seconded a Wisconsin officer. “Some think we are going to one place, some to another, but we are evidently going to do something and you may rest assured that Sherman will make his mark again.” The speculation was not limited to the Yankee boys. South of Atlanta several Confederate militia and cavalry regiments were monitoring events. Already reports had come in regarding Captain Poe’s activities in Atlanta. The enemy juggernaut was stirring. “Events are shaping themselves,” a Georgia cavalryman observed grimly.
It was around midday when the very last “up” train pulled out of Atlanta on its northward journey. Soon after it passed, soldier details swarmed over the track to dismantle it. Men and officers watched the engine and cars rattle by with mixed feelings. “I remember seeing the last train going north with a full knowledge that we would be cut off from all knowledge of the world for several weeks at least,” recollected a Michigan soldier. An Illinois man felt more anxiety, but not for himself. Among the passengers on that train were “many officers who had resigned, and soldiers whose terms of service had expired,” he explained. “Large sums of money were committed to them by their comrades for delivery to families or friends at home.”
The passage of the final train left an indelible impression on a senior member of Major General Howard’s staff. He never forgot how “slowly but majestically the great driving wheels turn over—the huffing of the engines is heard—the air is made brilliant by bright sparks—the bands play—the men shout themselves hoarse and swing frantically their hats. Good bye! good bye! is heard on every hand as the train moves slowly off. We watch with throbbing hearts and possibly with trembling lips and moistened eyes this last link that binds us to home and friends and all we hold dear. It fades away and disappears at a sharp bend in the road near by, and the whistles shriek their last farewell.”
S UNDAY , N OVEMBER 13, 1864
To those around him, William Tecumseh Sherman appeared in fine fettle, a staff aide describing him as being “in good spirits and chatty.” The general’s bonhomie masked some serious anxieties about his family. Sherman had learned from his wife that his youngest, Charles, was very sick. Writing to his daughters Minnie and Lizzie, he expressed the hope that the infant “will live long and take poor Willy’s place inour love.” In a last letter to his wife Sherman made it clear that no one could ever take Willy’s place. “I may be in error,” he confided, “but with him died in me all real ambition and what has come to me since is unsought, unsolicited.” When he composed his closing epistle to his great friend, Ulysses Grant, Sherman made light of the uncertainties ahead. “I will not attempt to send Couriers back [to report my movements,] but will trust to the Richmond papers to Keep you well advised.”
In Atlanta, Captain Poe’s program of destruction continued apace. “Our men under orders have, and are, destroying all public Buildings, all Mills, shops, Hospital buildings and all private buildings that can be turned into machine shops,” explained a Minnesota bandsman. “They are also destroying the depots, turn tables and all other fixtures of a large Rail Road Terminus. They are also taking up the rails and ties and destroying them.” Already Poe’s orderly scheme was being modified by soldier arsonists. A Wisconsin officer was observing the battering down of a heavy stone railroad roundhouse when a “fire suddenly burst out in the opposite side of town somewhere on the Chattanooga Railroad.” The thickening smoke drew a crowd of curious, including this officer. “It proved to be the gas works,” he commented. “Some soldiers had thrown in a [fire] brand to ‘see how it would burn.’” The blaze spread to several nearby foundry buildings, attracting even more spectators, including General Slocum, who
It was around midday when the very last “up” train pulled out of Atlanta on its northward journey. Soon after it passed, soldier details swarmed over the track to dismantle it. Men and officers watched the engine and cars rattle by with mixed feelings. “I remember seeing the last train going north with a full knowledge that we would be cut off from all knowledge of the world for several weeks at least,” recollected a Michigan soldier. An Illinois man felt more anxiety, but not for himself. Among the passengers on that train were “many officers who had resigned, and soldiers whose terms of service had expired,” he explained. “Large sums of money were committed to them by their comrades for delivery to families or friends at home.”
The passage of the final train left an indelible impression on a senior member of Major General Howard’s staff. He never forgot how “slowly but majestically the great driving wheels turn over—the huffing of the engines is heard—the air is made brilliant by bright sparks—the bands play—the men shout themselves hoarse and swing frantically their hats. Good bye! good bye! is heard on every hand as the train moves slowly off. We watch with throbbing hearts and possibly with trembling lips and moistened eyes this last link that binds us to home and friends and all we hold dear. It fades away and disappears at a sharp bend in the road near by, and the whistles shriek their last farewell.”
S UNDAY , N OVEMBER 13, 1864
To those around him, William Tecumseh Sherman appeared in fine fettle, a staff aide describing him as being “in good spirits and chatty.” The general’s bonhomie masked some serious anxieties about his family. Sherman had learned from his wife that his youngest, Charles, was very sick. Writing to his daughters Minnie and Lizzie, he expressed the hope that the infant “will live long and take poor Willy’s place inour love.” In a last letter to his wife Sherman made it clear that no one could ever take Willy’s place. “I may be in error,” he confided, “but with him died in me all real ambition and what has come to me since is unsought, unsolicited.” When he composed his closing epistle to his great friend, Ulysses Grant, Sherman made light of the uncertainties ahead. “I will not attempt to send Couriers back [to report my movements,] but will trust to the Richmond papers to Keep you well advised.”
In Atlanta, Captain Poe’s program of destruction continued apace. “Our men under orders have, and are, destroying all public Buildings, all Mills, shops, Hospital buildings and all private buildings that can be turned into machine shops,” explained a Minnesota bandsman. “They are also destroying the depots, turn tables and all other fixtures of a large Rail Road Terminus. They are also taking up the rails and ties and destroying them.” Already Poe’s orderly scheme was being modified by soldier arsonists. A Wisconsin officer was observing the battering down of a heavy stone railroad roundhouse when a “fire suddenly burst out in the opposite side of town somewhere on the Chattanooga Railroad.” The thickening smoke drew a crowd of curious, including this officer. “It proved to be the gas works,” he commented. “Some soldiers had thrown in a [fire] brand to ‘see how it would burn.’” The blaze spread to several nearby foundry buildings, attracting even more spectators, including General Slocum, who
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