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Historical Summary"TO introduce into the philosophy of war a principle of moderation would be an absurdity," declared Clausewitz. "War is an act of violence pushed to its utmost hounds." To the South no campaign of the invaders lived up to this concept as fully as Sherman’s march to the sea. In reality this was a brilliant tactical move—a flank attack made possible by Grant’s fixing of the enemy’s main forces when he crossed the Rapidan. The original objective was the railroad center of Atlanta. When Hood, "a man who would fight," replaced Johnston, whose brilliant Fabian tactics had stalled Sherman’s advance, the South suffered a series of military setbacks. Sherman cut Atlanta’s communications and supplies and forced Hood to evacuate the city. Instead of following the Confederate general into Tennessee, Sherman contented himself with sending a strong detachment in pursuit, but with the main body of his troops he carried out the bold plan of cutting loose from his base of supplies and marching southeast from Atlanta to the sea. The hazards of this venture are best described in Sherman’s own words from his Memoirs, the first selection that follows. Sherman cut a swath to the sea, three hundred miles in length, sixty in width. Wrecked railroads, burned bridges, gutted plantation houses, smashed bureaus, broken trunks, and depleted livestock were left in his wake. His soldiers were ordered to "forage liberally on the country," and wild looting resulted. As Sherman himself confessed: "No doubt many acts of pillage, robbery, and violence were committed by these parties of foragers, usually called ’bummers’; for I have since heard of jewelry taken from women, and the plunder of articles that never reached the commissary; but these acts were exceptional and incidental. I never heard of any eases of murder or rape." Nevertheless, the roads were crowded with refugees, and the woods and swamps concealed others who lived in terror of their lives. One of these refugees, Joseph Le Conte, records in his "Journal" of entering Columbia, South Carolina, and finding "not a house remaining; only the tall chimneys standing gaunt and spectral, and empty brick wails with vacant windows like death-heads with eyeless sockets." The burning of Columbia occurred in the second phase of Sherman’s campaign. After capturing Savannah, Sherman turned northward, crossing into South Carolina to take Lee from the rear. Arson and pillage marked the South Carolina campaign. A Union army chaplain recorded, under date of Februry 2, 1865: "Today passed a splendid mansion. In front was a most beautiful flower garden. In the several rooms was furniture of the costliest kind. I noticed a very fine piano, chairs, mirror, etc. But in a short time, all was demolished, and the mansion was fired, but just about this time, General Ward came up, and ordered the fire put out. While this was being done, the torch was applied in another part of the house, and while this second fire was being extinguished, the match was applied in the garret, and the house was soon one grand mass of flames. "It seems sad to burn such beautiful residences, but our boys reason in this wise, and reason correctly, too, I think. The wealthy people of the South were the very ones to plunge this country into secession. Now let them suffer. Let South Carolina aristocracy have its fill of secession." On the night of February 17, 1865, Columbia was largely destroyed by fire. Southerners charged that this was a deliberate act on Sherman’s part. The Union general placed the blame on Wade Hampton, who commanded the Confederate rear-guard cavalry, and ordered all cotton moved into the streets and fired to prevent the invaders from making use of it. "I disclaim on the part of my army any agency in this fire," Sherman stoutly affirmed. Wade Hampton admitted that he burned the bridge and the railroad depots, but declared that he had countermanded an order to burn the cotton. In any event the cotton constituted a dangerous fire hazard. The Northern journalist, Pike, stated that the exasperated Union troops set additional fires when they entered the burning city. While the exact truth will never be ascertained, the account by Major George Ward Nichols, Sherman’s aide-de-camp and a brilliant journalist, is probably as close to the facts as we will ever get. This eyewitness story follows General Sherman’s own account of the march and is an excerpt from Nichols’ Story of the Great March, published in 1865. The accounts of General Sherman and Major Nichols serve to re-create for us the flight of Scarlett O’Hara and Melanie Wilkes from Atlanta and their return to a mined world.
Key QuoteTo "make Georgia howl" a hard-bitten Union general heaps fire, waste, destruction, and misery on the South: "We do not war against women and children and helpless persons."
William T. Sherman
1875
Sherman Marches to the Sea
[1864]
I
About 7 A.M. of November 16th we rode out of Atlanta by the Decatur road, filled by the marching troops and wagons of the Fourteenth Corps; and reaching the hill, just outside of the old rebel works, we naturally paused to look back upon the scenes of our past battles. We stood upon the very ground whereon was fought the bloody battle of July 22d, and could see the copse of wood where McPherson fell.
Behind us lay Atlanta, smouldering and in ruins, the black smoke rising high in air, and hanging like a pall over the ruined city. Away off in the distance, on the McDonough road, was the rear of Howard’s column, the gun-barrels glistening in the sun, and the white-topped wagons stretching away to the south; and right before us the Fourteenth Corps, marching steadily and rapidly, with a cheery look arid swinging pace, that made light of the thousand miles that lay between us and Richmond. Some band, by accident, struck up the anthem of "John Brown’s soul goes marching on." The men caught up the strain, and never before or since have I heard the chorus of "Glory, glory, hallelujah!" done with more spirit, or in better harmony of time and place.
Then we turned our horses’ heads to the east. Atlanta was soon lost behind the screen of trees, and became a thing of the past. Around it clings many a thought of desperate battle, of hope and fear, that now seem like a memory of a dream; and I have never seen the place since. The day was extremely beautiful, clear sunlight, with bracing air, and an unusual feeling of exhilaration seemed to pervade all minds—a feeling of something to come, vague and undefined, still full of venture and intense interest. Even the common soldiers caught the inspiration, and many a group called out to me as I worked my way past them.
"Uncle Billy, I guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond."
Indeed, the general sentiment was that we were marching for Richmond, and that there we should end the war, but how and when they seemed to care not; nor did they measure the distance, or count the cost in life, or bother their brains about the great rivers to be crossed, and the food required for man and beast, that had to be gathered by the war. There was a "devil-may-care" feeling pervading of-ricers and men, that made me feel the full load of responsibility, for success would be accepted as a matter of course, whereas, should we fail, this "march" would be adjudged the wild adventure of a crazy fool. I had no purpose to march direct for Richmond by way of Augusta and Charlotte, but always designed to reach the seacoast first at Savannah or Port Royal, South Carolina, and even kept in mind the alternative of Pensacola.
The first night out we camped by the roadside near Lithonia. Stone Mountain, a mass of granite, was in plain view, cut out in clear outline against the blue sky; the whole horizon was lurid with the bonfires of rail-ties, and groups of men all night were carrying the heated rails to the nearest trees, and bending them around the trunks. Colonel Poe had provided tools for ripping up the rails and twisting them when hot; but the best and easiest way is the one I have described, of heating the middle of the iron rails on bonfires made of cross-ties, and then winding them around a telegraph pole or the trunk of some convenient sapling. I attached much importance to this destruction of the railroad, gave it my own personal attention, and made reiterated orders to others on the subject.
The next day we passed through the handsome town of Covington, the soldiers closing up their ranks, the color-bearers unfurling the flags, and the band striking up patriotic airs. The white people came out of their houses to behold the sight, spite of their deep hatred of the invaders, and the Negroes were simply frantic with joy.
Whenever they heard my name, they clustered about my horse, and shouted and prayed in their peculiar style, which had a natural eloquence that would have moved a stone. I have witnessed hundreds, if not thousands, of such scenes; and can now see a poor girl, in the very ecstasy of the Methodist "shout," hugging the banner of one of the regiments, and jumping up to the "feet of Jesus." . . .
Chicago: William Tecumseh Sherman, Memoirs, ed. William T. Sherman in History in the First Person: Eyewitnesses of Great Events: They Saw It Happen, ed. Louis Leo Snyder and Richard B. Morris (Harrisburg, Pa.: Stackpole Co., 1951), Original Sources, accessed November 21, 2024, http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=C89Q756A1NHLDBF.
MLA: Sherman, William Tecumseh. Memoirs, edited by William T. Sherman, in History in the First Person: Eyewitnesses of Great Events: They Saw It Happen, edited by Louis Leo Snyder and Richard B. Morris, Harrisburg, Pa., Stackpole Co., 1951, Original Sources. 21 Nov. 2024. http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=C89Q756A1NHLDBF.
Harvard: Sherman, WT, Memoirs, ed. . cited in 1951, History in the First Person: Eyewitnesses of Great Events: They Saw It Happen, ed. , Stackpole Co., Harrisburg, Pa.. Original Sources, retrieved 21 November 2024, from http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=C89Q756A1NHLDBF.
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