North and South

Stories and Genealogy of Theodore Charles Anderson and Sara Carlene Shuttleworth

The Battle of Franklin

Valley of Death

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Contents:
	The Battle of Franklin The Aftermath Valley of Death Surrender Tune "1812-Overture" References

The Battle of Franklin

The small town of Franklin, Tennessee had been a Union military post since the fall of Nashville in early 1862. Late in the summer of 1864, Confederate President Jefferson Davis replaced General Joseph E. Johnston with General John Bell Hood as commander of the Western Theater.

General Hood

General Hood, a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point and known for his superb record with his "Texas Brigade," suffered from a withered arm and an amputated leg. Hood formulated his "Tennessee Campaign of 1864" with the main objective of driving Sherman's Union Army away from Atlanta and Robert E. Lee's forces.

Under Hood's command, The Army of Tennessee moved up through Georgia, Alabama, crossed the Tennessee River, and then entered Tennessee.

November 30, 1864 had been a beautiful Indian summer day. At dawn, the Confederacy marched north from Spring Hill, Tennessee in pursuit of fleeing Federal forces. General Hood was determined to destroy the Union Army before it reached Nashville. The Battle of Franklin has been called "the bloodiest hours of the American Civil War." Franklin is the blackest page in the history of the "War of the Lost Cause". It was the bloodiest battle of modern times in any war. It was the finishing stroke to the Independence of the Southern Confederacy. I was there. I saw it. --Sam Watkins, 1st Tennessee Infantry. Called "The Gettysburg of the West," Franklin was one of the few night battles in the Civil War. It was also one of the smallest battlefields of the war (only 2 miles long and 1 1/2 miles wide). The main battle began around 4 in the afternoon and didn't wind down until around 9 that night. The Union Army consisted of 22,000 infantry plus approximately 5,000 cavalry: 23rd Corps (Army of Ohio) commanded by Jacob Cox 4th Corps (Army of the Cumberland) commanded by David Stanley The Union Army had arrived in Franklin around 1:00 in the morning. Brigadier General Jacob Dolson Cox led the operation and woke up the Carter family, commandeering their home as his headquarters.
The Cotton Gin at the Carter's Farm	At that time, the Carter Farm consisted of 288 acres on the south edge of town bordering the Columbia Pike. Their cotton gin was located 100 yards from the house where eventually the main line of Federal breastworks were constructed. The Federal line commander was a guy named Cox who supervised his army in a defensive position surrounding the southern edge of town. He used the existing breastworks built in 1863 and constructed others on the west side of Columbia Pike. About 60 feet from the Carter House, near their farm office and smokehouse, were the inner breastworks.
The Confederate Army of Tennessee consisted of 20,085 infantry in three corps and 5,000 cavalry: S.D. Lee's Corps (9,700) - Clayton, Stevenson, Johnson's Divisions (S.D. Lee's Corps arrived late with only 1 division participating in the battle) Frank Cheatham's Corps (9,300) - Cleburne, Brown, Bate's Divisions A.P. Stewart's Corps (8,000) - Loring, Walthall, French's Divisions By 2:00 pm Hood had made plans for a frontal assault. By 2:30 pm a conference was held at the Harrison House. Strong objections were voiced from Hood's commanders. General Cheatham said, "I don't like the looks of this fight, as the enemy has a good position and is well fortified." Generals Cleburne and Forrest of the Cavalry knew they would be flirting with disaster. But Hood would not be dissuaded. As Cleburne mounted his horse to leave, Hood gave strict orders for the assault. Cleburne responded, "We will take the works or fall in the attempt." The Army of Tennessee knew this assault on the town of Franklin would be suicidal. They bravely advanced toward the Carter House with their heads held high. The fighting soon became brutal and fiendishly savage, with men bayoneted and clubbed to death in the Carter yard. A Confederate soldier was bayoneted on the front steps of the Carter House. Men were clubbing, clawing, punching, stabbing and choking each other. The smoke from the canons and guns was so thick that you could not tell friend from foe. During the five hours of fighting, the Carter Family took refuge in their basement. 23 men, women and children (many under the age of 12) were safely protected while the horrible cries of war rang out above them. The head of the family, Fountain Branch Carter, a 67-year old widower, had seen 3 of his sons fight for the Confederacy. One son, Theodrick (Tod), was serving as an aid for General T.B. Smith on the battlefield and saw his home for the first time in 3 years. Crying out, "Follow me boys, I'm almost home" Captain Tod Carter was mortally wounded and died 2 days later at the Carter House. After the battle, like so many homes in Franklin, the parlor of the Carter House was converted into a Confederate field hospital and witnessed many surgeries and amputations. Around midnight, the Federal Army retreated to Nashville to join the forces of General George Thomas and left the field to the dead and dying Confederate soldiers.

The Aftermath Confederate Casualties - 7,000 men More than 1,750 men were killed outright or died of mortal wounds, 3,800 more were seriously wounded and 702 captured (not including cavalry casualties). 15 out of 28 Confederate Generals were casualties. 65 field grade officers were lost. Some infantry regiments lost 64% of their strength at Franklin. There were more men killed in the Confederate Army of Tennessee in this one 5-hour battle than in the 2-day Battle of Shiloh and the 3-day Battle of Stones River.
The Carter House	In the spring of 1866, the McGavock Family of Franklin donated 2 acres near their home, Carnton, to establish a Confederate Cemetery where 1,481 soldiers were laid to rest. The Army of Tennessee died at Franklin that day on November 30, 1864. The Carter House (pictured, left), purchased by the State of Tennessee in 1951 and first opened to the public in 1953, today is a Registered Historic Landmark, and is dedicated to all those who fought in this battle on both sides.
Federal Casualties - 2,500 men The 23rd Corps lost 958, and the 4th Corps lost 1,368. 189 men were killed outright, 1,033 were wounded, 1,104 were captured and there were 287 cavalry casualties. Only 1 Federal General was wounded (Major General David Stanley, Corps Commander).

The Valley of Death

Adapted from Chapter 12 of the book "The Judas Field" written by Howard Bahr and published by Henry Holt and Company, LLC (ISBN-13: 978-0-8050-6739-2. All the basic ideas are those of Howard Bahr. The characters have been changed to the Black brothers and the narrative rewritten to reflect this change, but all the descriptions of the battle are his.

The sun was setting over the Cotton Gin at the Carter Farm. Long streaks of purple crossed the sky to the west, and the landscape was all red and amber.

The soldiers were arranged in lines-of-battle, first into Brigades, then into Regiments and finally into Companies. One of those companies was what was left of the old Company G of the 9^th Arkansas Infantry.

Private Francis Putnam Black took note of the evening and the long shadows, the sun hovering on the horizon as if reluctant to depart, a pale crescent moon rising eastward, pulling the night after it.

The officers, including Lieutenant Adam Black, clustered in groups in front of the lines, broke up, clustered again. Couriers galloped to and fro, their horses white with foam.

Then General Adams drew his sword, and the call was passed down the line: "Attention . . . Brigade! Regiment! Company!: Load, prime, and come to shoulder arms!".

There was the sound of fumbling for cartridges, ramrods ringing from their sockets, rattling down the bores of thousands of muskets; the click-click of hammers being drawn back, the fumbling for percussion caps. "Keep your muzzles up, keep 'em up there, goddammit." Then a bang and scream down the line was heard where somebody let his hammer slip and shot himself in the foot.

Then the order: "Fix bayonets!". A loud rattling and clattering sound was heard as the long steel blades were fixed to the muzzles of the muskets.

Finally the men straightened up, one-by-one, muskets at the shoulder, eyes straight ahead. Officers striding up and down the front of the ranks, their swords at the carry or pointing here, pointing there.

Sergeant John Columbus Black prowled up and down the rear of that portion of the line allotted to him; poking and prodding, encouraging, cursing, and trying to suppress the collective will that, were it allowed to get started, would have them all running like rabbits away from the battle before them.

Drums were beating and off somewhere a band was playing "The Bonnie Blue Flag".

Then the command was given: "Forward March!" and the soldiers began to advance on the yankee fortifications at the Cotton Gin.

After moving through a dense wood, the soldiers emerged onto a broad field, their jackets, cartridge boxes and haversacks, blanket rolls, slouch hats, their shouldered muskets and gleaming bayonets all bouncing in time to their long strides.

They were all crowded together, shoulders touching, a solid mass of gray and brown that clinked of tin cups, of frying pans and canteens. The soldiers' breeched legs made a swishing sound in the tall broomsage grass.

Lieutenant Adam Black was on horseback, leading the 9^th Arkansas. His younger brother, Sergeant John Columbus Black, was still pacing back and forth behind Company G, try to keep them together and in formation. He carried his rifle in the crook of his arm, and his hat was crammed down over his eyes. Private Francis Putnam Black was somewhere in the mist of the bunched soldiers from Arkansas.

The Tennessee Irby boys, Captain Henry Carter, Lieutenant Joseph Lafayette, Sergeant Robert, and Private Francis Marrion Irby were all over to the left somewhere with the 7^th Tennessee Regiment.

Private Henderson Irby and his son Private James Pleasant from Yalobusha County were over there too with their Mississippi Regiment. The three Tribble boys; Private Jefferson Russell Tribble, Private William C. Tribble, and Private Richard L. Tribble all from Yalobusha County were there too.

The colors were opened over the Regiment, unfurling red, crossed with blue strips filled with white stars. That's when the shooting began. Soon the field was filled with smoke and the sound of cannon and musket fire.

The smoke was thicker now, full of bright flashes and a noise like horseflies make when they buzz around your head.

For some reason, the lines all at once began to wheel to the left, swinging around like big turnstiles. The Confederates were marching at a right angle to the enemy.

Men were falling now, lots of them. Here, there - men fell into the brown twilight under the smoke. Some flung up their hands, some staggered and fell, others merely dropped like a bag of clothes - dead ones and hurt ones, so many. They were all a tangle of accoutrements, reaching hands, crying voices, bearded faces. Bodies lay opened with their insides laid bare to the light. Nobody was supposed to see such sights - blood spurting in fountains, white bone where a hand used to be.

The lines were turning back to the right now, back toward the enemy. When the lines straightened out, the men began to move faster.

The musket and cannon fire from the yankee works was a single steady roar, the soldiers' bayonets came down, and they began to run toward the Cotton Gin.

They were all packed together now, a streaming mob struggling to get forward, and from their throats rose a strange, wavering cry.

Francis Putnam was somewhere in the middle of it. Then came a blast that knocked him over, a long spear of flame jabbed out of the smoke - one of those big black cannon guns, he thought. He saw men fly into the air and come apart. Now Francis got down on his hands and knees, down under the smoke, and crawled among the fallen men. He saw a man he knew back in Union County only now his glasses were broken and twisted on his face, and he was all dark, smeared with blood.

The band had quit playing. He couldn't hear the drummers either, only the shooting and the yelling, and the heavy thump and roar of those big black cannons, and the hum of musket and cannon balls that ripped men to pieces.

Smoke rolled and boiled over everything, even down on the ground where he was now, so that he kept bumping into dead and hurt men. Sometimes a living solider stepped on him and tripped in his effort to get away.

Then Francis heard his brother John Columbus' voice bellowing at what was left of his Company: "Come together boys! We're not finished with those damn yankees yet!". And the line reassembled in the smoke and darkness and continued up the hill to the Cotton Gin.

The band had long since stopped playing and you couldn't hear the drums any more, there probably weren't any drummers left.

Now they were all running and yelling like banshees, bayonets leveled. The yankees didn't yield, and the rebs didn't stop but the battle did slowly grind to a halt. There was too much smoke and it was too dark for anybody to see anything anymore.

That night, in the darkness, the yankees went back to Nashville and left the Valley of Death at Carter's Farm to the johnny rebs.

Surrender

Although there were 7000 Confederate casualties at the Battle of Franklin, somehow, all three of the Black brothers survived. So did all the Irbys and 2 of the Tribble brothers. Together they had lived through an experience so horrible that none of them could ever forget it.

There were a few more battles after Franklin: 2^nd Nashville, Averysborough and Bentonville, but the South was pretty much defeated at Franklin. The entire Army of the Confederacy surrendered 5 months later at Benton's Place in Bentonville, North Carolina on April 26, 1865. The 3 Blacks brothers were there, so were the Irbys and the surviving Tribbles.

Nobody knows what happened to Adam Black after the war. He just disappeared.

John Columbus Black tried to pick up the pieces back in Arkansas but he had lost everything: his house, his farm and all of his slaves. After a while he gave up and moved to Rule, Lamar County, Texas where he started over. 7 of his 11 kids were born there.

William C. Tribble (Ted's 2^nd Great Grandfather) and his brother Richard L. went back to Yalobusha, Mississippi. Their older brother Jefferson Russell Tribble didn’t make it. William had a daughter, Maggie Willie, in 1887, so he was still going strong after the war. His 1^st daughter Elizabeth Jane Tribble married James Pleasant Irby (Ted's Great Grandfather) in 1866.

Francis Putnam Black (Ted's Great Grandfather) and Henderson Irby (Ted's 2^nd Great Grandfather) returned home after the war but lived only a few more years, broken men. Perhaps the memory of Franklin and all they had experienced was just too much for them to bear.

Fortunately, their sons, Raleigh Miller Black (Ted's Grandfather) and James Pleasant Irby (Ted's Great Grandfather) and his wife Elizabeth Jane Tribble did carry on their family lines and eventually Ted came along.

Tune "1812 Overture" by Tchaikovsky

The introductory tune used on this page is the "1812 Overture" by Tchaikovsky.

Though far from Tchaikovsky's most important or impressive work, the "1812 Overture" is undoubtedly his best known piece. Tchaikovsky himself didn't feel much enthusiasm for the work while he was composing it, and if it were not for a lucrative commission for a ceremonial overture to celebrate the 70th anniversary of Russia's victory over Napoleon in 1812, it is unlikely that Tchaikovsky would have composed the overture on his own initiative.

Tchaikovsky worked on the overture from October 12 to November 19, 1880. In his own words, he found it "very loud and noisy." The commission was to mark the 1882 Moscow Exhibition, and specifically the consecration of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior which was built there to give thanks for the Russian victory during the Napoleonic Wars. The premiere was duly given on August 20, 1882 and was an immediate success. It was subsequently published as his Op. 49 and enjoyed many performances throughout Russia.

Its popularity has never waned. Tchaikovsky even conducted a performance of the in 1893, his last year. The response was raucous.

In 1974, lamenting the declining audiences attending the Boston Pops concerts at the Hatch Memorial Shell on the picturesque Charles River Esplanade - a tradition dating back to 1929 - Boston businessman, David Mugar and the legendary Boston Pops conductor, Arthur Fiedler, hatched a plan to enliven the concert.

The crowd responded so enthusiastically to the revitalized program, the pair made it an annual event. The enthusiasm was due in no small part to the concert's featuring the "1812 Overture." The musical program featured booming cannons, ringing church bells, patriotic sing-a-longs, and a grand fireworks finale. The Boston event became the first to play the overture as part of a Fourth of July celebration. The innovation has since been duplicated in countless cities around the country.

References:
http://www.carter-house.org/TheBattle.htm http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Franklin_II The Section "The Valley of Death" was derived from Chapter 12 of the book "The Judas Field" written by Howard Bahr and published by Henry Holt and Company, LLC (ISBN-13: 978-0-8050-6739-2. All the basic ideas are those of Howard Bahr. The characters have been changed to the Black brothers and the narrative rewritten to reflect this change, but all the descriptions of the battle are his. Howard Bahr teaches English at Motlow State Community College in Tullahoma, Tennessee. His first novel, The Black Flower, was a New York Times Book Review Notable Book and received the Harold D. Vursell Memorial Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters. His second novel, The Year of Jubilo, was also a New York Times Notable Book. He lives in Fayetteville, Tennessee. "The Judas Field" is an excellent read and is highly recommended.


This page and all genealogical data contained on it are Copyrighted © 2007 by Theodore C. Anderson