Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Part 3

WE SILENCED EVERY GUN!

THE OLD COMMODORE'S COMPLIMENTS SENT PLUMP INTO DONELSON!

"Well, well, go on!" exclaimed the crowd To him who thus much read aloud.

"That's all," he said. "What! nothing more"

"Enough for a cheer, though--hip, hurrah!"

"But here's old Baldy come again--"

"More news!"--And now a different strain.

(Our own reporter a dispatch compiles, As best he may, from varied sources.)

Large re-enforcements have arrived-- Munitions, men, and horses-- For Grant, and all debarked, with stores.

The enemy's field-works extend six miles-- The gate still hid; so well contrived.

Yesterday stung us; frozen sh.o.r.es Snow-clad, and through the drear defiles

And over the desolate ridges blew A Lapland wind.

The main affair Was a good two hours' steady fight Between our gun-boats and the Fort.

The Louisville's wheel was smashed outright.

A hundred-and-twenty-eight-pound ball Came planet-like through a starboard port, Killing three men, and wounding all The rest of that gun's crew, (The captain of the gun was cut in two); Then splintering and ripping went-- Nothing could be its continent.

In the narrow stream the Louisville, Unhelmed, grew lawless; swung around, And would have thumped and drifted, till All the fleet was driven aground, But for the timely order to retire.

Some damage from our fire, 'tis thought, Was done the water-batteries of the Fort.

Little else took place that day, Except the field artillery in line Would now and then--for love, they say-- Exchange a valentine.

The old sharpshooting going on.

Some plan afoot as yet unknown; So Friday closed round Donelson.

LATER.

Great suffering through the night-- A stinging one. Our heedless boys Were nipped like blossoms. Some dozen Hapless wounded men were frozen.

During day being struck down out of sight, And help-cries drowned in roaring noise, They were left just where the skirmish s.h.i.+fted-- Left in dense underbrush now-drifted.

Some, seeking to crawl in crippled plight, So stiffened--perished.

Yet in spite Of pangs for these, no heart is lost.

Hungry, and clothing stiff with frost, Our men declare a nearing sun Shall see the fall of Donelson.

And this they say, yet not disown The dark redoubts round Donelson, And ice-glazed corpses, each a stone-- A sacrifice to Donelson; They swear it, and swerve not, gazing on A flag, deemed black, flying from Donelson.

Some of the wounded in the wood Were cared for by the foe last night, Though he could do them little needed good, Himself being all in s.h.i.+vering plight.

The rebel is wrong, but human yet; He's got a heart, and thrusts a bayonet.

He gives us battle with wondrous will-- The bluff's a perverted Bunker Hill._

The stillness stealing through the throng The silent thought and dismal fear revealed; They turned and went, Musing on right and wrong And mysteries dimly sealed-- Breasting the storm in daring discontent; The storm, whose black flag showed in heaven, As if to say no quarter there was given To wounded men in wood, Or true hearts yearning for the good-- All fatherless seemed the human soul.

But next day brought a bitterer bowl-- On the bulletin-board this stood;

_Sat.u.r.day morning at 3 A.M.

A stir within the Fort betrayed That the rebels were getting under arms; Some plot these early birds had laid.

But a lancing sleet cut him who stared Into the storm. After some vague alarms, Which left our lads unscared, Out sallied the enemy at dim of dawn, With cavalry and artillery, and went In fury at our environment.

Under cover of shot and sh.e.l.l Three columns of infantry rolled on, Vomited out of Donelson-- Rolled down the slopes like rivers of h.e.l.l, Surged at our line, and swelled and poured Like breaking surf. But unsubmerged Our men stood up, except where roared The enemy through one gap. We urged Our all of manhood to the stress, But still showed shattered in our desperateness.

Back set the tide, But soon afresh rolled in; And so it swayed from side to side-- Far batteries joining in the din, Though sharing in another fray-- Till all became an Indian fight, Intricate, dusky, stretching far away, Yet not without spontaneous plan However tangled showed the plight; Duels all over 'tween man and man, Duels on cliff-side, and down in ravine, Duels at long range, and bone to bone; Duels every where flitting and half unseen.

Only by courage good as their own, And strength outlasting theirs, Did our boys at last drive the rebels off.

Yet they went not back to their distant lairs In strong-hold, but loud in scoff Maintained themselves on conquered ground-- Uplands; built works, or stalked around.

Our right wing bore this onset. Noon Brought calm to Donelson.

The reader ceased; the storm beat hard; 'Twas day, but the office-gas was lit; Nature retained her sulking-fit, In her hand the shard.

Flitting faces took the hue Of that washed bulletin-board in view, And seemed to bear the public grief As private, and uncertain of relief; Yea, many an earnest heart was won, As broodingly he plodded on, To find in himself some bitter thing, Some hardness in his lot as harrowing As Donelson.

That night the board stood barren there, Oft eyes by wistful people pa.s.sing, Who nothing saw but the rain-beads chasing Each other down the wafered square, As down some storm-beat grave-yard stone.

But next day showed--

MORE NEWS LAST NIGHT.

STORY OF SAt.u.r.dAY AFTERNOON.

VICISSITUDES OF THE WAR.

_The damaged gun-boats can't wage fight For days; so says the Commodore.

Thus no diversion can be had.

Under a sunless sky of lead Our grim-faced boys in blacked plight Gaze toward the ground they held before, And then on Grant. He marks their mood, And hails it, and will turn the same to good.

Spite all that they have undergone, Their desperate hearts are set upon This winter fort, this stubborn fort, This castle of the last resort, This Donelson.

1 P.M.

An order given Requires withdrawal from the front Of regiments that bore the brunt Of morning's fray. Their ranks all riven Are being replaced by fresh, strong men.

Great vigilance in the foeman's Den; He snuffs the stormers. Need it is That for that fell a.s.sault of his, That rout inflicted, and self-scorn-- Immoderate in n.o.ble natures, torn By sense of being through slackness overborne-- The rebel be given a quick return: The kindest face looks now half stern.

Balked of their prey in airs that freeze, Some fierce ones glare like savages.

And yet, and yet, strange moments are-- Well--blood, and tears, and anguished War!

The morning's battle-ground is seen In lifted glades, like meadows rare; The blood-drops on the snow-crust there Like clover in the white-week show-- Flushed fields of death, that call again-- Call to our men, and not in vain, For that way must the stormers go.

3 P.M.

The work begins.

Light drifts of men thrown forward, fade In skirmish-line along the slope, Where some dislodgments must be made Ere the stormer with the strong-hold cope.

Lew Wallace, moving to retake The heights late lost-- (Herewith a break.

Storms at the West derange the wires.

Doubtless, ere morning, we shall hear The end; we look for news to cheer-- Let Hope fan all her fires.)_

Next day in large bold hand was seen The closing bulletin:

VICTORY!

_Our troops have retrieved the day By one grand surge along the line; The spirit that urged them was divine.

The first works flooded, naught could stay The stormers: on! still on!

Bayonets for Donelson!

Over the ground that morning lost Rolled the blue billows, tempest-tossed, Following a hat on the point of a sword.

Spite sh.e.l.l and round-shot, grape and canister, Up they climbed without rail or banister-- Up the steep hill-sides long and broad, Driving the rebel deep within his works.

'Tis nightfall; not an enemy lurks In sight. The chafing men Fret for more fight: "To-night, to-night let us take the Den"