A rough day at Dallas

This post will be the first post of an informal series, drawn from my current writing about the Atlanta Campaign. As I write I am struck by some of the stories I draw on to illuminate the campaign. I hope you find them as fascinating as I do.

Here is Ephraim C. Dawes, Adjutant of the 53rd Ohio, describing what happened to him on the morning of May 28th, 1864, just outside of Dallas Georgia:

On the Federal side of the line, Morgan Smith and his staff were “literally caught napping,” awoken by the rising thunder of artillery. They hastily mounted and rode forward to the road bisecting their front when, recounted Major Taylor, “a most terrific storm broke over our lines and came rolling on towards us—demonic yells were the interludes. The enemy was charging—assaulting our works.” Adjutant Dawes of the 53rd Ohio recorded a similar startlement. “I . . . had just finished sewing up my coat pocket when heavy firing broke out on the extreme right of the army and rolled along the line toward us.” Next, he continued, “I saw Colonel Jones hurrying up. Our skirmishers came running in.” Dawes dispatched four men “to go for cartridges.” Behind a scattering of Rebel skirmishers he could see “in the ravine, crouching down to the ground . . . a butternut-colored line of battle.”[1]

Then, wrote Dawes:

“The rebel line advanced rapidly until they came to the cleared ground, where receiving our fire it wavered. Some of the men broke to the rear, many were killed or wounded, others fell on their faces and opened a furious fire on our works. Their officers made constant but unsuccessful efforts to push the line forward. Our men behaved splendidly. They fired slowly and with good aim and must have done fearful execution. A second rebel line came up. A crowd of men with two battle flags made a rush for the point where the road passed through [our] works. They kept pushing up with heads bowed down and hats pulled over their eyes as if to hide from view the inevitable death. It seemed as though nothing but annihilation would stop them. I could not stand it. I ran down to the road, and standing in the road at the left of Company C pointed with my sword and called out ‘Never let that flag off the road. Shoot that dirty scoundral with the flag.’ The color bearer . . . was now less than ten yards of our line, waving his banner. I seized a gun from one of Company C and shot at him and threw the gun back. Companies H and C converged their fire on this crown of men . . .[who] commenced falling, shouting and firing in the air. They were whipped.”

“I turned on my heel to speak to Captain Davis of Company C to take his men over the works and capture the flags when I was struck. . . . The sensation was as if a red hot scewer had been thrust through my face with the speed of lightning. The blood spurted out. I fell flat on the ground; before touching the earth I had time to think, ‘I am killed.’”

In a few seconds, realizing he was still alive, Dawes waved off help and crawled off to assess his injuries. His lower jaw was shattered, his chin hanging, and his “lower lip entirely lost.” Returning with ammunition, Cpl. John Townsend found him and helped him to a nearby tree. While waiting for a stretcher, Dawes had the curious thought that he had lost his sword and hat and began to get up to retrieve them, but Townsend, “divining my purpose, said ‘I will get your sword and hat and bring them to you tonight. You must get to a surgeon.’”[2]

[1]Castel, Tom Taylor, 123; Dawes Diary, Newberry Library.

[2]Dawes Diary, Newberry Library.