| The Fifteenth Iowa marching south from Chattanooga |
The Iowa regiments were deeply woven into Sherman’s armies. The Second, Seventh, Eighth, Eleventh, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, Twentieth, Twenty-fourth, Twenty-sixth, Thirty-first, Thirty-second, and Thirty-third Iowa Infantry marched south with the Army of the Tennessee and the Army of the Ohio. Many were veterans, hardened by Shiloh, Corinth, Vicksburg, and Chattanooga. Sherman said the western regiments had “learned to endure what would break others,” and Iowa officers understood this campaign would test that endurance daily. Private James H. Pierce of Company D, Twentieth Iowa, wrote home during the opening march that “we are feeling the enemy every day. There is no rest. We march, halt, throw up works, and fight, and then do it again.”
Colonel
William W. Belknap of the Fifteenth Iowa said the work ahead would be “constant
skirmishing, heavy labor with the spade, and frequent loss without decisive
action.” The Dubuque Herald seized on the line, telling
readers it was “a truer picture of the campaign than any glowing headline,”
warning Iowa families the war had entered its most exhausting phase.
| General John B. Hood |
The
Twentieth Iowa climbed ridges so steep that men pulled themselves up by roots
and brush, while the Seventh and Eleventh Iowa felt their way through timber
choked with undergrowth. A soldier in the Twentieth said the ridges “rose like
walls,” with bullets seeming to come “from the tops of the trees.” The Burlington
Hawk-Eye reported the Iowa regiments were “engaged almost hourly,”
learning every hill and ravine the hard way.
When
Johnston fell back toward Resaca, the campaign erupted into a full on battle.
On May 14 and 15, Iowa regiments advanced through tangled woods toward the
Oostanaula River. The Fifteenth and Sixteenth Iowa were heavily engaged,
supported by the Twentieth and Twenty-sixth. Confederate artillery ripped
through the forest, shredding trees and scattering formations.
Corporal
William H. Clayton of Company B, Sixteenth Iowa, said the timber was “cut to
pieces,” and the air “hummed like a swarm of angry bees.” He “never knew before
what heavy firing meant.” His regiment held its ground under severe fire,
losing heavily but refusing to yield. Private Charles A. White of Company K,
Fifteenth Iowa, said, “Men fell fast, yet no one thought of going back.”
The Dubuque Times said the Iowa line “stood like seasoned
troops, though many were seeing such fire for the first time.”
| The assault on Kennesaw Mountain |
The
Seventh, Eleventh, and Twenty-fourth Iowa advanced through thick woods into
close-range musketry. The men fired until smoke filled the trees and commands
dissolved into instinct. Private Henry K. Strong of Company F, Seventh Iowa, said,
“The smoke hung in the woods like fog, and a man fired where he heard a voice
or saw a flash.”
Another
soldier said the firing was “so close a man could scarcely hear his own
orders.” m Private John M. Laird of Company A, Twenty-fourth Iowa, said they
loaded and fired until “the barrels burned the hand.” The woods were “full of
wounded men calling for help.” The Iowa State Register called
New Hope Church “one of the fiercest encounters yet fought,” warning that the
campaign was now being paid for “yard by yard.”
Lines
advanced, halted, entrenched, and advanced again as the armies moved south.
Colonel Jacob G. Lauman of the Seventh Iowa said the men were “marching by
night, fighting by day, and digging whenever we stop.” Private Pierce noted
that a man “learns the shovel as fast as the musket or he does not last long.”
The Muscatine Journal told readers that Iowa soldiers were
“learning the pick and shovel as thoroughly as the musket.”
In
June, the campaign reached Johnston’s strongest position at Kennesaw Mountain.
Earthworks crowned the ridges, bristling with artillery. Sherman said the
position was “admirably chosen” and difficult to turn.
Sherman
ordered a direct assault on June 27. Iowa regiments were among those sent
forward. The Second and Eleventh Iowa crossed open ground under crushing fire,
struggling up slopes swept by artillery and musketry. Private George W. Scott
of Company E, Second Iowa, said the hillside was “alive with lead. No men could
live there long.”
Sergeant
Samuel R. McConnell of Company H, Eleventh Iowa, compared the falling men to
“wheat before the scythe. It was not fear that stopped us, but fire no man
could cross.”
| General John M. Corse at Allatoona Pass |
Soon
after, Johnston was relieved and replaced by General John Bell Hood, and the
nature of the fighting changed again. Hood attacked where Johnston had
withdrawn.
The
campaign grew bloodier but shorter. At Peachtree Creek on July 20, Confederate
columns slammed into the Union line. The Thirty-second and Thirty-third Iowa
shifted position under fire, helping to hold ground against repeated assaults.
Private Ezra B. Hadley of Company C, Thirty-second Iowa, said the enemy came
“yelling like demons,” but fell back leaving the ground “thick with gray.”
The Burlington Hawk-Eye said the fight proved Iowa regiments
could “hold as stubbornly as they advance.”
As
the fighting closed in on Atlanta, Iowa regiments settled into siege warfare.
Trenches crept closer. Artillery fire was constant. Hadley wrote home saying
Atlanta “burns like a furnace after dark,” with shells arching through the sky
“like falling stars.” Private Lewis M. Turner of Company G, Thirty-third Iowa, said,
“The noise never stops. If it is not the guns, it is the digging.” The Keokuk
Gate City reported Iowa men were close enough to hear church bells in
the city and close enough to know the end was coming.
Atlanta
fell on September 2, 1864. Church bells rang across Iowa. Newspapers printed
extra editions. The Iowa City Republican called it “the
heaviest blow yet struck at the rebellion,” reminding readers Iowa regiments
had marched and fought every mile of the road. The Davenport Democrat said
Atlanta was “not taken by chance, but worn down by steady blows.”
Thomas
J. Reynolds of Company I, Twentieth Iowa, said the city “smells of smoke and
ruin.” Victory felt “more tired than joyful. Atlanta cost us more than I ever
thought a city could.” Another soldier said, “We have won, but the road here
has taken more from us than words can say.”
The
campaign wasn’t finished yet. In October, Confederate General Samuel French
struck at Allatoona Pass, a critical supply point. The defense fell to
Brigadier General John M. Corse of Iowa, formerly colonel of the Sixth Iowa
Infantry. Outnumbered and surrounded, Corse refused to surrender. During the fight,he was shot through the face; the bullet tore through his cheek and ear. Officers urged him to leave the field. Corse refused. “I am short a cheekboneand one ear,” he said, “but am able to whip all hell yet.”
Sherman
signaled, “Hold the fort; I am coming.” Corse held. When the battle ended,
Allatoona Pass remained in Union hands. Private Andrew J. Miller of Company B,
Sixth Iowa, said, “Seeing General Corse stay made every man stay.” Sherman
called it “one of the most brilliant defensive fights of the war.”
Iowa
newspapers were jubilant. The Davenport Democrat said Corse’s
stand showed “the stubborn courage of Iowa blood,” while the Burlington
Hawk-Eye said the fight proved Iowa men “do not know how to quit.”
Sherman
described the Atlanta Campaign as “a continuous battle,” fought across months
and miles. Iowa had been present at every stage. Its regiments marched the
roads, dug the trenches, charged the works, shifted under fire, and held when
attacked. The Dubuque Herald summed it up simply, saying,
“From Dalton to Atlanta, Iowa has been written on the field.”
Atlanta
didn’t end the war, but it broke the Confederacy’s strength in the West and
made the last march possible. For the Iowa men, it moved them one step closer
to home.
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