Advance And Retreat: Personal Experiences In The United States And Confederate States Armies [Illustrated Edition]

Lt.-General John Bell Hood

• Publisher: Golden Springs Publishing
• Year: 2015
• eBook ISBN: 9781786251411
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: 19th Century History
• Index: History

Includes Civil War Map and Illustrations Pack – 224 battle plans, campaign maps and detailed analyses of actions spanning the entire period of hostilities.
"When John Bell Hood entered into the services of the Confederate Army, he was 29 years old, a handsome man and courageous soldier, loyal to the ideal of Confederate Independence and eager to fight for it. He led his men bravely into the battles of Second Manassas, Gaines's Mill, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg, Gettysburg, and Chickamauga. He rose fast, attaining the temporary rank of full general, only to fall faster. Hood emerged from the war with his left arm shattered and useless, his right leg missing, his face aged far beyond his 33 years, and with his military reputation in disgrace. Blamed by contemporaries for contributing to the defeat of his beloved Confederacy, Hood struggled to refute their accusations. His most vehement critic, General Johnston, charged Hood with insubordination while serving under him and, after succeeding him in command, of recklessly leading Confederate troops to their "slaughter" and "useless butchery." Sherman, too, in his Memoirs, took a harsh view of Hood. Born of controversy, Advance and Retreat is of course a highly controversial book. It is also full of invaluable information and insights into the retreat from Dalton in early 1864, the fighting around Atlanta, and the disastrous Tennessee Campaign in winter of that year. Far from being a careful, sober, objective account, this book is the passionate, bitter attempt of a soldier to rebut history's judgment of himself as general and man."-Print ed.

Chapter I

United States Army — California And Texas — Confederate States Army — Virginia, Yorktown, Eltham’s Landing, Seven Pines Or Fair Oaks.

I received at the age of seventeen an appointment as Cadet at West Point through my maternal uncle, Judge French, who was then in Congress. I fancied a military life, although it was not my father’s choice. He occupied a high position in the medical world, and preferred I should adopt his profession; he offered me every inducement-even the privilege of completing my studies in Europe. I, nevertheless, adhered to my decision. Doubtless I had inherited this predilection from my grandfathers, who were soldiers under Washington. They were of English origin; had settled at an early period in Virginia, and after taking an active part in the War of Independence, emigrated to Kentucky, “the dark and bloody ground,” where they lived in constant warfare with the Indians. One of them was married in the Fort of Boonsboroa, the first fortification constructed in that State, the land of my nativity.

I entered the Military Academy in 1849, and graduated in the Class of Sheridan, McPherson and Schofield, in 1853, when I was appointed Brevet Second Lieutenant in the Fourth Infantry. I sailed from New York in November of that year to join my regiment in California, via Panama. On my arrival at San Francisco-at that time a small city built upon sandhills and flats, and distinguished for its foggy atmosphere I, together with one of my classmates, deemed it but proper that officers of the United States Army should go to the hotel in a carriage; but to our astonishment, on hailing a driver, we found the charge to be twenty dollars in gold. This aspect of affairs-our pay being only about sixty dollars a month compelled us to hold consultation with our brother officers and to adopt the only alternative: to proceed on foot to whatever quarters we desired to occupy.

After having been stationed a short period at Benicia Barracks, I was directed to report for duty to Captain Judah at Fort Jones, Scott’s Valley, in the northern portion of California. Colonel Buchanan was in command of my regiment, with Captain U. S. Grant as Quarter Master. It was at this post I formed a warm attachment to Lieutenant George Crook, now Brigadier General in the Army, and who has so signally distinguished himself as an Indian fighter. Although he completed his course at West Point a year before I graduated, his purse was not much longer than my own; it became therefore necessary for us to devise some plan to get along in this country of gold and extravagance. We concluded to associate ourselves with Doctor Sorrell and Lieutenant Bonnycastle in the organization of a mess, and, as we were fond of hunting and game was plentiful, to supply our own table with every variety thereof and to send the surplus to market for sale. This financial policy worked admirably, and since I had at the age of fifteen, during the absence of my father in Philadelphia, taken charge of his farm for one year with considerable success, Crook and I were led to secure land and sow a large crop of wheat. Just before the harvest, however, I was ordered in command of a detachment of Dragoons to serve as escort to Lieutenant Williamson of the Topographical Engineers, upon a surveying expedition in the direction of Salt Lake. My duties were soon brought to a close by the receipt of an appointment as Second Lieutenant in the Second Cavalry, a new regiment organized in accord with an Act of Congress, in 1855, and commanded by Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston, with R. E. Lee as Lieutenant Colonel, George H. Thomas and W. J. Hardee as Majors. Lieutenant Philip Sheridan relieved me, and I returned to San Francisco en route to Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, the rendezvous of the regiment. At the former place I met, for the first time, in his bank, W. T. Sherman, who possessed as at present the same piercing eye and nervous impulsive temperament. Little indeed did I anticipate at that period the great theatre of life upon which I was destined so soon to be thrown as an humble actor with him and others just mentioned, and who have since become so distinguished and prominent as American soldiers.

In the early Autumn of 1855 I sailed from San Francisco for New York, via Panama, and reported for duty at Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. Soon thereafter, if my memory betray me not, I received a draft for about one thousand dollars in gold, as my share of the profit in the wheat crop cared for by Lieutenant Crook and myself. In November I marched with my regiment to Fort Belknap, Texas, which place we reached about the middle of December. Shortly afterward, Camp Cooper was established on the Clear Fork of the Brazos. Major George H. Thomas was placed in command till the arrival of Lieutenant Colonel R. E. Lee, to whom I had become very much attached at West Point where he was Superintendent whilst I was a Cadet. My relations and duties were therefore most pleasant during my service at Camp Cooper. The Government had under advisement, at this period, the construction of a fort in that vicinity; it was Colonel Lee’s custom to often ride over the country in search of a suitable location, and to request each day one or more of his officers to accompany him, in order to avail himself of their views in regard to the best point at which to establish this military post. Whilst riding with him upon one of these excursions, and enjoying the scenery and balmy air as we passed over the high and undulating prairies of that beautiful region, the conversation turned upon matrimony, when he said to me with all the earnestness of a parent: “Never marry unless you can do so into a family which will enable your children to feel proud of both sides of the house.” He perhaps thought I might form an attachment for some of the country lasses, and therefore imparted to me his correct and at the same time aristocratic views in regard to this very important step in life. His uniform kindness to me whilst I was a Cadet, inclined me the more willingly to receive and remember this fatherly advice; and from these early relations first sprang my affection and veneration which grew in strength to the end of his eventful career.

The latter part of that same year I was ordered to Fort Mason, situated near the Llano river, about forty miles distant from Fredericksburg. Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston was chief in command until sent to Utah. Although stationed with him but a short time, I became deeply impressed by the exalted character of this extraordinary man. Major George H. Thomas succeeded in authority; it was during my service as his Acting Adjutant that he specially won my high regard by his manliness and dignity.

After the lapse of several months, and having grown weary of the routine duties of camp life, I determined to change the scene and start on a scouting expedition in search of the red men of the forests. Preparations were accordingly made, and I left Fort Mason on the morning of the 5th of July, 1857, in command of twenty-five men of Company “G” Second Cavalry, with an Indian guide, compass in hand and supplies for thirty days. I passed out upon the plains by the head of the Llano river, and marched thence to the country bordering on the Concha rivers. After an absence of ten days and an exploration of these different streams, I discovered an Indian trail, apparently about two or three days old, and indications warranting the belief that fifteen or twenty ponies belonged to the party which was moving in the direction of Mexico, via the head waters of Devil’s river. I was young and buoyant in spirit; my men were well mounted and all eager for a chase as well as a fray. It was soon apparent that we would be forced to pass over a portion of the staked plains or desert lying between the Concha rivers and Mexico; that in order to overtake the Indians we would most likely have great fatigue and privation to endure, as we could expect to find but little water during the pursuit. However, in the conviction that we could live for a short time wherever Indians could subsist, we began the chase on the morning of the 17th of July, marched about forty miles, and camped that night upon the dry plains without water or the sight of game, so frequently in view the previous day, and without even the chirp of a bird to cheer us on our journey, we knew not exactly whither. At early dawn the following morning the march was resumed; we passed during the day a water-hole utterly unfit for use, and went into bivouac that night with the same surroundings, fully fifty miles further out in the desert. Our canteens were now empty, and the outlook was somewhat dismal. At daybreak on the 19th, “to horse” was sounded and the journey continued. About noon a deer was seen bounding over the prairie, and with the sight went forth a shout of joy from the men, who then felt confident that fresh water was not very far distant. The trail had moreover become much more distinct; this encouragement, together with the hope of quenching their thirst, reinspirited the soldiers. A few hours later another pool was reached, but not of that purity which was desirable. The odor of the water was such as to oblige one to hold his breath whilst he partook of the distasteful but refreshing draught. The canteens were, notwithstanding, again filled, as well as the sleeves of all the waterproof coats we possessed. The pursuit was continued, and at dark we bivouacked after a forced march of probably sixty miles. Several of the horses began to show, by this time, great fatigue and leg-weariness. The following morning the lofty peaks of the mountains near Devil’s river could be seen afar off, and all possible speed was made as we recognized that the line between the United States and Mexico was not far distant. About noon we reached another stagnant water-hole near the foot of a range of hills in proximity to the rugged and mountainous country about the head waters of Devil’s river, along the banks of which stream passes the stage road from San Antonio to El Paso. Here we discovered that another party of Indians had joined that of which we were in pursuit. The deserted camp indicated that there were not less than fifty warriors in number. They had eaten one of their mules or horses, and this sign, together with others about their bivouac, bore clear evidence that the party had become formidable. The trail from this point was not only much larger, but presented a fresher appearance. The arms of the men were therefore carefully inspected, every preparation made for action, and the chase quickly resumed. The horses were much fatigued, and some of them were scarcely able to keep their places in the line of march; consequently the pursuit was not as rapid as it had been the three days previous. The march over the hills and up the mountains increased moreover their legweariness to such extent that about 3 p. m. I abandoned all hope of overtaking the Indians before they crossed the Rio Grande, which river was then not far distant. This condition of the horses and the thirst of the soldiers led me to the determination to quit the trail and go immediately in search of fresh water. We were at this time well up on the high and rough range of mountains bordering on Devil’s river, and after leaving the trail a distance of nigh one mile, I perceived on a parallel range about two miles off a few Indians waving a large white flag apparently hoisted from a mound. Orders from Washington had been issued before I left Fort Mason, notifying all United States troops that a party of Tonkaways were expected at the reservation, near Camp Cooper, and that they would, in the event of meeting a body of our soldiers upon the frontier, raise a white flag, upon which signal they were to be allowed to pass unmolested. I therefore became convinced that these Indians were either the Tonkaways or a hostile body endeavoring by an infamous ruse to throw me off my guard, to entrap and massacre my entire party.

Notwithstanding the condition of the men and the horses, I determined to pass over upon the ridge occupied by the red men, move toward them, and ascertain the meaning of this demonstration. I had at this time but seventeen men for action, the remainder having halted in rear, owing to the inability of their horses to advance further without rest. I moved across to the opposite ridge and, as a precautionary measure, formed line and marched forward in readiness to talk or fight. Every man was armed with an Army rifle and a six-shooter; a few of us had sabres and two revolvers, whilst I was armed with a double barrel shot-gun loaded with buck shot, and two Navy six-shooters. As we passed over a mound about one hundred and fifty or two hundred yards distant from the one occupied by friend or foe-we knew not which — the flag, seemingly a sheet, was still waving aloft and a few Indians were lounging about with every appearance of a party desirous of peace.

The ground in that vicinity was rough and partially covered with a growth of Spanish bayonets which afforded a secure place of concealment. Feeling that in the event of an attack I had better chances of success mounted than dismounted, for the reason that my fighting force in the latter instance would have been lessened by the number of men required to hold and guard the horses in rear, and sharing the belief which generally prevailed in my regiment that twenty well-armed soldiers should be able to successfully engage four times their number of Indians, I continued to move forward slowly upon the immediate right of my line. When we were within about twenty or thirty paces of the mound occupied by the Indians, four or five of them advanced towards us with the flag; suddenly they threw it to the ground and fired upon us. Simultaneously from a large heap of dry grass, weeds and leaves, burst forth, in our immediate front, a blaze of fire some thirty feet in height, and, with a furious yell, the warriors instantly rose up round about us, whilst others charged down the slope in our midst, even seizing some of our horses by the bridle reins. At the same moment a mounted party attacked the left of our line with lances. Thus began a most desperate struggle. The warriors were all painted, stripped to the waist, with. either horns or wreaths of feathers upon their heads; they bore shields for defence, and were armed with rifles, bows and arrows. The quick and sharp report of our rifles, the smoke and cracking noise of the fire, together with the great odds against us, the shouts of the soldiers and the yells of the Indians, betokened the deadly peril from which seemingly naught but a miracle could effect our deliverance. Each man, after discharging his rifle, drew his revolver and used it with terrible effect as the warriors, in many instances, were within a few feet of the muzzle of our arms. Stubbornly did my brave men hold their ground; again and again they drove the enemy back to the edge and in rear of the burning mass of weeds in our front, when finally the Indians charged desperately and forced our line back a few paces in the centre. Having discharged my shot-gun, I rode at once with revolver in hand to that point, rallied the soldiers, who again drove them back, whilst our horses, in some instances, were beaten over the head with shields. The contest was at such close quarters that a warrior bore off a rifle which had been used and hung by one of the men upon his saddle. Meantime the Indians as quickly as they discharged their arms, handed them to their squaws, who ran to the rear, reloaded and returned them. At this juncture I was pierced in the left hand with an arrow which passed through the reins and the fourth finger, pinning my hand to the bridle. I instantly broke the spear head and threw it aside. Unmindful of the fact that the feathers could not pass through the wound, I pulled the arrow in the direction in which it had been shot, and was compelled finally in order to free myself of it to seize the feathered in lieu of the barbed end.

Thus raged this hand to hand conflict until all our shots were expended, and it was found that owing to the restiveness of the horses we could not reload while mounted. We then fell back about fifty yards and dismounted for that purpose. Soon afterward arose from beyond the burning heap one continuous mourning howl, such as can alone come forth from the heart of the red man in deep distress. These sounds of sorrow revealed to me that we were in little danger of a renewal of the assault, and I was, I may in truth say, most thankful for the truce thus proclaimed. Two of our men had been killed and four, besides myself, severely wounded; we had also one horse killed and several disabled. Had the combat been renewed I would have had, after leaving a guard with the horses, but five or six men to fight on foot.

Nightfall was approaching; the Indians gathered up their dead and wounded, and moved off toward the Rio Grande. Our thirst, which was great at the beginning of the combat, had now become intense from excitement and loss of blood. I therefore moved at once to Devil’s river, where we bivouacked about 10 p. m., and sent a messenger to Camp Hudson for supplies and medical aid.

Thus closed this terrible scene, and often since have I felt most grateful that our horses were so broken down, as but for their condition they would, doubtless, when beaten over the lead with shields, have become totally unmanageable, and have caused the massacre of my entire command. I attribute also our escape to the fact that the Indians did not have the self-possession to cut our bridle reins, which act would have proved fatal to us. We were nigh meeting a similar fate to that of the gallant Custer and his noble band.

I learned after the fight, through other Indians as well as through my guide, that the party which attacked us were Comanches and Lipans. The exact number of their killed we were unable to ascertain, owing chiefly to the cover afforded by the Spanish bayonets, but we were confident at the hour that it amounted to not less than nine or ten; we were equally certain that four to one were engaged against us.

Lieutenant Fink came up the following day with a detachment of Infantry. Our troops returned to the scene of action and buried the dead, as I had neither pick nor shovel at the time of the encounter. Moreover I could not have delayed thereafter for any purpose, on account of the extreme suffering of the men for want of water.

After a respite of a few days I marched to Fort Clark and there made a brief report of the affair, which is now, I presume, on file in Washington. General David E. Twiggs, commanding the Department, shortly afterwards published the following order:

“Headquarters, Department of Texas. San Antonio, August 5th, 1857.

“Sir:—Lieutenant Hood’s report was transmitted last mail; from subsequent information, not official, I think Lieutenant Hood’s estimate of the Indian party was much too small. The same party, it appears, attacked the California mail guard five days after, and near the place where Lieutenant Hood had the fight, and they estimated the Indians to be over one hundred. These affairs were in the vicinity of Camp Hudson where Lieutenant Fink of the Eighth Infantry is stationed with a Company of Infantry. If this company had have been furnished with some fifteen or twenty horses, the second attack would not probably have been made. Lieutenant Hood’s affair was a most gallant one, and much credit is due to both the officer and men.

“I am, sir, very respectfully, your obedient servant,

“(Signed)

“D. E. Twiggs, Brevet Major General, U. S. A., Commanding Department. To Lieutenant Colonel L. Thomas, Assistant Adjutant General, Headquarters of the Army, West Point, New York.”

I also afterwards learned through the Indian Agent that the Indians at the Reservation stated my command had killed nineteen warriors during the fight, and that General Twiggs’s estimate was about correct in regard to numbers. The comparatively small loss we sustained is strong evidence that our shots proved most destructive, and that the Indians labored under an intense excitement which caused them generally to miss their mark. The fact that we were mounted and above their level seems to have rendered their aim very imperfect, as shown by the circumstance that one of my wounded men whose horse had been killed, was pierced in the back with three additional arrows (one of which passed through his lung), as he was making his way to the rear of the line.

Early in August I returned to Fort Mason, where not long afterwards I was promoted to the rank of First Lieutenant, assigned to Company “K,” and placed on duty at Camp Colorado, on the upper waters of the river of that name. In 1858 I re-established Camp Wood, on the Nueces river, about forty miles distant from its source, and at this post my company continued in the performance of the ordinary duties of soldiers upon the frontier till the declaration of war in 1861.

In November, 1860, I was granted a leave of absence for six months, and on my arrival at Indianola I received an order directing me to report for duty as Chief of Cavalry at West Point. I immediately proceeded to Washington, and made application in person to Colonel S. Cooper, Adjutant General, to be relieved from the order and allowed to avail myself of...

Table of contents

• Title page
• TABLE OF CONTENTS
• Chapter I
• Chapter II
• Chapter III
• Chapter IV
• Chapter V
• Chapter VI
• Chapter VII
• Chapter VIII
• Chapter IX
• Chapter X
• Chapter XI
• Chapter XII
• Chapter XIII
• Chapter XIV
• Chapter XV
• Chapter XVI
• Chapter XVII
• Chapter XVIII
• Appendix.