[Written in 1918]

True Story of the War

 

Henry V. Hoagland Tells of Battle of Ft. Donelson

 

General Thayer the Hero

 

Dashed in With Reinforcements and Saved the Day—Hurried

Flank Movement of Seventh Illinois.

 

            My regiment was the Seventh Illinois infantry, and at the time of which I write had never been under fire. We were attached to the third brigade of the second division of Grant's army. The division was commanded by General C. F. Smith, the brigade by Colonel John Cook, colonel of our regiment, Lieut. Colonel A. J. Babcock being in command of the regiment.

 

            Like all other inexperienced troops, we were spoiling for a fight. We had fully expected to participate in a battle at Fort Henry, but were disappointed. Commodore Foot with his gun-boats on the Tennessee river, had driven the enemy away before we could intercept them, and they escaped to Fort Donelson on the Cumberland river, eleven miles distant, much to our chagrin and disgust.

 

            We were encamped at Fort Henry about a week; very much disgruntled and disgusted because of what we considered a waste of time. However, early on the morning of February 12, 1862, we received the longed for marching orders and it was no secret that our destination was Fort Donelson.

 

            The camp at once presented a lively and interesting picture, drums beating, bugles sounding, mules braying, teamsters swearing, soldiers running hither and thither, pulling down tents, packing knapsacks, filling cartridge boxes, haversacks and canteens. Some were singing, some shouting and a few were growling.

 

A Camp Scene

 

            A guard comes in from a night of duty on the picket, tired, sleepy, hungry and cross. He finds the fire out, camp kettle kicked over and provisions packed. He pronounces a warm benediction upon the head of the company cook, then fills his tin cup with water, puts some cracked coffee in it, coaxing a little fire out of the dying embers, and placing his cup on it, declares most emphatically that orders or no orders, he never will march a step until he gets his coffee.

 

            Then came the command, "Fall in, fall in", emitted by a hundred official throats. A scene of excitement follows, men tumble over one another in their haste to seize their arms and accountrements and get into line. A clumsy fellow kicks poor Sam's coffee over just as he is about to take it from the fire, and dodges a club, hurled at his head with dangerous force, and the poor guard is compelled to shoulder his knapsack and get into ranks, all the while entertaining the company with a strain of forcible eloquence that almost taints the air with the fumes of burning /

 

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brimstone. Finally order is restored, companies and regiments and brigade, is soon in motion.

 

            The morning was bright, the air invigorating, and the boys in good health, and happy in the blissful ignorance of what was in store for them in the near future, stepped off proudly to the music of the bands, and the expression of every countenance evidenced their hearty enjoyment of the occasion. Even the fellow who lost his coffee had regained his good humor.

 

On The March

 

            The beginning of a march was always a joyful occasion. But soon the hills are encountered; the bands cease playing men lose the step; "Knapsacks get tired", and hang heavy; guns are carried in every conceivable shape and with heads down and backs bowed up, we climb wearily up the steep places, then down through the mud and water in the valleys, calling out occasionally in imitation of the steamboat men "quarter less twain", "nine feet", "no bottom"; stopping occasionally to lift on a heavily loaded wagon, or a section of a battery stuck in the mud, then climbing a hill puffing, sweating, hurrying to catch up with the main column, weary, wet and footsore, declaring with every breath that we will fall out and will not march another step, if they don't halt and give us a rest; but we keep right on, notwithstanding.

 

            Finally a halt is ordered and a few minutes allowed for refreshments. Some get out their tin cups, start a little fire and cook some coffee, while others improve their opportunity to rest, and are content with a hardtack and a slice of raw "sow bosom" with a pipe of tobacco as chaser.

 

            Soon after resuming our march we heard the boom of cannon as we supposed from the gunboats on the Cumberland river.

 

Sound of the First Shot

 

            The first shot has the effect to close up the ranks, quicken the step and cause us to forget our weariness. An anxious, expectant expression is visible on every countenance; the conversation turns on the prospect of a battle; most of us think that the old gunboats are too fast, and will spoil the whole business by driving the enemy out of Fort Donelson as they did out of Fort Henry before we could get into a position to stop them. Grant was severely criticized as incompetent, cowardly, afraid he would hurt somebody. Some thought he was just trying to scare the rebels into returning to their homes without giving us a battle. Many expressed the wish that the meddlesome gunboats had sunk before they reached Fort Donelson.

 

            The nearer we approached the greater was the anxiety, lest after all we would be cheated out of our fight. We were unanimously of the opinion that this was our last chance, as the fall of Fort Donelson would certainly end the war; and we were in danger of being sent home to be called "tin soldiers" because we had failed to discharge our guns in the face of the enemy.

 

            When early in the afternoon we went into camp for the night, our /

 

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indignation was increased. Not a man of us but knew, that if he were in command of the forces at hand as Grant was, he could whip the rebels and capture the fort before supper.

 

            While the regular army is simply a machine, the volunteer army is a machine with brains; and every man in it knows that he is capable of operating the machine if given the authority; and while he is willing to submit and allow himself to be controlled as a part of the machine, yet no military power was ever able to prevent him from exploiting his knowledge.

 

            After a quiet comfortable night in camp the morning of the 13^th of February, 1862 broke upon us clear and calm and beautiful; we breakfasted leisurely, undisturbed by any sound that would indicate the possibility of a conflict, and bets were freely offered that there was not a rebel within ten miles of us. We were finally ordered into line, and again took up the march.

 

            Soon after starting we were halted and ordered to divest ourselves of knapsacks and all surplus clothing and to place them in piles by the roadside to be gathered up by the company wagons. This looked encouraging. Just then we heard some artillery firing and the sound coming from the direction of the fort and concluded that after all some of the rebels, at least, had not succeeded in escaping.

 

            We left knapsacks, haversacks, canteens and overcoats with the expectation of camping within the rebel fort before dinner time, and again resumed the march. The band struck up the tune "The Girl I Left Behind Me", which caused a vision of golden tresses and sweet girlish faces, to divert our attention for a time from immediate surroundings.

 

            The ranks were closed, men caught the step and with heads erect, eyes to the front, chests thrown out and shoulders thrown back, we marched proudly forward in perfect order, as though we were on parade and conscious of the admiring gaze of those dear girls we left behind us.

 

Masked Battery Opens

 

            We were marching on the crest of a ridge with a narrow ravine on either side, when suddenly a blaze of fire and smoke, a tremendous roar, a terrible crash, a horrible screeching of deadly missiles, burst upon us from somewhere, whether from the heavens above or the earth beneath we were unable to tell. The earth shook beneath us, and the heavens above us were full of fiery demons, exploding and scattering slugs of metal all around us. Officers fell from their horses, men dropped their guns, some fell to the ground, some turned a double somersault over the brow of the hill on our right, some ran over, some crawled over, some rolled over, and some never knew how they did get over, but we found ourselves a confused mass, hugging the ground, hiding behind trees or bushes, with teeth chattering, faces white as chalk, hair standing straight up, eyes bulging out and flesh quivering. We were just simply scared; we never admitted even one to another, but it is a fact nevertheless; and if a /

 

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small company of rebs had appeared over the brow of that hill, they could have taken every one of us without firing another shot. This was our first introduction to the elephant.

 

An Official Flank Movement.

 

            The official reports describe it as follows:

            "The Seventh Illinois infantry was fired upon by a masked battery, at close range on their left, but Colonel Babcock with quick perception discovered the perilous situation of his regiment, and with the aid of Major Rowett succeeded in making a flank movement, passing from the battery's immediate front, to a safer and better position."

 

            It was a flank movement sure enough, but in advance of orders, and without the aid of anyone. Not even the order to halt was given, and some few among whom was an officer, failed to halt, after a safe position behind the hill had been reached, and never showed up until after the battle was over.

 

            While we were recovering our senses Birges' sharpshooters came up, displayed as skirmishers, and drove the rebel battery from the field.

 

            We thought our regiment was all cut to pieces, and soon those of us who were left began to look for our dead and wounded. In summing our casualties we found that but one man was killed, Captain Noah E. Midall of company I, shot through the head; none wounded, and but few missing. The range of the battery happened to be too high for deadly effect.

 

            Each fellow felt heartily ashamed of himself and the regiment, and inwardly resolved that he would never let a little thing like that scare him again, but not a word was said about it.

 

Battle Begins in Earnest.

 

            We were soon in line again and moved to the support of Richardsons' battery "D" of the First Missouri light artillery, which had taken a position and commenced practicing on the rebel batteries, drawing their fire. We had passed through the initiatory and the roar of cannon and bursting of shells did not scare us any longer, although many fell wounded or killed.

 

            Most of the fighting in our front during the day was done by the artillery. Birges' regiment of sharpshooters were very much in evidence. The squirrel tails in their caps could be seen jumping from stump to stump through the abattis, away out in the front, and the little columns of smoke arising here and there told us that they were busy. The roar of battle that reached our ears from the right of our line, convinced us at last that we were going to be accommodated with all the fighting that we had been longing for, and when we learned that the troops and floating batteries that were expected up to Cumberland had not yet reached us, we began wishing they were present to share with us the dangers as well as the horrors of the battle.

 

Night of Suffering.

 

            Toward night a cold rain set in. We began to get hungry, for we had no provisions, and we felt the need of our overcoats. It grew colder very /

 

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fast. As night came on the rain turned to sleet; we were drenched to the skin, our clothes frozen stiff; no fires possible, and suffering was intense. All night long wet, hungry, and freesing, we took turns in running up and down a hill to keep the blood in circulation. This night's suffering was worse than a hundred battles. Oh, what a long, terrible night, and how anxiously we watched for the dawn.

 

            Once in the night firing was heard a short distance to the right of us, and we were compelled to stand in line for an hour, with guns in hand ready to resist an expected assault. How we wished they would come, even death from a rebel bullet would have been welcomed by most of us.

 

            But there is an end of all things, and at last the streaks of gray began to appear on the eastern horizon. Never was morning light more welcome than the light of that morning of the fourteenth of February. It revealed to us frozen faces and ears, frozen hands, hair and clothes covered with ice, and, by the light of that cold, cheerless morning, we saw in each other the evidence of that night of agony, the seeds of that fraternal love and sympathy for a fellow soldier germinated in each one of our hearts, which developed in after experiences into the great principles "Fraternity, charity and loyalty", which bind together the men of the Grand Army of the Republic of today.

 

            In a short time a detail was sent to the rear for rations. Hard tack and "salt junk" or dried salt beef, some called it mince meat, was issued to us. We had no means of cooking it, so ate it raw.

 

            During the day of the fourteenth, with no opportunity for drying our garments, we were moved about from place to place, sometimes on the skirmish line, and sometimes supporting a battery, but nearly all the time under the fire of the enemy. No general engagement of our division took place. We learned with joy that the reinforcements, consisting of troops and gun boats, had reached us; and we listened to the sharp attack of the boats on the rebel fort this time without objection.

 

            The night of the fourteenth was another night of suffering. The weather had moderated some, but as we were still without overcoats or blankets we were compelled to keep moving all the time. There was no fighting during the night.

 

            The morning of the fifteenth was clear and the sun appeared, gladdening our hearts and warming our bodies. We were also permitted, one company at a time, to move back into a ravine, build fires and cook some coffee, and bacon, that was issued to us. The fire on the outside and hot black coffee on the inside soon rendered us comfortable. We were then placed on the skirmish line, where we were kept busy dodging whistling bullets, and furnishing other whistling bullets for the enemy to dodge, until afternoon, when we were ordered back to the main line.

 

            The battle was raging fiercely at the right of us. McClernand's division was bearing the brunt of it. It soon became known that the enemy was making a desperate effort to break through the line; which we knew would endanger our position and give them a decided advantage. /

 

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            McClernand's men stood up bravely, and resisted the terrible onslaught of the enemy until their ammunition was exhausted, when they were driven back with great loss. Here was the climax of the battle.

 

Reinforcements Arrive

 

            Everyone was breathless from anxiety; there seemed to be nothing to prevent that howling mass of desperate men from plunging through the depleted ranks, capturing our batteries, turning them upon us from the rear, and causing the battle of Fort Donelson to become a repetition of "Bull Run" when, just at the supreme moment, there appeared a brigade of six regiments coming up out of a ravine on the run, headed by an officer, who appeared wholly oblivious to the storm of shot and shell, that swept furiously over and around him, or to the gleam of the double ranks of bayonets that were moving rapidly toward him, until he planted his brigade of brave, determined me, into the gap left by the giving way of McClernand's men, where standing like a wall of fire, they repulsed the fierce charge of the enemy and drove them back over their entrenchments, and saved the day for the union forces.

 

General Thayer Saves the Day

 

            We soon learned that the intrepid officer commanding this brigade was Colonel John M. Thayer of the First Nebraska, our own late lamented distinguished citizen, whose honored remains we assisted in laying away in Wyulka Cemetery only a few months ago.

 

            Immediately after this incident our division was ordered to advance on the works of the enemy. Lamman's brigade was soon engaged in a fierce battle, and our regiment was sent to reinforce them.

 

            Over the hill through the abattis, exposed to a muderous fire, we double quicked to where the Second Iowa and an Indiana regiment were holding a position near the enemy's works, against an enemy that was being reinforced every minute, and under a galling fire from a battery occupying a commanding position on a hill within the rebel works. Our regiment here moved on the right into line, executing the movements in such a manner as to call forth a compliment from General C. F. Smith, who remarked as he rode up to Colonel Babcock, "I never saw a regiment execute such grand movements under such a fire in all my life as yours has just made, and I thank God for your command at this moment."

 

Charge Ordered

 

            Then, pointing to the rebel battery, he said, "Colonel, take that battery; charge in with your steel." Bayonets were fixed and every man was nerved for the charge, when the general turned and said, "Hold; I countermand that order; it is too late in the day. I will give you that work to do in the morning."

 

            We then moved forward and almost simultaneous with the Second Iowa, who claims to be the first to plant the stars and stripes on the enemy's works, we charged over, the rebels flying from in front of us. One poor, long-haired butternut, was caught behind the works in front of our company,

 

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and was dragged out by the hair. He had in his hand a large corn knife, which I secured and afterwards sent home as a relic. We held our position undisturbed during the night, and obtained some rest, which we very much needed.

 

            The break of day on Sunday the sixteenth of February found us sore and stiff, hardly able to move and in a desperate frame of mind. We ate the dry breakfast that we had—hard tack and raw meat—in almost absolute silence. Every man appeared absorbed in thought. We began at once to make careful preparations for the work that was before us; and we replenished our ammunition, cleaned and examined our arms; an expression of determination settled upon every countenance, and as we were ordered into line awaiting orders that determination found expression in remarks such as, "Boys, let's make quick work of it today, let's take that fort or die, I would rather be shot down this minute than stay here another night."

 

News of the Surrender

 

            Suddenly we heard a shout, and looking around saw Colonel Babcock riding rapidly toward us, waving his hat and shouting, "Boys, they have surrendered. Fort Donelson with twenty thousand prisoners is ours." At that instant we heard the cheering on our right; cheer after cheer rent the air, hats were flying in every direction, tears of joy were streaming down the cheeks of nearly every soldier; many were hugging and kissing each other, and everyone gave expression in some way to the joy that was in his heart.

 

            Soon the regimental band appeared. It had been invisible since the rude interruption on the morning of the thirteenth, and we marched proudly into the rebel stronghold to find them standing in ranks, with arms stacked, waiting to receive us. We went into camp in their barracks, found an abundance of flour, meat and molasses; and were soon feasting on flapjacks and molasses, fried ham and coffee, rejoicing over the victory, rehearsing the incidents, expressing our sorrow for the wounded, and recounting the virtues of the dead.

 

            I do not remember and have not looked up the record of casualties to know just what our losses were, but I do know that they were insignificant as campared with the losses by sickness and death afterwards that resulted from exposure and fatigue on the field of battle.

 

Henry V. Hoagland

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