Sundown In The West

It was a long trip back to the 19th Century but I manage to find and join my unit, 2nd Company, 47th Tennessee Infantry, Vaughn's (1st) Brigade, Brown's (1st) Division, Army of Tennessee already in the field near Spring Hill Tennessee around noon on the 1st of October. We almost immediately began a forced march ending at sunset near the Rippavilla Plantation. No sooner than had the regiment bedded down for a chilly evening nervous pickets began to shoot into the night. The long role was sounded and the regiment, by company, was sent stumbling into the dark to support the picket outposts. After much stumbling around and a little burned powder there was nothing to show but some scared deer and rabbits. We finally stumbled back into our bivouac and slept on arms. Reveille broke our slumber in the still dark of night. The division was formed and the forced march was resumed without a hint of dawn in the east. After several hours on the march we found ourselves deployed against the federal left near Spring Hill. They were entrenched and heavily supported by Artillery, we formed and advanced in line of battle against the foe. We held the extreme right of line and advanced directly into the maws of the federal guns. We advance throughout the maelstrom of canister and drove the gun crews from their weapons as the rest of our brigade drove the invaders from their works. The field behind us crawled with dead, dying and flotsam of battle. Yet the federals escaped in good order as we were to spent to pursue the fleeing enemy. The remainder of the morning was spent recovering our wounded, issuing rations, and refilling cartidge boxes and canteens. By midday the long role sounded once again and the division moved out towards Franklin in pursuit of the federals. We marched throughout the day and by late afternoon the Army was concentrating within two miles of the enemies formidable works. We had out run our artillery train and the General decided not to wait. The assault soon began. We were last Brigade and were in the center. Cleburne's division advanced on our right and the rest of the Army behind them and on our left. They were magnificent as they advanced upon those formidable works. We began our advance and it seemed like it took and eternity as we crossed the field under constant fire from federal batteries and rifles from the works. We closed upon the enemies works and with a yell we charged them. We fell back and charged again this time we breached the enemies works and were among them. I launched myself at the nearest Yank and felled him with cold steel, his compatriots were upon me and I was using my Enfield and a club but they dragged me down. It took a few minutes for me to realize what had happened. Myself and my nearest Pards were the only ones who actually breached the works, the rest of the regiment fell back. The fight was over for me as I was now a prisoner. I contented myself looting the haversack belonging to the 1st Sgt of the unit which had taken me prisoner, Company I of the 23rd? Ohio Volunteers. He had foolishly left it unattended an I was hungry. If he lived through the day at least he would be made to suffer the pangs of hunger 'cause I ate all his rations and stole his toilet paper. The works were assaulted over and over again. Too many times to count my Pards came at them and finally broke them. I was reunited with the remains of my regiment as the federals finally turned tail and ran. We reformed and began the long march to Nashville. The next morning the Colonel let us sleep until daylight and after church call we formed and marched away again. Soon we had reached a section of works we were detailed to defend. Arms were stacked, Pickets posted and pioneer tools distributed. The order was to improve our works. For the next several hours we cut trees to build abatis, head logs for the trench, cut fire steps, dug additional defensive improvements and built obstacles until the pickets were driven in by the federal advance. The long roll sounded and we manned our works. The federals pushed through the tree line and proudly formed, striped banners dancing in the breeze. We open up with a devastating volley. We were manned two deep in our works as the front ranks fired the rear ranks loaded and passed weapons forward. The fire was hot and the federals were feeling it. We kept up our fire, pouring it into the blue ranks until our ammo was almost depleted. We were pulled out of the works to be replaced by another unit. In the confusion of withdrawing, a gap was accidentally left in the line and the federals quickly moved to exploit it. The were beaten back only by the timely arrival of the relieving battalion, good fortune and the strength of Southern arms. We marched back to the secondary defense line where we formed and replenished our canteens and boxes. No sooner than we had resupplied than federal calvalry flanked the left of line and a hard press by yankee infantry broke the works on the left. I watched as our forces retreated in in disarray. We laid down suppressing fire to cover the retreat and meet the blue onslaught pouring over the works. The federals paused, formed and advanced toward our lines where we kept a hot fire on them as we covered our Army's retreat. Inexplicably, the federals did not come on and our brigade retired in good order still covering the broken remnants of the Army of Tennessee.

IT WAS A GREAT EVENT!

Even folks who aren't obsessed with the War of Northern Aggression generally have heard of Pickett's fateful charge at Gettysburg but not many people know about the charge at Franklin Tennessee. Pickett and his division crossed a half mile open field with approximately 10,000 men preceded by a full hour of artillery preparation. They assaulted once and withdrew. On the fields of Franklin 20,000 men assaulted across a TWO mile open field WITHOUT artillery support. The charged SEVENTEEN TIMES into the maelstrom eventually dislodging the federals. However, the back of the Army of Tennessee was broken in the process. It could be easily said that the dream of a free and independent Southern Nation died of the bloody fields of Franklin Tennessee. I strongly urge anyone interested to read about it. One particularly compelling story is that of Capt Theoderick Carter of the 20th Tennessee. He was shot nine times during the charge at Franklin, NOT THREE HUNDRED YARDS FROM HIS OWN HOME! He later died in his own bedroom after his family recovered his broken body among the carnage of the field. There are all sorts of scholarly discussions behind the causes of the war and the reasons by which it was fought but the fact remains that the average Southron fought to protect his home and family against a foreign invasion. It is very sad that this most bloodied ground of Franklin Tennessee is now strip malls and gas stations. Almost no trace of the battlefield is left today. Somehow it leaves me feeling . . . diminished.

TO THE TYRANT NEVER YIELD