Ozaukee County's
War History
by Daniel E. McGinley

as extracted from THE PORT WASHINGTON STAR
March 27, 1897



Co. H, 24th Wisconsin
Chapter 9

To the right of the pike, the rebels had gathered at the captured works in such force that our troops were unable to retake or reach the works, for a distance of several rods along the line, and after vainly attempting to do so for some time, gave up the task. But they were determined to hold every inch of ground possible, and while part of the blue coats returned the fire of the enemy, the others hastily collected rails, boards and timbers, and threw up a temporary breastwork within twenty-five yards of the first line. Across the narrow interval between the lines, the battle raged with great fierceness for several hours, the loss being heavy on both sides. But our heroic troops well knew that if the centre of their line was broken, nothing but the most superhuman efforts could save their little army or prevent its being driven into the river, and by their valor, fortitude and endurance, they held the line in spite of all the enemy could do.

But though the crisis of the battle was at the centre, the fighting was by no means all there. The assault extended nearly all along the Union front, and was of a most determined nature, but Schofield's veterans held the line at all points without flinching. Hood threw his whole army against the Union line in great waves six and eight men in depth, the narrow space between the bends of the river above and below the Union position forcing him to attack directly from the front, but he was everywhere met by a fierce and well directed fire that swept away his officers and men in great numbers. The heroic Cleburne, burning with indignation and wounded pride under Hood's censure for the Spring Hill affair, led his division against the centre of the Union line, and charged with such impetuosity and gallantry that it swept up to and on top of the Union breastworks before it could be checked, although the fire which it faced mowed down its men by the score. Cleburne was in no humor to brook either check or repulse, and when he saw his men wavering and ready to fly from the murderous fire, he spurred his horse to the front. Calling upon his men to follow him, he rode straight at the breastworks and tried to make his horse jump both ditch and parapet, but the noble animal weakened by a dozen wounds, fell dying with its fore feet on the parapet, and its gallant but misguided rider fell back into the ditch, dead. Thus died one of the most gifted and fearless of the rebel leaders, and one who had won the proud title of "The Ney of the Confederate Army."

The struggle raged fiercely along the centre of the Union line until long after dark, and the desperate character of the contest was rarely if ever equaled during the war. Further to the right the rebel general John Adams led his brigade against the intrenchments with a yell; and like Cleburne, he spurred his horse straight at the works, crossed the ditch and mounted the parapet where his horse was killed, and he himself pitched headlong among the Union troops, mortally wounded.

To the left of the Columbia pike and opposing Opdycke's and the remnants of other Union brigades, Gen. Brown led his veteran division of Cheatham's corps, and most desperately did it fight. As darkness came on, and it came quickly on that short November day, the two lines of breastworks near the pike were continuous sheets of flame, the men firing at the flash of each other's arms. On other parts of the field there were frequent charges of the enemy, the rebel generals striving to assist their comrades at the centre by strong demonstrations on the flanks; and the roar of the battle was incessant and deafening far into the night.

In front of Opdycke's brigade, Gen. Strahl, Brown's senior brigade commander, was in the ditch with his men, and encouraged them to continue the struggle until he was wounded, and while being carried to the rear, received a bullet that killed him. His successor, Col. Stafford, was soon killed, and so deadly had been the fire from the Union line that when Stafford received the fatal wound, he could not fall, his body being found after the battle in a partly upright position, being held thus by the bodies of his dead followers, so thickly had they fallen around him. Finally Brown and every brigade commander in his division was either killed or disabled, but still his brave men fought on. Hood sent forward a fresh division, but it was quickly driven back by the terrible fire. At length, after about one-half of its officers and men were either killed or wounded, and the endurance of the survivors could stand the strain no longer, Brown's division crawled away in the darkness and at nine o'clock, the battle had practically ended, although volleys were exchanged occasionally for nearly an hour later.

At eleven o'clock, all was quiet along the front, not a sound disturbing the stillness but the moaning of the wounded, and Schofield ordered the withdrawal of our troops to the north side of the river, but a fire broke out in a house in the village, making the background so light that our lines could be plainly seen by the enemy, and it was found necessary to delay the movement until the fire was extinguished. By midnight, the retreat had begun. The Union troops having rescued all the wounded that could be found, left a line of skirmishers in the trenches and marched away very quietly in the darkness, crossing the river by the two bridges. The dead could not be removed and had to be left on the battlefield. When the columns of troops had crossed, the planks were taken from the wagon bridge, and then the skirmishers stole out of the trenches, and crossing the river by the railroad bridge, joined the balance of the army in the retreat upon Nashville.

The battle of Franklin had been a peculiar one in several ways. Beginning at a late hour of the day, it had been prolonged far into the night. It had been a beautiful sunlit day, but the air had been still and hazy, and there was not wind enough to move the smoke which had settled down around and over the combatants, obscuring the vision far more than common. The character of the fighting at Franklin has been pronounced by good judges to have been remarkably fearless and desperate, even for that war of desperate battles, and the heavy losses mutely affirm that judgment. On the Union side, the losses aggregated 2,326, nearly half of which were in two unfortunate brigades which had been held too long at the observation position by Gen. Wagner. The losses of the Twenty-fourth Wisconsin are reported at seven killed and sixteen wounded. Major McArthur was among the wounded, and Capt. Alvah Philbrook of Company D, was among the killed. Company H had one man wounded, Peter Schlim, of Belgium, Wis.

The rebel commander acknowledged a loss of 6,300 killed and wounded, and 700 missing, but it is thought that the correct numbers far exceed those. Nine generals of that army had been killed, and a number wounded, and the list of killed and wounded commanders of brigades and regiments was a long one. This heavy loss of leading officers was out of proportion to the total loss, was not equaled in any other battle of the war, and shows that the rebel leaders made desperate efforts to win a victory at Franklin. The results of this battle well illustrate the fearful odds at which the bravest troops assault a line of earthworks over open ground, even when errors on the part of some of the defenders assist them materially.

Under orders from Gen. Thomas, Schofield's weary troops immediately started for Nashville after they had crossed the Harpeth, and the battlefield with its hundreds of dead heroes, was left in the undisputed possession of the enemy. Before daybreak, the rebels discovered that the Union army had gone, and the plain was soon covered with torchbearers seeking fallen comrades and friends. When daylight came, the battlefield presented many sickening and pathetic scenes. On either side of the Columbia pike, the rebel dead laid four or five deep in the ditch which they had held so long under a murderous fire, and the whole plain was dotted with grey clad bodies. Inside of the works held by the Union line, blue coated bodies were plentiful, and mixed with them, and at the Carter House for several rods inside the lines, dead boys in grey slept peacefully beside their late opponents.

Gen. J. D. Cox, in his "Franklin and Nashville," relates the following pathetic incident: "But even civil war rarely furnishes so sad a story as that which the Carter family have to tell. The house was occupied by an elderly man and his two daughters. Their presence during the day had been respected and had kept their property from unnecessary disturbance, and the day was so far gone that they thought there was no need to leave their home. The battle, when it came, broke upon them so suddenly that they did not dare to leave, and they took refuge in the cellar. The house was in the focus of the storm which raged about it for hours. They said that while the horrid din lasted, it seemed that they must die of terror if it did not cease; but when there was a lull, the suspense of fearful expectation seemed worse than the din, and it was almost relief when the combat was renewed. The long night ended at last, and with the first light, the young women found relief in ministering to the wounded who had crept into the house and outbuildings and in carrying water to those on the field. But as they climbed the parapet at the rear of the house, among the first they found was a young (rebel) staff officer, their own brother, mortally wounded, lying, as he had fallen at sunset, almost at the door of his home."