Tramps and Triumphs of the 2nd Iowa: Part III- Corinth
In the spring of 1885, the Omaha Bee newspaper in Nebraska ran a 12-part series of articles written by John T. Bell of the 2nd Iowa Volunteer Infantry covering the entirety of his service with that regiment.
A resident of Omaha at the time of his enlistment, he joined the ranks of Co. C on December 2, 1861, at the tender age of 19. He would survive the war with the rank of second lieutenant and 20 years after his discharge penned these reminiscences. The following year, these articles were published in book form as Tramps and Triumphs of the 2nd Iowa Infantry.
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| Battery Robinett in 1863 |
The night of
October 3, 1862, found our lines encircling Corinth and but a few hundred yards
distant. Whiskey was brought out in barrels, the heads knocked in, and the men
told to help themselves. It was the general supposition that the place would be
captured and arrangements were made to burn the immense commissary and
quartermaster stores collected there. Our forces were commanded by General
William S. Rosecrans who had been defeated by Van Dorn at Iuka, Mississippi two
weeks previously and the Union army had little confidence in his military
skill.
Notwithstanding the abundance of
whiskey during the night few men drank to excess. We knew that a big battle
would be fought on the morrow and the men had no disposition to add to their
desperate situation by getting drunk. In town, all was uproar and confusion,
stores and dwellings were broken open and our colored cooks returned to our
bivouac loaded with crackers, cheese, ginger snaps, sardines, canned fruits, etc.
as their share of the plunder so easily obtained.
At midnight we fell in line and the
regiment marched from the south to the west side of town and took position
on a ridge from which the ground
gradually sloped to the westward with considerable open space in front, a
portion of which was covered with fallen trees, an abatis formed by the Confederates
when they held Corinth and Halleck was approaching it by slow degrees.
Ay daylight our company [C] was sent
out in advance as skirmishers and took position behind scattering trees about
300 yards in front of the regiment. It was a beautiful day and as the sun rose
clear and bright it was difficult to believe that two armies of about 40,000
men lay within a short distance of each other even then arranging for battle.
To the left, on a commanding point, were Batteries Robinett and Phillips, heavy
earthworks surrounded by deep ditches and manned by heavy siege guns so trained
as to completely sweep the space in front for a great distance and thought to
be impregnable. An occasional shot is fired in our front by the Rebel
skirmishers in a lazy kind of way to which we respond in like manner.
The sun rises higher and higher and we
sought shady places, keeping a lookout for developments. At 10:30 there is a
stir among the enemy’s skirmishers and the bullets fall around us in a lively
fashion. We are sheltered behind scattering trees so that no one is hit. Five
minutes later the cry is heard, “Here they come!” and a line of battle composed
of six regiments marches out of the woods directly in front of us, followed by
others of equal strength and moves swiftly towards us. The commands of their
officers are plainly heard and as it was not the intention that one company of
the 2nd Iowa should repel an attack by the entire Rebel army, we “about
face” and fell back on our main line, still deployed as skirmishers.
Spit, zip, bang, spat! The musket balls
fly past us and our common time develops into quick and that into double quick.
We pass rapidly up the hill which seems entirely unoccupied, save by a battery
of 12-pdr brass pieces ready for work the instance we have passed behind it.
Just over the crest of the hill, we find the ground covered with bluecoats, the
main part of our army being concentrated at this point awaiting the attack, the
men lying flat on the earth.
We rushed to our proper place in the
regiment and dropped down as the Rebel musket balls cut the ground all around
us. A bullet passed across my hip and plunges through the body of Private
Downs, lying behind me in the rear rank, killing him instantly. Meanwhile, the
enemy has swept up the hill, captured the battery referred to, and turned it on
us. There is so much confusion and excitement when we rise to our feet that
before we can advance the enemy is upon us and we fell back and form a new line
500 yards in the rear.
Here we reorganize and move forward
with a cheer, recover the crest of the hill, recapture our battery, and drive
the enemy back down the slope with terrible slaughter. Our ammunition is soon
exhausted but an abundant supply is furnished by the cartridge boxes of the
dead and wounded lying all about us. Here Cearly, who was one of the few who
drank too much of the whiskey so plentifully dealt out, made his appearance in
the company for the first time since the night before, unarmed and demoralized
to the last degree. Bursting into tears, he rushed from one comrade to another
exclaiming, “Give me a bayonet while I shoot somebody!” A bullet passed through
the high hat of Sergeant Harry McNeil and in speaking of it afterwards he said,
“You boys have made fun of my high hat, but you see it has saved my life for if
I had a low-crowned hat on that ball would have gone through my head.”
In the meantime, Battery Robinett has
been stormed by a heavy force which moves across the open space in full view of
the position we occupy. No braver or more desperate assault was ever made and
as the shot and shells of the siege guns accurately trained by months of skillful
practice tore dreadful gaps in the ranks of the enemy with the only effect of
causing them to close up these gaps and press relentlessly forward, apparently
as devoid of fear as wooden men. I thought “these are not human beings, they
are devils.” On they go, the ground shaking under our feet with the firing of
artillery, pausing not an instant, onward, still onward. They reach a point so
near the earthworks that the big guns cannot be depressed enough to do harm
then rush pell mell into the ditch, 12 feet deep and 15 feet across with
sloping bands. They clamber up the far side, capture the position, and drive
our gunners from their places and turn the big guns against us. Magnificent
daring; courage unsurpassed in the annals of warfare, but all in vain.
Battery Phillips commands Battery Robinett and hurls into the small space a shower of shot and shell which cannot be withstood, aided by the fire of many field guns which have, in the meantime, been trained upon that band of heroes and the few remaining alive are forced to surrender. The entire attack has proven a failure and son the Rebel flag has disappeared from our front and we go down among the fallen trees to assist the wounded. At one point I met a tall Confederate coming up the road with one leg hanging useless and using two muskets for crutches. The thigh of his left leg had been shattered by an exploded shells and after receiving directions as to where he could find a surgeon, he moved off, the noise of the broken ends of the bons distinctly heard as they were thrown past each other by the winging limb, refusing all offers of aid from stretcher bearers.
Source:
“War
Recollections: The Closing Battle at Corinth-Desperate Assault on Robinett,”
Corporal John Thomas Bell, Co. C, 2nd Iowa Volunteer Infantry, Omaha
Evening Bee (Omaha, Nebraska), March 28, 1885, pg. 4


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