the Rebel rear to wild desperation. There was no escape for them except by the pike and now, in a moment’s lull, there came a living stream from east and west which meeting on the pike, broke pell-mell for the Southern confederacy.

This host was governed by no order, but there in view of friend and foe they lashed their jaded steeds in a furious race towards the Brentwood Pass. As soon as this movement was discovered, our artillery opened upon the fugitives and in their rapid flight, they so closed up that it was simply impossible for them to move. Many abandoned their wagons, mules, and horses, then fled for safety in the hills. Bull Run never presented such utter demoralization as was visible in the Rebel rear.

          The victorious Federals required no order to advance. With a yell that seemed to shake the foundation of the everlasting hills, 10,000 men from older fields than this rushed forward in pursuit of a beaten enemy. The war in the west was ended. So sudden was the change in the form of government in the eyes of our late foes that they laughed and clapped their hands, more pleased than we were over the situation. I heard one lean, lank cadaverous prisoner say, “You licked us at Franklin because you had more to eat than we had. Can’t you give me a cracker?” We divided our rations. Why, bless your soul, we would have given them the coats off our backs. No shout of victory was raised over the surrendered foe.

          And now came a small campaign not laid down in Pap Thomas’ original plan of battle. Several hundred yards in front of what had been the Rebel rear lay immense quantities of broken and abandoned war materials of Hood’s invincible legion for men were never braver than they. Thomas Barr, my chum and messmate, accompanied me as it was the duty of every soldier to get there. About 100 yards from our line and on the left of the pike, my eyes fell upon a picture, not painted, that I shall never forget. An old citizen appears to have entered the Rebel lines for the purpose of selling milk. He was seated in an old-fashioned one-horse shay. The horse had been instantly killed by a cannon ball. The old man was dead and had fallen forward and hung over two large milk cans and, in his hands, he held the reins. I raised his face but all was still. The milk was wasting through holes made by Minie balls and slowly dropping through the loose bottom of the vehicle.

Lt. Col. Isaac R. Sherwood
111th O.V.I. 

          Barr laid his gun down and seemed indisposed to push his investigation any further, but soon realized the necessity of prompt action, and onward we journeyed. We were not long in reaching the point for which we started. Here we had a fair view of the horrors of war. Dead men were strewn upon the ground on a common level with dead horses and mules. There we saw horses and mules uninjured, but held in place by a dead or badly-wounded mate and I could read the despair in these poor, dumb brutes.

          A short distance off I saw three Rebels working like demons removing obstructions towards the left while up close to them and near the fence rode a graycoat with two horses drawing off a beautiful piece of artillery. It occurred to me that it was a good opportunity for me to earn my $13 a month and I resolved then and there to capture that gun. I charged upon the lingering quartet and demanded their surrender in the usual pleasant army form. The three working heroes in front jumped over the fence and were soon out of sight. I rushed upon the man with the cannon and seized one of his horses by the rein and ordered him to dismount. This he declined to do and proceeded to rap me over the head with the loose end of the reins at the same time urging his team forward to break loose from a heavy wagon against which his wheel had caught.

By this time, Barr had arrived and stood near me and I felt then extremely bold. The man making no demonstration calculated to convince me that he intended to dismount, I determined to use the whole power vested in me by the Constitution of the United States. Accordingly, I gave him a blow which sent him tumbling over between the horses. My gun not being loaded, he slipped out under the off-horse and started down the pike as fast as his feet could carry him. Neither Barr nor myself ever went on another side campaign without loading our guns.

Back to camp we went with our captures, meeting on the way our colonel Isaac Sherwood who thanked us for what we had done and promised that our prowess should be suitably announced in orders. But as we did not occupy the same camp two successive nights for five months, there was no time for making out congratulatory orders. This battle closed the rebellion in the Southwest.

Source:

Letter from Corporal [later Orderly Sergeant] Virgil Homer Harris, Co. B, 111th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, as quoted from Richard W. Johnson’s A Soldier’s Reminiscences in Peace and War. Philadelphia: J.P. Lippincott, 1886, pgs. 293-298

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