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Posted on 11/19/2003 12:00:15 AM PST by SAMWolf
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 are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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| Our Mission: The FReeper Foxhole is dedicated to Veterans of our Nation's military forces and to others who are affected in their relationships with Veterans.
Where the Freeper Foxhole introduces a different veteran each Wednesday. The "ordinary" Soldier, Sailor, Airman or Marine who participated in the events in our Country's history. We hope to present events as seen through their eyes. To give you a glimpse into the life of those who sacrificed for all of us - Our Veterans.
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THE SMOKE OF SHILOH. Thirty-nine years ago, April 6th, 1862,1 was fought one of the bloodiest battles that ever occurred on this continent, called by the Confederates the Battle of Shiloh, from a large log church somewhat to the left of the centre of our line of battle, which was used by General Beauregard as his headquarters. But to begin this tale of the long ago, I will say I was a member at that time of Company C, Wirt Adams's Cavalry; a regiment composed of companies from Alabama, Mississippi and Louisana. Our Company was raised chiefly in Choctaw County, Alabama, with contingents from both Washington and Clarke Counties. One of the commissioned officers, Lieutenant White, was from Washington County. The Company was raised early in the summer of 1861 and organized at Mt. Sterling, Alabama, with F. Y. Gaines, captain; W. W. Long, W. P. Cheney and — White, lieutenants.  Our services had been offered through the governor of the State to the Confederate government. We were fully equipped with Sharp's rifles, sabers, Colt's army revolvers, and the regular U. S. dragoon saddles. Our uniform was a heavy gray cassimere, with the proper trimmings incident to that branch of the service. This equipment, including the uniforms, was presented to the company by Colonel Sam Ruffin, of Choctaw County; hence the name by which we were known, "Ruffin Dragoons." The ladies of Mt. Sterling and its vicinity—women of blessed memory—met from day to day in the Masonic hall of the village, until every member was furnished with a handsome uniform. Nearly every man furnished his own horse; some were supplied by the more wealthy citizens of the county; others again were complimented by being presented with finer animals than they possessed, or horses more fitted for the hard service they were destined to endure—notably, as I remember, Captain Gaines was presented by Hon. Frank Lyon, of Demopolis, with a fine sorrel. The equipment furnished by Colonel Ruffin, I was informed, cost him about $30,000. How well I remember the day when we left Mt. Sterling for the front, the 25th of September, 1861. Nearly all of us were young men and boys just from school. The officers were older, and Captain Gaines had seen service in Mexico as an officer of U. S. dragoons. This, of course, gave some prestige, and lent us some prominence in the regiment to which we were assigned. I, myself, was fresh from the class-room, with no experience whatever of any of the ruder sides of life.  Confederate Charge upon Prentiss's Camp on Sunday morning We went from Mt. Sterling to Lauderdale, Mississippi, where we were loaded on trains for Memphis, Tennessee. There we were enrolled "for the war in the Confederate service." We went by way of Nashville to Bowling Green, Kentucky, and became a part of General A. S. Johnston's army confronting Buell, the Federal commander in that part of the State. Here we joined other companies, and Wirt Adams's Cavalry Regiment was formed. We were drilled in company and regimental tactics, picketing the front and doing scouting duties. Early in February, 1862, the Federals, not desiring to force Johnston's position, commenced flanking movements by way of the Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers, pushing their gunboats up those streams, and gaining the battle of Fort Donelson, where the Confederate General Buckner surrendered a considerable force. This made it apparent that the withdrawal of the army from Bowling Green was imperative.  Conference of Confederate commanders the night before the battle From left to right, General P G. T Beauregard, General L. Polk (seated), General John C. Breckinridge, General A. S. Johnston, General Braxton Bragg, and Major J. F Gilmer, General W J. Hardee was not present. After the Battle of Fort Donelson, General Grant pushed his forces further south to the vicinity of Pittsburg, a small village on the Tennessee River, not more than twenty-five miles from Corinth, Mississippi, where the Confederates were rapidly gathering to oppose his advance. At this particular place, General Johnston came prominently into view before the country and the world. His methods and strategy had been severely criticized by a part of the Southern press. Mile after mile of the country had been given up without a blow, and apparently it was not understood or approved. It was said a delegation even went to Richmond and demanded the general's removal. But Mr. Davis said to them "if Albert Sidney Johnston is not a general, I have none; so they got back in time to see one of the masterly moves of the war—one by which undoubtedly the conqueror of Lee at Appomattox would have been relegated to the shades had not death overtaken Johnston on the evening of April 6, 1862. Three days' rations were ordered in the haversacks, and our regiment took the road in the direction of Monterey. I think this was Wednesday, the 3d of April. Other roads leading in that direction were choked with moving masses of men, infantry, and artillery, with their necessary trains of ordnance and commissary stores. The weather had been rainy and the roads were bad. Who of us that was there and toiled through that rain and mud can ever forget it?  General Albert Sidney Johnston, CSA On the morning of the 5th of April, Company C of Wirt Adams's Regiment was ordered to report to the commanding general for escort duty. Our uniforms were new and our horses in good condition, and altogether we did not make a bad appearance. Well do I recollect the look of wonder and inquiry that swept over young and beardless faces when we heard the words of the order. We knew of the lonely vigil on the far out picket post, the firing line on the skirmish front, scouting, and so on, but the idea of being escort to the head of the army brought up all sorts of questions, and our officers were plied with inquiries. Right here let us notice some conditions that always held between the Confederate private and his officers. Off duty, we all were free and easy. Even on duty, except on drill and parade, there ran all through the army an easy tolerance that lent itself so admirably to both rank and file when the individualism of the soldier was demanded in hottest battle; when lines irregularly rushed to the charge, or beaten back, would suddenly nerve themselves to a stand and again rush forward—not shoulder to shoulder, or elbows touching, as we often read in fancy sketches, but every man and officer acting, as it were, individually, and each feeling as if the result depended upon himself alone. So in camp the license of the soldier was controlled by the "morale" of the man, and hence the proverbial easy intercourse between officers and men. However, we soon found out our duties as a general's escort, though our lot together, alas, was too short. The night of the 5th of April, General Johnston bivouacked in a skirt of woods near an old field, an infantry line of battle just in front and extending through the dense woods and thickets to right and left, with batteries of field artillery just in the rear and occupying assigned positions given them by the staff.  From early in the day, General Johnston had been anxious for the more prompt arrival of the troops. Delay after delay occurred. Staff officers had been sent back to urge haste, but it developed that the two corps of Bragg and Polk had become entangled with each other, on account of the narrow muddy roads, and the miring ordnance and artillery teams, and a part of one of these commands had to diverge into the woods and cut a new road before the forward movement could be hastened. It was evident that the attack was to begin on the arrival of the troops in position, and but for this delay the battle would have opened on Saturday. What might have been the result had the plans of the general been caried out can now only be left to conjecture. Certain it is, Buell would not have been in reach, for on that day his army was nearly twenty-five miles away, and the history of the second day would not so have been written, and General Grant would not have been at Appomattox to receive General Lee's surrender. But I am anticipating. The escort bivouacked near the general's headquarters. Our slim rations in the haversacks were exhausted, and our commissary wagon was far in the rear. Sentinels were detailed under a proper officer and thrown around the general's tent; night and quiet had settled down immediately around us. Only the distant tramp of detailed detachments as they hurried to join their respective brigades, or the peculiar rumble of some battery of artillery, until then delayed in the mud, struck the ear. Silence had been enjoined on the troops, and no one can forget the weird effect and impressions made upon one, silently gazing through the gloom of the woods on the still ranks of men lying upon their arms, with the flags and guidons hanging limp on their staffs, and the long lines dimmer to the eye as night fell upon the scene. The night was dark and damp, and the April wind stirring the boughs of the tall trees sang in the hearts of many men that lay beneath, as they thought of home, a dirge of death.  Brigadier-General John C. Breckenridge. From a photograph by Geo. S. Cook Our sentinels, in regular reliefs, guarded headquarters. All were hungry. Our horses had no corn, and our men no bread. R. M. Hearin, of Bladon Springs, Alabama, was on guard that night, his relief coming on in the early morning, and I have heard him tell how the early breakfast of the staff affected him. They would throw away crusts of bread and bits of crackers as they talked, and as his regular beat caried him near the circle of officers, who sat or stood around the camp chest, he would pick up some of the rejected crusts and munch and listen as he walked. Towards morning, general officers had been gathering at the headquarters, and daylight revealed a historic group. Some had come voluntarily, some had been summoned by courier. Mr. Hearin says, hungry and fagged out as he was, he was exceedingly interested by the tense but subdued manner of the group. The argument even then was for or against a general attack. It seems that all the officers did not agree with General Johnston, notably the second in command, who favored a forced reconnaissance, and then dealing with details as they developed. About six o'clock, still early for the cloudy April morning, and whilst they still ate crackers and sipped coffee, some talking, General Johnston mainly a listener, the heavy denseness of the air was jarred by an ominous sound apparently not far off. All knew what it meant. General Johnston was standing erect, if I remember rightly, when the roar of the gun broke upon his ear. He immediately faced the group and said, "Gentlemen, the ball has opened; no time for argument now," or words to that effect, and asking an officer to note the time, he immediately called for his horse. "Boots and saddles" for our company was sounded, and we sprang into the saddle. How well I remember the mien and manner of General Hardee, as he quitted the group and made for his horse held a short distance away by an orderly. His form was erect; his stride long but regular; and as he walked he gathered up his trailing sword, and tucking it under his arm so reached his horse.  At a gallop he went in the direction of his command, which was mainly to our left, as I now recall these incidents. A portion of the troops that were near us had silently moved forward in the night. Perhaps the whole line moved forward; I do not know, but I remember we had several hundred yards to ride in the direction we took before we came in sight of the lines now fully engaged. Immediately following the opening gun, portions of lines seemed to me to commence firing by volleys. Then the division to which we were advancing became engaged all at once; the file-firing seemed continuous, as if the men were engaged in close and steady duel. The artillery to right and left of us and in front also had now awakened to a continual volume of sound—no stop, no intermission. Now, for the first time, I heard the sound of "dread artillery," for almost immediately the enemy responded with every available gun, and round shot and shell came through or over the ranks in a storm. The mists of the morning were heavy, and the smoke clinging close to the ground made it difficult to see ten paces in front.  The Hornets Nest I shall remember the first wounded man I saw as we passed in. He was half reclining near the foot of an oak tree with an awful wound in his stomach, made apparently by a fragment of a shell, a portion of his bowels protruding and partly lying on the ground. Evidently he had just been wounded, for as General Johnston stopped to talk to him a moment, his eyes were bright and face animated as he was telling the general how the Yankees broke and fled at the first fire. General Johnston ordered the surgeon who was along with us to stop and give him some attention.
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Always welcome here.
So true. It was a sad read. Looking for a lighter note I found this wonderful statement to give me a chuckle from our story today.
And so it was, east and west, the same wild music of our tattered ranks always carried consternation to the foe. With the Yankees, it was entirely different. Their slogan seemed to be perfunctory. It was "huzza-huzza," and sometimes "hip-hip-huzza," especially in the earlier days of the war. However, toward the close of the war, they too learned to "holler" in some sort of civilized way.
The bolding of text is mine. I just love the comment, so sincere and "matter of fact". LOL.
Today's classic warship, USS North Dakota (BB-29)
Delaware class battleship
displacement. 20,000 t.
length. 518'9"
beam. 85'3"
draft. 26'11"
speed. 21 k.
complement. 933
armament. 10 12", 14 5", 4 3-pdrs., 2 21" tt.
North Dakota (BB-29) was laid down 16 December 1907 by Fore River Shipbuilding Co., Quincy, Mass.; launched 10 November 1908; sponsored by Miss Mary Benton; and commissioned at Boston 11 April 1910, Comdr. Charles P. Plunkett in command.
In her first years North Dakota operated with the Atlantic Fleet in maneuvers along the East Coast and in the Caribbean. She sailed 2 November 1910 for her first Atlantic crossing, visiting England and France prior to winter-spring maneuvers in the Caribbean. In the summers of 1912 and 1913 she carried Naval Academy midshipmen for training in New England waters, and on 1 January 1913 she joined the honor escort for Natal as the Brazilian ship entered New York harbor with the body of the late Whitelaw Reid, United States Ambassador to Brazil.
As Mexican political disturbances strained relations with the United States, North Dakota sailed for Vera Cruz, where she arrived 26 April 1914, five days after American sailors had occupied the city. She cruised the coast of Mexico to protest Americans and their interests until a more stable government took office, and returned to Norfolk 16 October. An even more intensive program of training was taken up by the Atlantic Fleet as war threatened, and North Dakota was in Chesapeake Bay for gunnery drills when the United States entered World War I.
Throughout the war, North Dakota operated in the York River, Va., and out of New York training gunners and engineers for the expanding fleet. Then, on 13 November 1919, she stood out of Norfolk to carry home the remains of the late Italian Ambassador to the United States. While in the Mediterranean she sailed at Athens, Constantinople, Valencia, and Gibraltar before returning to the Caribbean for the annual spring maneuvers. In the summer of 1921, she took part in the Army-Navy bombing tests off the Virginia Capes in which the German warships Frankfurt and Ostfriesland were sunk to demonstrate the potentialities of airpower. She interrupted fleet operations during the next two summers to again cruise with midshipmen, contributing to the future strength of the Navy by educating its officers-to-be. The cruise of 1923 took her to Scandinavia, Scotland, and Spain.
North Dakota decommissioned at Norfolk 22 November 1923. Her name was struck from the Navy List 7 January 1931, and she was sold for scrapping 16 March 1931.
Big Guns in Action!
Don't expect an answer from me. :)
aomagrat - excellent shots of the big guns!
<===Mash This
We sure can be thankful for the preservation of these historical journals . . . it honors those who fought so hard for what they believed in. Gen. Johnston was a soldier's general.
The beginning of the Stalingrad fiasco.
From August 23, when German Sixth Army forces, commanded by General Friedrich Paulus, reached the Volga at Stalingrad, Soviet and German infantry fought a long, house-to-house battle for the city. The occupying Russian army was fanatical. It contested every street and factory, whether still standing or totally destroyed. Territory which the Germans, with their superior fire power, had won by day was regained by night.
At the same time Soviet armies, ultimately numbering an estimated 1 million men, built up. On 19 November, preceded by an enormous barrage, forces under General Zhukov attacked on both German flanks. Within 5 days they had executed a pincer movement that encircled 250,000-300,000 German and satellite troops - the besiegers were besieged. Hitler forbade Paulus from attempting to break out to the rear, which he might have done early in the encirclement.
Goering promised him an airlift which never materialised. A relief army stalled in December and rations had to be reduced. Ammunition was running low. In January the Russians called on von Paulus to surrender. Hitler ordered him to refuse, made him a Field Marshal and informed him that no German Field Marshal had ever been taken alive.
The German position was now hopeless. Troops slowly froze, starved and ran out of ammunition. Paulus's forces were divided into two parts by a Russian thrust. By 30 January he was trapped in the basement of the large department store in Stalingrad where he had set up his final HQ. To Hitler's disappointment he preferred to surrender and live: on 2 February he and his staff gave themselves up. By then 70,000 Germans had died in Stalingrad. The Russians took 91,000 prisoners, including twenty-four German generals. Only 6000 ever returned. Hitler himself said, 'The god of war has gone over to the other side'.
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