The bloodbath at Chickamauga
Wandering through the pristine Chickamauga Battlefield today, it’s almost impossible to picture the battle and its aftermath that took place there 153 years ago. But it’s because of that bloody confrontation that we refer to the area as sacred ground.
In just three days, September 18-20, 1863, four thousand men fell dead on the fields and in the woods where folks now hike and ride bikes. That’s 55 men killed every 60 minutes for 72 hours, almost a man a minute. Twenty-five thousand more were wounded, thousands of them so seriously they were unable to crawl away from the fighting to seek shelter or help.
“The reality of the Battle of Chickamauga is far more horrifying than any ghost story,” says the National Military Park’s historian, Jim Ogden.
The first day of the battle, says Ogden, Walthall’s Brigade of Mississippians, 1,785 men, was ordered to seize Alexander’s Bridge, which was being guarded by Yankees with Spencer repeating rifles. Within 15 minutes, 105 of Walthall’s men lay dead or wounded. Other brigades were fighting at the location, too, and many more fell – Confederate and Union. The scene was set for the blood-letting that would be the next two days.
The Confederates were the victors at Alexander’s Bridge and commenced treating their wounded and burying their dead immediately. The Union dead would have to wait – the Yanks had retreated and the Rebs had their hands full with their own casualties.
The battle raged on for two more days, until the air was thick with smoke and the ground deep in bodies and blood. When the Yankees had been routed toward Chattanooga and the shooting stopped, what remained was carnage that left even seasoned soldiers sickened.
Samuel Robert Simpson, quartermaster for the 30th Tennessee Infantry, recorded his observations in his journal: “… nearly every man [of the 30th] was wounded… the 30th has but 41 men left… two [wounded men] had their thighs broken, two had their arms cut off… it was awful to look at – dead men laying thick on the ground, horses, guns, broken cannon, all the implements of war scattered all over the face of the earth.”
Field hospitals sprung up across the battlefield and the men who survived began the job of trying to save or bury thousands upon thousands of soldiers, whichever the situation called for.
A common approach to burial was to dig a shallow trench in the hard earth and alternate the direction in which the bodies were laid to rest – some with their heads facing traditionally eastward and some westward. This way, when loved ones came looking for their decomposed husbands or fathers or sons, it would be easier to tell which arm and leg bones went with which skulls.
Where possible, men buried dead comrades immediately, says Ogden. “If there was a lull in the fighting, men would begin digging. If they could mark the grave with a board or stone, they would, but that wasn’t always possible.” But most of the dead had to wait until the fighting had ended to be laid to what would be a temporary rest.
Ogden says that sometimes the location of graves was marked on a nearby tree, not always with specific names but at least with a regiment. “In the end, it was often up to the soldiers who helped bury the dead to try to let their loved ones know where the bodies were.”
Bodies that didn’t get buried right away lay in the heat and began to bloat as gases built up inside them. Arms and legs shot upward in gruesome configurations and the pressure often caused clothing to rip open. When the force grew great enough, skin began to split and body fluids oozed out. These men would eventually be buried in one fashion or another, but those tasked with that job faced a sight and stench many times worse than if the bodies had been dealt with immediately.
Within hours of the battle’s end on Sunday, September 20, wives and mothers, brothers and sisters who had received word through the grapevine of their loved ones’ deaths were combing the fields for burial sites. They picked their way through the desolation of the unburied dead, the wounded, body parts, destroyed trees, spent ammunition, shredded clothing minus the men who had worn it, blood, and the heavy soot of war that left everything looking gray.
Graves were uncovered and bodies removed and taken home for a proper burial. The process continued long after the battle ended. Even many of the wounded lay on the field of battle for days after the fighting had stopped.
Simpson recorded that on September 29, nine days after the battle, “we brought in twenty-six wagon loads” of wounded men. On October 1, “I sent three teams to the battle ground to bring in the remainder of the wounded.”
But thousands of the dead remained, their swelling bodies and rain