The Confederacy’s “Other” Army: The Army of
Tennessee
By Michael Brasher
Author Bio: Mike was born and
raised in West Tennessee, near where his great-grandfather moved
from Northern Mississippi following the Civil War. He is now almost
52 years of age, having served 20 of those years in both an enlisted
and officer capacity in the United States Air Force, retiring as a
Major in 1991. His present work still involves supporting the Air
Force's space-related research and development activities as a
government civil service employee. He graduated from the University
of Tennessee in 1975 with a degree in Electrical Engineering. While
still in service in 1983, he obtained an MBA from Baldwin-Wallace
College in Berea, Ohio. Later, after retiring from the Air Force he
obtained a MA in history in 1999. He has been working on a
regimental history of his great-grandfather's unit...the 2nd
Mississippi Infantry Regiment…for almost 10-years now. Much of that
research he has posted to his web site at
http://www.2ndmississippi.org
Most people with at least some knowledge of the Civil War invariably
think of Lee’s army – the Army of Northern Virginia – when a mention
is made of the Confederate army. This is perfectly understandable.
Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, James Longstreet and Jeb Stuart
were the Confederate generals who won battle after battle against
the enormous manpower and materiel odds brought against them by the
North. On more than one occasion Lee’s army came close to bringing
victory and independence to the South. In this same spirit, the
surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia at Appomattox on April 9,
1865 marked the de facto end of the Civil War. Thus Lee and Lee’s
army has long come to symbolize the “Lost Cause,” surrounding the
Army of Northern Virginia with an aura of gallantry and glory, and
inspiring hundreds, if not thousands, of books about its battles and
leaders.
Not so with the South’s “other” army, the Confederacy’s “second
team” – the Army of Tennessee. It was a long suffering and
ill-starred army that lost almost all its battles, and even when it
did win a major victory, as at Chickamauga, it was with the support
of generals and troops from the Army of Northern Virginia. Never
having a first-rate commander, the Army of Tennessee was forever
afflicted with a series of generals that were flawed either in
character or competency or both. Its failure to match the
performance of Lee’s Virginia army caused it to be blamed – not
completely without justification – for Confederate defeat as a
whole, and left a devastating impact on its reputation – that of a
perennial loser. As a result, historians tended to ignore the Army
of Tennessee, or at best, to view it in the context of the object of
Federal operations in the West (in Civil War parlance, that area
between the Appalachians and the Mississippi River). Comparatively
few books have been published about the Army of Tennessee, although
the West has finally been given a great deal more attention in
recent years. This essay will discuss the merits some of those major
works devoted primarily to the Confederate Army of Tennessee or its
major campaigns and operations.
Stanley F. Horn’s The Army of Tennessee (1941) was the first
comprehensive work devoted to the South’s “other” army. Horn’s book
devotes a great deal of space to the Army of Tennessee’s battles and
to its rank and file, giving the work a decidedly human and dramatic
aspect. This is evident from the very first page of the preface,
where Horn writes:
An Army is not merely a large aggregation of
men with guns in their hands. To make an army you must have men and
you must have guns, but there is an additional, intangible
ingredient which is the deciding factor in its success or failure.
An army has a personality [emphasis added]. It has a character of
its own, totally aside from the character of the individuals who
composed it.
…There was no fault to be found with the valor of the men who
composed it [the Army of Tennessee]. But its history is one long
tragic story of changing commanders, of bickering and wrangling
among its leaders, of victories whose fruits were not gathered, of
defeats which by a slight turn of fortune’s wheel might have been
signal victories – a discouraging succession of disappointments and
might-have-beens. It fought under all these blighting handicaps for
nearly four years without losing heart. It suffered at Nashville, in
December 1864, the most devastating defeat administered to any army
in the whole history of the war; but, undaunted, it gathered its
ragged and hungry survivors together and pushed forward again to
fight one more successful battle before the final surrender.
Horn’s narrative writing style is very readable, clear, concise and
smooth flowing. While some of Horn’s assertions have not withstood
subsequent historical research by more recent authors (with
advantages of access to additional source materials), in general,
The Army of Tennessee has held up very well historically even after
the passage of more than half a century.
Thomas L. Connelly’s (former professor of history at South Carolina
University) two volume set, Army of the Heartland: The Army of
Tennessee, 1861-1862 (1967) and Autumn of Glory: The Army of
Tennessee, 1862-1865 (1971) must be considered sine qua non for any
serious study of the Confederacy’s Western army. Professor
Connelly’s declared purpose in writing these two books was to give
the Army of Tennessee its rightful place in the history of the Civil
War. He asserts that historians have neglected it because of their
preoccupation with the more glamorous and successful Army of
Northern Virginia. Yet, according to Connelly, the Army of
Tennessee’s strategic importance was greater and its military task
much more difficult, than that facing Lee’s army. The Army of
Tennessee defended an area ten times as large as that defended by
the Army of Northern Virginia with fewer troops at its disposal. Its
mobility was hampered by few east-west rail lines and by river
networks that favored the Federal invaders. The Army of Tennessee
was responsible for the defense of the “Heartland” of the
Confederacy – a region of great agricultural and industrial value.
Yet, the author argues the Richmond authorities failed to realize
the importance of holding the Heartland, and so deprived the Western
army of men and materiel in order to bolster the defense of Virginia
and the Mississippi River. As a result, the South lost the Heartland
and so the war.
Although written in a much more scholarly style than Horn’s The Army
of Tennessee , Connelly’s work really does not supercede Horn’s.
Instead, it is a complementary work due to the fact that the authors
really wrote different types of books. Whereas Horn devotes much of
his work to the rank and file, Connelly’s focus, in contrast, is
completely on the command hierarchy and the over-all conduct of the
army’s operations. The men who made up the army appear in Connelly’s
book primarily as statistical data. Actually, as suggested by
another reviewer, perhaps a better sub-title for his two volumes
would be The High Command of the Army of Tennessee. Preferably, Horn
and Connelly should be read together. Horn’s work should be read for
its descriptions of the fighting and the men who did the fighting,
and Connelly for his analyses of the commanders of the Army of
Tennessee and their strategy.
For a contrasting viewpoint to both Horn and Connelly, Richard M.
McMurry’s Two Great Rebel Armies (1989) will meet the bill. McMurry
wrote his book, to a large degree, in response to Connelly’s attacks
on Lee’s and the “Eastern Bloc’s” role in the South’s defeat. These
assaults on Lee and his reputation are to be found in Army of the
Heartland and Autumn of Glory as well as several other of Connelly’s
works. In his book, McMurry draws the somewhat controversial
conclusion that Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia was not only the
better led army, but that the composition of Lee’s command indeed
made it the better overall army, when compared with the Army of
Tennessee. McMurry admits that the men in the ranks in the Western
army were just as dedicated and courageous as the men in the Army of
Northern Virginia. However, he argues the social, economic,
political and cultural conditions in the eastern and central
Confederate states (the regions supplying most of the Army of
Northern Virginia’s units) gave them an advantage in early military
recruitment, leadership and training. Thus, the Army of Northern
Virginia won most of its battles while the Army of Tennessee lost
the majority of its engagements. Although in this writer’s opinion,
a flawed premise cast doubts on his overall conclusions, he still
offers some very interesting insights, comparisons and contrasts of
both the command hierarchy and the basic “building blocks” that
comprised both armies.
For a “bottoms up” analysis of the Army of Tennessee, Larry J.
Daniel’s Soldiering in the Army of Tennessee (1991) sets the
standard. Less an analysis of the Army of Tennessee itself than the
men who comprised it, Daniel’s work complements and enhances the
initial emphasis by Horn on the rank and file of the army.
Acknowledging that Connelly had already completed the definitive
command-level study of the Army of Tennessee, Daniel felt the story
of the army from the opposite view – the grass roots – was still
untold. This motivated his writing of Soldiering in the Army of
Tennessee. Daniel agrees with Horn and Connelly that the men in the
Army of Tennessee, because of a failure to establish a real esprit
at the division, corps and army command levels (in contrast to Lee’s
army), managed instead to forge their own peculiar brand of morale
at the brigade and regiment levels. This bond served to carry them
through almost continuous defeats in the field. However, Daniel’s
work also interjects some pragmatism into that assertion. He says:
The glue that enabled the Army of Tennessee to
maintain its cohesiveness may not be so mystical and intangible [as
proposed by Connelly]. It was largely rooted in the deterrent value
of punishments inflicted on deserters, in other words, coercion; a
well-timed religious revival that stressed commitment, sacrifice,
and the ability to take hardships patiently; an esprit developed
through shared suffering of the soldiers; and the troops often
viewing battlefield losses from a different perspective than that of
modern historians. More fundamentally, Connelly is correct when he
asserts that the western spirit was derived from “the immense faith
of the common soldiers in themselves.”
Steven E. Woodworth’s Jefferson Davis and His Generals (1990)
transitions from a discussion of the rank and file of the Army of
Tennessee to its upper command structure. The real clue to the
nature of Woodworth’s work with respect to the Army of Tennessee is
to be found, however, in its subtitle: The Failure of Confederate
Command in the West. Woodworth notes in his discussion of the battle
of Chickamauga, “Somehow, as was becoming normal in the Army of
Tennessee, things did not quite work out as planned.” This could
easily be characterized as an understatement with respect to the
Army of Tennessee’s higher echelon command. Woodworth provides
convincing arguments that Jefferson Davis made some serious errors
with respect to his command appointments, departmental assignments
and related matters in the West – and especially with respect to the
Army of Tennessee. Perhaps the greatest of these errors was the
retention of General Braxton Bragg in command of the Army of
Tennessee long after his effectiveness had dissolved following the
hollow Confederate victory at Chickamauga. By allowing Bragg to
remain in command, the resulting “purge” of the anti-Bragg elements
and subsequent reorganization of the Army of Tennessee following,
drove the already fragile morale of the army even lower and broke up
many of its best combat units.
Frank E. Vandiver’s Rebel Brass (1956), although somewhat kinder to
Davis, still admits to his shortcomings when dealing with the Army
of Tennessee. He writes,
Bragg was a poor choice [to command the Army of
Tennessee], said critics of Davis. Davis sent him to the Army of
Tennessee because he was an old friend, and the President had faith
in his abilities. He was no commander, even though he seems to have
been a good organizer. But Bragg, to Davis’ way of thinking, was the
best man he had for the Tennessee assignment.
Since no history of the Army of Tennessee can be complete without
the consideration of Braxton Bragg and his influences, Grady
McWhiney’s Braxton Bragg and Confederate Defeat, Volume I (1969) and
his protégé, Judith Lee Hallock’s Braxton Bragg and Confederate
Defeat, Volume II (1991) must be considered required reading.
Although these volumes examine details of Bragg’s Civil War career
that are outside his tenure as commander of the Army of Tennessee,
the fates of the two are so intertwined that the majority of both
volumes deal with his relationship with this army. McWhiney
summarized Bragg in the following manner in concluding Volume I:
Bragg was courageous, and at times imaginative,
resourceful, and bold. But he was never patient, either with his men
or with the enemy, and he lacked that imperturbability and
resolution so necessary in field commanders. Handicapped by poor
health, he had no real taste for combat. And he was not lucky
[emphasis added]. Nor did he have the ability to inspire confidence
in his subordinates. Notoriously inept at getting along with people
he disliked, he simply could not win the loyalty of his chief
lieutenants. He lacked what has been called the common touch. By
training and by preference a regular army man, contemptuous of
volunteers and a democratic military establishment, he was unsuited
to lead an army composed overwhelming of individualistic
citizen-soldiers. A mediocre tactician, he seemed unaware of the
technological changes that had outdated pre-war assault tactics and
strengthened the advantages of defensive combat.
Although Hallock’s Volume II was somewhat more sympathetic to Bragg,
even she admitted:
Through much of the war Bragg’s talents were
wasted. In the early months he proved himself an excellent trainer
of recruits, but he was soon thrust into army command, a position
beyond his emotional capabilities and his physical stamina [emphasis
added].
Although many campaigns and battles helped shape the character of
the Army of Tennessee – including Shiloh, Perryville, Stones River,
Chickamauga and Chattanooga – the campaigns during the final year of
the war truly tested the courage and steadfastness of the rank and
file. In early May 1864 began the Atlanta Campaign. The previous
November, the demoralized Army of Tennessee had shamefully fled from
the field at the battle of Chattanooga – the first time in its
history to do so. Braxton Bragg was at long last relieved of command
and replaced by General Joseph E. Johnston.
Albert Castel’s Decision in the West: The Atlanta Campaign of 1864
(1992) is by far the best campaign study to date on this subject.
Tracing the choreography between Sherman and Johnston on the long
retreat from Dalton to Atlanta, Castel also does not ignore the men
in the ranks and their feelings as the campaign progressed. The ebb
and flow of each army’s morale can be traced with Castel’s inclusion
of comments from the troops themselves. Castel is critical of both
Johnston and his replacement, John Bell Hood, in command of the Army
of Tennessee. Johnston is criticized for being far too prudent and
lacking in boldness, and Hood for “lacking realism about his own
army, the enemy’s army, and above all the nature of war itself as it
had evolved in America by 1864.”
From the standpoint of a study of the Army of Tennessee, Castel’s
campaign study is critical to understanding the dynamics both in the
army’s high command and within its rank and file. The complex
interplay of factors that shaped the Atlanta campaign is necessary
for an understanding of the tragic Tennessee campaign that followed
and the remnant that was once the Army of Tennessee’s final fight at
Bentonville, North Carolina.
Wiley Sword’s Embrace an Angry Wind (1992) is the second campaign
study necessary to gain an understanding into the character of the
Army of Tennessee and the greatness that lay deep within its ranks.
Rumors spread quickly within the army, and the men all knew that
their new commander, John B. Hood, all but considered them cowards
and held them responsible for the loss of Atlanta to Sherman. Hood
had complained that Joe Johnston had spoiled the esprit of the army
by fighting them from behind breastworks. They had lost their
offensive punch – they refused to attack fortified positions. Hood
would soon correct that deficiency. Enraged by a missed opportunity
to cut off Schofield’s Federal forces from Nashville at Spring Hill,
Hood ordered the Army of Tennessee dashed to its death against the
fortifications at Franklin on November 30, 1864. Sword explains
Hood’s actions:
Hood’s decision to attack at Franklin was
essentially an emotional reflex, rooted in his obsession to “prevent
the enemy from escaping.” …Hood on November 30th was angry,
overeager, frustrated, and not reasoning well. His resort to tactics
of not firing a gun, but to use the bayonet, was a throwback to
Gaines’ Mill. In Hood’s mind failings were often explained in
simplistic terms – the want of physical and moral courage. Yet his
own failings, and also a vindictive disposition, were masked by his
penchant for blaming others.
…Hood harbored visions of past glory. Disciplined valor had won the
day then [as at Gaines’ Mill]; a similar attack would ever provide
the same result. It was the only way he knew or understood. John
Bell Hood was a sad anachronism, a disabled personality prone to
miscalculation and misperception. Unfortunately, he was also a fool
with a license to kill his own men.
Franklin was, in many ways, as symbolic a moment for the Army of
Tennessee as was Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg for the Army of
Northern Virginia. The last large-scale Confederate open field
assault of the Civil War, the charge of Cheatham’s and Stewart’s
Corps at Franklin was larger in scale than Pickett’s at Gettysburg.
More than 18,000 infantry in three battle lines, with essentially no
artillery support (most of the Confederate artillery was with the
army’s trains with Lee’s Corps to the rear), flags flying and bands
playing, recklessly threw themselves against the formidable Federal
works manned by some 23,000 Atlanta veterans of the Union IV and
XXIII Corps stiffened by substantial artillery reserves. At this
late stage in the war, why would these men sacrifice themselves in
such a manner? Certainly it was not due to any love of their
commander who considered them cowards. Something else made them
charge that day, and that was probably what such authors as
Connelly, Horn and Daniel would ascribe to the “glue” that held the
army together through so many long years of defeat – the morale of
the rank and file of the Army of Tennessee.
James Lee McDonough and Thomas L. Connelly’s book, Five Tragic
Hours: The Battle of Franklin (1983) is much more than a simple
battle study. These noted authors also delve into the character of
the Army of Tennessee and the reasons the men fought so savagely on
that bright Indian summer afternoon. In a tribute to the greatness
of the Army of Tennessee, the authors write in part:
Todd Carter was the last, and men around him
were the last, ghostly remnants of what had once been the mighty
Army of Tennessee. Once it had been a fearsome agent of destruction
that had almost demolished Grant’s reputation at Shiloh. It had
struck terror into the hearts of the midwestern folk in 1862 when
the long gray line and miles of wagons moved forward toward the Ohio
River. At Chickamauga it had cut General William Rosecrans’s army in
two, sending a panicked General and half his army in flight to
Chattanooga. Like a defiant wounded animal, the army had awaited
Sherman in North Georgia. Sherman came, and still the Army of
Tennessee was a powerful force. In the long campaign from Dalton
through New Hope Church to Atlanta and Jonesboro, the Army of
Tennessee was bled at an awful cost it could never repay. …And then,
men who wore the gray appeared on the ridges south of Franklin.
Truly they came almost as a ghost army, the remnant of men and
legends raging larger than life. Once they had been in Franklin and
Nashville, when the gray dreams were full. Now Tod Carter and his
comrades out on the hill slopes were the very last.
The Army of Tennessee buried its dead at Franklin (including five
general officers) and moved on with a scant 23,053 effectives to its
virtual annihilation at Nashville at the hands of General George
Thomas and 71,842 well-equipped Federals. Only a handful of
survivors (18,742) remained to reorganize and refit at Tupelo,
Mississippi. Still it is amazing to learn that a stalwart core
comprising the remnant of the Army of Tennessee was rushed across
the South for one last confrontation with its old nemesis, Sherman,
at Bentonville, North Carolina during the closing days of the war.
Bentonville has long been ignored in the annals of major Civil War
battles. That oversight has recently been corrected with the release
of Mark L. Bradley’s Last Stand in the Carolinas (1996) and
Bentonville (1996) by Nathaniel Cheairs Hughes, Jr. Although many
historians write off the Army of Tennessee following the battle and
subsequent pursuit at Nashville in December 1864, Bradley and Hughes
carefully document the contributions made by the remnant of the Army
of Tennessee. Therefore, it would be a mistake to exclude the
Carolinas campaign and Bentonville from a thorough study of the
Confederacy’s “other” army.
In truth, the Davis administration finished the job that Thomas had
started at Nashville – the final dispersal of the Army of Tennessee.
Of the 18,000 or so men that reassembled at Tupelo in January 1865,
some 3,000 were sent to reinforce Mobile. Many were given furloughs
or simply took “walking furloughs,” never to return. The desertion
rate was undoubtedly high in those last bleak months of the war.
Mark L. Bradley’s Last Stand in the Carolinas (1996) discusses the
point in time when Joe Johnston was returned to command the forces
to try and stop Sherman on February 22, 1865. Lee’s message read:
Assume command of the Army of Tennessee and all
troops in the Department of South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida.
Assign General Beauregard to duty under you, as you may select.
Concentrate all available forces and drive back Sherman.
The first contingent of the Army of Tennessee (Stevenson’s Division
of Lee’s Corps) to advance to intercept Sherman began the long and
circuitous trip from Tupelo on January 19, 1865. The men moved by
way of patchwork railroads, dilapidated steamboats and marching by
foot to finally reach, by February 25, within 80 miles of Charlotte.
Although the numbers are still difficult to verify with great
accuracy, the Army of Tennessee contingent that would eventually end
up once more under the command of Joe Johnston was numbered as
follows: Lee’s Corps – about 3,500 men; Stewart’s Corps – 1,200; and
Cheatham’s Corps – 1,900 effectives. So in total, the Army of
Tennessee was now about the size of an 1862 division (about 6,600
men). Even then, not all the men would be able to concentrate at
Bentonville in time to take part in all or parts of the fighting
from March 18-21, 1865.
According to Bentonville (1996) by Nathaniel Cheairs Hughes, Jr.,
one of the reasons Joe Johnston decided to stand and fight at
Bentonville was that he felt he must do something to help restore
the reputation and pride of the rank and file of the Army of
Tennessee contingent. As Hughes noted, “…anything to disprove the
slanders of John Bell Hood. Johnston knew his men. Bentonville would
be their tonic.”
Of course, the remnant of the Army of Tennessee did fight bravely at
Bentonville, doing much to help restore their shaken confidence and
contradict their many detractors. However, as we know, by this point
in time it was a matter of “too little, too late.” Sherman, although
temporarily rebuffed, was able to once more concentrate overwhelming
force against Johnston and force him to retreat. Lee’s surrender
would follow on April 9th, and Johnston would open a dialogue with
Sherman on similar surrender terms.
Historians continue to debate both the absolute merits of the
Confederate Army of Tennessee and the relative merits of the Western
army in comparison with its sister, the Army of Northern Virginia.
Historians love a winner. The Army of Tennessee was painted as a
loser. Not that the men in the ranks felt that they had ever been
outfought by their blue-jacketed opponents – outgeneraled, yes, but
never outfought. As Stanley F. Horn so clearly stated more than
fifty years ago:
…But all of the War Between the States was not
fought in Virginia. There was another Confederate army, strangely
neglected by most historians of the war – the Army of Tennessee. It,
too, carried the fortunes of the Confederacy on its bayonets no less
valiantly than its more famous sister army in Virginia. With
stubborn bravery it faced the armies of stout Midwesterners under
such leaders as Grant and Sherman and Thomas, and it matched them
blow for blow.
But in matching the Federals “blow for blow,” the Army of Tennessee
was nevertheless declared the loser in most of its battles. Lee’s
army never had that stain on its reputation. Thus, we see at
Gettysburg, at the symbolic “High Water Mark” of Pickett’s Charge, a
great national military park set aside with its attendant monuments
and plaques to record the bravery and sacrifice of the men in the
Army of Northern Virginia.
In contrast, on the battlefield of Franklin, the symbolic redemption
point for the honor of the Army of Tennessee, “progress” has
persisted in devouring the land. Quiet neighborhoods exist where
Cleburne’s division was cut to bits. Where Brown’s Tennessee
division encountered the Federal entrenchments, there now stands a
ramshackle warehouse and the litter of old coffee cans and abandoned
tires. The spot where the brave Pat Cleburne probably died is now
part of a restaurant parking lot. Only the Carter house still stands
somewhat as it once was during the awful fighting. Forlornly
surrounded and nearly choked from view by its urban setting, it and
its bullet-ridden outbuildings are the only reminders of that far
distant scene.
Whether agreeing with the Army of Tennessee’s most vehement
supporters or its loudest detractors, the truth of its greatness (or
lack thereof) in all likelihood lies somewhere in between. It is
probably fitting therefore to use a passage from Connelly’s Autumn
of Glory , following the army’s surrender to Sherman in North
Carolina, to conclude this essay:
…Lingering too was that constant frustration
which tormented the army – the feeling that the government and
others neither understood nor appreciated them. Some believed the
government saw things through Lee’s eyes only and considered the
hills around Gettysburg more important than those at Perryville or
Chickamauga. Who would remember that the Army of Tennessee defended
an area almost ten times the size of that in which Lee fought? Who
would remember that the western army had a double burden – to defend
the geographical West and to protect the Rebel heartland of raw
materials, munitions, and foodstuffs which often supplied Lee as
well. Some in the Confederacy had never fully known of the enduring
turmoil which disrupted the western army. No other army in the war
had experienced such a high degree of command change and
disorganization or had seen such bitter infighting among its
generals. Well scarred by internal turmoil, the army had also been
scarred by continual defeat. The public’s reaction to the army’s
problems must have tried the patience of the men in the ranks. The
army was characterized by some as an aggregation of raw westerners
who could not face the enemy. One of their own commanders, the
tormented Hood, later accused them of cowardice. It was true they
bore the blemishes of the debacles of Fort Donelson, Missionary
Ridge, and the Nashville rout. But they returned to fight again,
often under generals whom they distrusted or hated. For all its
troubles and defeats, the army possessed greatness deep in the ranks
– at Greensboro, while Johnston surrendered nearby to Sherman,
General John C. Brown drilled his division.
Bibliography
Bradley, Mark L. Last Stand in the
Carolinas: The Battle of Bentonville. Campbell, Calif.: Savas
Woodbury Publishers, 1996.
Castel, Albert. Decision in the West: The Atlanta Campaign of
1864 . Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1992.
Connelly, Thomas Lawrence. Army of the Heartland: The Army of
Tennessee, 1861-1862 . Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University
Press, 1967.
________. Autumn of Glory: The Army of Tennessee, 1862-1865 .
Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1971.
Daniel, Larry J. Soldiering in the Army of Tennessee. Chapel
Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991.
Hallock, Judith Lee. Braxton Bragg and Confederate Defeat, Volume
II. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1991.
Horn, Stanley F. The Army of Tennessee. Norman: University of
Oklahoma Press, 1993 (paperback reprint of 1941 Indianapolis
edition).
Hughes, Nathaniel Cheairs, Jr. Bentonville: The Final Battle of
Sherman & Johnston. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 1996.
McDonough James Lee and Thomas L. Connelly. Five Tragic Hours:
The Battle of Franklin. Knoxville: University of Tennessee
Press, 1983.
McMurry, Richard M. Two Great Rebel Armies. Chapel Hill:
University of North Carolina Press, 1989. McWhiney, Grady.
Braxton Bragg and Confederate Defeat, Volume I. Tuscaloosa:
University of Alabama Press, 1969.
Sword, Wiley. Embrace an Angry Wind: The Confederacy’s Last
Hurrah: Spring Hill, Franklin, and Nashville. New York:
HarperCollins, 1992.
Vandiver, Frank E. Rebel Brass: The Confederate Command System.
Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1984 (paperback
reprint of 1956 edition).
Woodworth, Steven E. Jefferson Davis and His Generals: The
Failure of Confederate Command in the West . Lawrence:
University Press of Kansas, 1990.
End Notes
1. Stanley F. Horn, The Army of Tennessee (Indianapolis:
1941; Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993), xi-xii.
2. Thomas L. Connelly, Army of the Heartland: The Army of
Tennessee, 1861-1862 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University
Press, 1967), x-xii.
3. Richard M. McMurry, Two Great Rebel Armies: An Essay in
Confederate Military History (Chapel Hill: University of North
Carolina Press, 1989) xi-xii.
4. Larry J. Daniel, Soldiering in the Army of Tennessee: A
Portrait of Life in a Confederate Army (Chapel Hill: University
of North Carolina Press, 1991), xi.
5. Ibid., 21-22. Connelly, Army of the Heartland , xiii.
6. Steven E. Woodworth, Jefferson Davis and His Generals: The
Failure of Confederate Command in the West (Lawrence: University
of Kansas Press, 1990), 235.
7. Ibid., 254-255.
8. Frank E. Vandiver, Rebel Brass: The Confederate Command System
(Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1984), 33-34.
9. Grady McWhiney, Braxton Bragg and Confederate Defeat, Volume I
(Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1969), 389-390.
10. Judith Lee Hallock, Braxton Bragg and Confederate Defeat,
Volume II (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1991), 272.
11. Albert Castel, Decision in the West: The Atlanta Campaign of
1864 (Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1992), 562.
12. Wiley Sword, Embrace an Angry Wind: The Confederacy’s Last
Hurrah: Spring Hill, Franklin, and Nashville (New York:
HarperCollins, 1992), 263.
13. Captain Theodrick (Tod) Carter of the 20th Tennessee Infantry.
His family lived in Franklin near the scene of some of the heaviest
fighting. Tod Carter was mortally wounded in the charge at Franklin,
found on the field by his family, and taken to his boyhood home to
die.
14. James Lee McDonough and Thomas L. Connelly, Five Tragic
Hours: The Battle of Franklin (Knoxville: University of
Tennessee Press, 1983), 70, 79.
15. Mark. L. Bradley, Last Stand in the Carolinas: The Battle of
Bentonville (Campbell, Calif.: Savas Woodbury Publishers, 1996),
25-26.
16. Ibid., 28-29.
17. Ibid., 28.
18. Nathaniel Cheairs Hughes, Jr., Bentonville: The Final Battle
of Sherman & Johnston (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press, 1996), 223.
19. Horn, The Army of Tennessee, xi.
20. Sword, Embrace an Angry Wind, 442-443.
21. Thomas L. Connelly, Autumn of Glory: The Army of Tennessee,
1862-1865 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1971),
535.
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