| The eyes of the entire world are on Atlanta,
Georgia this week as the pomp and pageantry of the Centennial Olympics unfolds. Over ten
thousand athletes from around the globe and millions of visitors marvel at this sports
spectacle, and the crown jewel of the south the city of Atlanta has become. So much has
changed. One hundred and thirty-two years ago this same soil bore witness to a decisive
struggle between two massive, determined armies. At the epicenter of the Battle of Atlanta
were many men from Shelby County. July 22, 1864, marked the turning point in the battle,
and some say in the entire Civil War, as
the Union army defeated the Confederate forces led by General John Bell Hood, and went on to capture Atlanta. From
there, General Sherman led the Union Army on the decisive "Sherman's march to the
sea." More Shelby County boys died on that day than on any other in the history of
our county. This is the story of that dark day.
The Twentieth Ohio Volunteer Infantry was recruited from Shelby and
surrounding counties in May of 1861. Of the nearly one thousand recruits, four hundred
were from Shelby County. Although the regiment saw early action at the battles of Fort Donelson and Pittsburgh Landing in
1862, the men first experienced the reality of war at Raymond, Mississippi when they along with
other Union units were ambushed by several Confederate brigades. The Twentieth lost twelve
men that day. The soldiers also participated in the battle of Vicksburg, and after the war told vivid
stories of General Grant and his steely-eyed determination during the battle.
However, nothing was to compare to
the horrors that would confront the soldiers from Shelby County as they marched to the
outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia late in July of 1864. This story is written in part from the
first person accounts of Capt. E.E. Nutt and Pvt. William W. Updegraff of the Twentieth
Ohio. Nutt recalled the action in a letter he wrote in 1884, and Updegraff reported his
experiences in a letter to the Sidney Journal on August 7, 1864. The twentieth, sixty-eighth and the
seventy-eighth Ohio Regiments were ordered into the Union line on its far left flank
during the afternoon of July 21, 1864. For most of the night, the men dug fortifications
and braced them with logs cut from a woods nearby. No one expected any action. The next
day dawned hot and hazy. The soldiers lounged around, tired from the night's labors. To
the west, Rebels could be seen leaving Atlanta in a steady stream, heading south. Perhaps
there would not be a fight after all. Capt Nutt remembered sitting on a log writing a
letter when the first salvo opening the battle was fired. It was just after noon. The men
scrambled for their weapons. What was going on - weren't the Rebs retreating?
Disaster struck with
thunderous suddenness as the Confederates launched a surprise attack on the left flank of
the Union line from the woods where they had gathered and hid. Nutt recalled "the
Johnnies coming at us like a storm." The Union soldiers, who were originally
positioned behind fortified barricades, had to scramble to the other side of the
barricades and use them as defensive positions as the Rebels attacked them from the rear.
As the Rebs attacked from different directions, the twentieth Ohio performed the same
movement of changing sides of the fortifications, being fired upon, and repulsing the
enemy four separate times.
As rifle fire swept the Shelby County boys, the Confederate
soldiers captured a union gun and turned it on the Union line, raking the men with
canister fire. As the battle raged on, the soldiers ran out of cartridges. The dead were
stripped of rifles and ammunition as they lay on the ground.
own the Union line, out of sight of
the Twentieth, General James McPherson was surrounded, then shot in the back by
Confederate skirmishers. McPherson, from Ohio, was the most beloved general in the union
army. General Grant, on hearing of his death, wept. McPherson's death galvanized the Union
troops. General Logan rallied McPherson's men with the cry: "McPherson and
revenge, boys, McPherson and revenge!" William Updegraff reported that
during the height of the battle the color bearer of the twentieth was shot. Another
soldier grabbed the flag and began to retreat. Capt. Henry Wilson snatched the colors from
him and, rushing forward, planted them on top of the fortifications, calling on the boys
of the twentieth to "rally around their flag."
Mathias Elliot and his brother,
Robert had been with the twentieth since the regiment was formed. The boys were the sons
of William and Mahala Elliot, who were farmers in Dinsmore Township. Mathias had been
awarded the Medal of Gold for meritorious service at several battles, including Shiloh.
Pvt. Updegraff described the action concerning the Elliot brothers as follows: "Mathias
Elliot, of Company F, was killed. His brother Robert stood over his body fighting until he
had fired every cartridge. He then clubbed his musket and fought until he was literally
shot to pieces."
By this time, the fighting had been
raging for more than four hours. The lines surged and clashed together amidst dense smoke
and incredible noise. Capt. Nutt later remembered: "Now it was hand to hand;
bayonets, butts of muskets and fists were used; men were pulled over the works from both
sides. We captured a number of prisoners, and recaptured a number of our boys, and then
sprang back to our own side." Updegraff recalled seeing Capt. Nutt run a Rebel
through with his sword.
At one point amidst the smoke and
din, the men observed a white-haired drummer boy, dressed in union blue, running toward
their breastworks. Panic was etched on his face as he dove for the safety of Nutt and his
men amid a shower of musketry. The boy made it safely.
As sometimes happens during
the heat of battle, men get separated from their comrades. Nutt and other members of
Company A of the twentieth were swept away by a surge from the Confederate line, and found
themselves behind the makeshift fortifications of a fort near an area of the battlefield
known as Bald Hill. Along with remnants of other units, the men defended the outpost from
wave after wave of Rebel attackers until after 11 o'clock that night. At that point, Capt.
Nutt recalled, "men went to sleep while loading their guns, and snoring was as
common as shooting."
As the Rebels withdrew, the dead from both the Union and
Confederate armies littered the field. In front of the Union line, the twentieth buried,
by actual count, in excess of 600 dead enemy fighters.
At the time of the Civil War, it was
common practice for men from the same geographic area to enlist in the same regiment. That
practice took a fearsome toll on Shelby County that day. As the smoke cleared from the
battlefield, each company of the twentieth grimly reported in. Thirty-one men from this
county were killed or were listed as missing and presumed captured or dead. Captured
soldiers were sent to the infamous Andersonville prison, a hell-hole that few men ever survived. Many years later, it would take the
combined toll of the Korean and Vietnam conflicts together to equal that number of lost
men from Shelby County.
For many years afterward, the
survivors of the Twentieth met at yearly reunions to remember their comrades in arms. The
men always met on the anniversary of the Battle of Atlanta. Many reunions were held in
Sidney. General M. F. Force of the Twentieth summed up the collective memories of the
veterans with his remarks to the group in 1890: The Twentieth never gave back under fire,
never was thrown into confusion, never failed to carry a position it was ordered to take,
never failed to hold a position it was ordered to hold, and never lost a wagon by capture.
Bless the survivors of that gallant band. It is worth more than pensions or money to be
able to say: 'and I too belonged to the Twentieth Ohio.'
Each year at the reunion, the names of those who died in the past year were read aloud.
One by one, the comrades of the Twentieth passed on. The memory of their gallant deeds in
large part passed with them. On July 22, 1996, we celebrate the deeds of heroes of another
era. The pageantry and drama of athletic competition mesmerizes us in almost a
surrealistic way. It is ironic that this struggle for medals and personal glory is being
played out on the same ground on which so many boys from Shelby County struggled just to
survive 132 years ago this week. We should all take a moment to remember, and say a silent
prayer of thanks.
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