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The Daily Dispatch: November 10, 1863., [Electronic resource], The fight in-lookout Valley — Details of the engagement. (search)
crossed a force of 6,000 men, first over the Tennessee at the edge of town, then over the neck of land known as the Moccasin, and finally over the river again at Brown's Ferry, in rear of Chattanooga, where, after a brief skirmish with one of our regiments, they took possession of the hills and commenced the work of fortification. Simultaneously with this movement a column at Bridgeport, consisting of the 11th corps, Gen. Howard, and 12th corps, Gen. Slocum, the whole under command of Gen. Joe Hooker, started up the valley. Under these circumstances, an interposition of our forces across the valley would in the first place have required the transfer of a considerable portion of our army from the east to the west side of Lookout Mountain, thereby weakening our line in front of Chattanooga, while the enemy reserved his strength; secondly, it would have necessitated a fight in both our front and rear, with the flanks of the Federal protected by the mountains; and finally, had we b
The Daily Dispatch: November 10, 1863., [Electronic resource], Fatal affair. (search)
h as a dotard. Well may the war give him "pain." There is another reason besides for his sufferings. As a military man, he doubtless perceives the utter impracticability of accomplishing the objects for which the Federal Union has expended so much blood and treasure. He is himself on record as expressing the opinion that the South cannot be readily subjugated. Three years have set the seal of experience to the correctness of that opinion. Army after army has vanished away in the attempts. General after General has shared his own ignoble fate. McDowell, McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, Rosecrans, Buell, and others, have followed him to a living grave. And still the military power of the South is not only unsubdued, but stronger and more defiant than ever.--Well may Gen. Scott be sorrowful and silent. Unhappy old man! He has outlived himself and his country, and is tottering onwards to a yawning tomb, where the most merciful epitaph that he can expect is--"Forgotten."