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AROUND KENNESAW4MOUNTAIN.
Historic , Western J&JA tian tic
Railroad
A Continuous Battle „ofj 120 Miles —Was
There a Weak'SpotJn'the Line of Battle?
Marietta/ the Delightful—Glimpses of
the Past.
Five miles]". from Chattanooga, at
Boyce station, the Cincinnati Southern
connects with one of the most note
worthy lines of railway in the country,
the Western & Atlantic, sometimes
called “The Kennesaw, Route.” This
road, which runs southeasterly from
Chattanooga, to Atlanta, 140 miles,
through the picturesque hills of North
Georgia, was begun by s thelstate of
. Georgia as early as 1838, almost at
the beginning of the railway age, and
built, "as a Stated work, with the
funds of the State, to connect the
Tennessee river with arrowing system
of private roads in Central Georgia.
The southern terminus of the proposed
road was designated by an act of the
Legislature in 1836 as “the point on
the southeastern bank of the Chatta
hoochee river most eligible for the
running of branch roads, thence to
Athens, Madison, Milledgeville, For
syth and Columbus;” and here, within
a few milesj)f this point, Atlanta was
established some nine years later.
The road was long in building. It
was not until 1850 that it reached the
Tennessee, with Chattanooga as its
northern terminus. Its cost to the
state by the end of 1850 had been
more than $3,600,000, with some
heavy expenses still to come.
Not content with building it, Geor
gia undertook to run her railroad on
her own account. The result was an
abundance of party controversy,
much political/scandal, and varying,
but generally unsatisfactory, financial
returns. In nearly similar circum
stances, excepting its management,
thej’oad has paid into the state treas
ury* as low as $40,000 and as high as
$400,000 a year within a period of
four years. In 1869 its pay-roll show
ed 748 names; a few months later,
under a new superintendent, the same
amount of work kept 1,442 men under
pay. In whirls of generosity its man
agement has granted free passes to
everybody, and then, in a spasm of
economy, refused them to all. Some
what similar, no doubt, are the inter
esting experiences missed by Cincin
nati through the prompt leasing of
the Southern road.
In 1870 the Western & Atlantic
was leased for twenty years to private
parties, of whom Senator Joseph E.
Brown was the most prominent, at a
rental of $25,000 a month. Newspa
per rumors already indicate that the
expiration of this leasemext year will
be the occasion for some active lobby
ing. It is possible that the “State
road” may lose its autonomy for a
time, passing into the controLof some
of the great Southern systems, such,
for examble, as the L. & N.
For the greaterJpart "of its length
the W. & A. winds in and out through
the hills and along the river valleys of
“Cherokee Georgia,” where a multi
tude of euphonious Indian names,
Oostanaula, Coosawattee, Connasauga,
Chattoogata, Etowah, remind of the
time, scarcely fifty years since, when
this region was the home of the Chero
kees assured to them by formal treaties
with the general Government.
But besides its picturesque scenery
the Western & Atlantic has another
and, in America, a rarer charm.
Until after the war it was the only
railway connecting the South with
Chattanooga. And so it came about
that when, in the spring of 1864,
Sherman started Atlantawards, strik
ing for the heart of the confederacy,
he chose this road as his line of march,
although Joseph E. Johnston was
entrenched across it with fifty thous
and veterans, ready to dispute its pas
sage. Only while he possessed it
could Sherman maintain his communi
cation with the north, through Chat
tanooga and Nashville, or hope to pro
vision his army of one hundred thous
and men, requiring as it did one hun
dred and forty carloads of provisions
each day. Met at every step with the
skill of Johnston, Sherman forced his
way down the road only by persistent
fighting and daring generalship, fight
ing, as he himself described it, “a
continuous battle of 120 days, during
which, day and night were heard the
continuous boom of cannon and the
sharp crack of the rifle.” The name
of almost every station on the road
has a place in the history of the great
conflict as the scene of a battle, a
heroic defense, courageous charge, or
some noisy skirmish that barely missed
being the prelude to a great event.
And the configuration of the ground
is such that a number of places/as
Tunnel Hill, Dalton, Rocky Face,
Allatoona, the exact location of the
stirring event of a quarter of a century
ago is easily recognized, even from the
swiftly moving train. This is espec
ially true of Kennesaw Mountain and
the neighboring town of Marietta,
which little city (it claims, rather
doubtfully, a population of about four
thousand) lies directly on the railway,
120 miles from Chattanooga and 20
from Atlanta, a younger town and
once its rival. Although a city set on
a hill, Marietta is hardly to be seen
from a little distance, being well nigh
hid by the multitude of trees in its
streets and yards. Embowered by
great oaks are many charming homes,
some in a rambling style of architec
ture, suggestive at once of a delight
fully open-handed hospitality and of a
housekeeping in which space and time
were of small account, and others, a
few, in a newer, more compact style
common in the most prosperous towns
of the North. On the edge of town,
within an easy walk from the railway
station, is a large national cemetery,
the last resting place of more than ten
thousand Union soldiers who fell in
the battles south of the Etowah. It
is a beautiful spot, this cemetery,
with charming views of distant hills
and mountains, and in the evidence
of the care and taste bestowed upon it
in striking contrast with the Confed
erate cemetery in another part of the
town. Its gateway, an arch of granite,
massive and simple and yet full of
grace, would be an ornament on any
avenue. In the center of the town is
a delightful little park, in itself a spot
of beauty and neatly kept, but sur
rounded and concealed from the view
of the traveler by rows of ill-designed,
ill-built and ill-kept stores and public
buildings, with one or two exceptions
to emphasize the rule.
But in spite of this, and in spite of
sidewalks that put even such buildings
to shame, and of glaring red clay
roads, no one who has breathed the
Marietta air for a week can speak
ill of the town. Southerners from the
Gulf coast long ago discovered that its
summers were delightfully cool and
bracing, and from before the war have
gathered here in force, themselves,
their wives, their sisters and their
babies. And of late years northerners
have been attracted by the Marietta
winters, which they have found a
happy mean between too warm and
too cold.
Overlooking the town and curving
around it from north to west, is Ken-
THE KENNESAW GAZETTE.
nesaw Mountain —“pastoral Kenne
saw” —as some one has fitly called it.
Like ancient Gaul, Kennesaw is divid
ed into three parts, Big Kennesaw,
Little Kennesaw, and Kennesaw hill,
which last, however, is commonly
identified in name with the second.
The mountain affords many pleasant
rides, walks and climbs, and the slight
exertion of reaching either of its sum
mits is rewarded with a
and beautiful view, from Atlanta,
dimly seen on the southeast, to long
lines of mountains on the north, slow
ly changing from purple to blue, above
the morning mists of the distant
Etowah.
And to many Kennesaw has’ still
another charm. Up and across its
wooded sides and along the rocky
summit remain long lines of earth
works for infantry and artillery, seem
ingly erected but a few weeks since,
with headlogs often still in place,
memorials of a thrilling past, when
for three weeks the whirlwind of war
raged furiously around this peaceful
spot. Kennesaw is, indeed, a fitting
and enduring monument to the mem
ory of the Atlanta campaign, in which
long struggle, more than in arty other
in our history, the genius of the
American soldier shines clear, his skill
in attack and in defense, his daring,
his courage and his splendid fortitude.
From the mountain’s summit one
gazes down upon ten battle fields,
where for eight weeks two great
armies of veteran troops contested
every mile of ground. ‘Moreover
Kennesaw itself was the scene of a
most striking battle, the culmination
of weeks of skillful maneuvering.
When Johnston, abandoning his pur
pose of making a pitched battle at
Cassville, a village near the Western
& Atlantic, and some thirty miles
northwest of Kennesaw Mountain, re
treated to the “natural fortress of
Allatoona,” Sherman left the railway
at Kingston and, having issued twen
ty * days’ rations, marched his whole
army over such roads as could be
found, through a densely wooded
country, southwards Dallas,
with a view to flanking Johnston out
of his almost impregnable position.
The move was a successful one even
tually. On May 25 the two armies
met again in the neighborhood of New
Hope church. The fighting at once
recommenced, and continued day and
night, among rugged and densely
wooded hills some fifteen miles west
of Kennesaw. Gradually, carefully
and steadily working with his left
wing toward the railway, and over
lapping the Confederate right, Sher
man reached the Western & Atlantic
again, below Allatoona, on June 3.
On the night of June 4 Johnston fell
back to new lines extending from be
fore Kennesaw over Pine and Lost
mountains, a distance of about ten
miles. These lines were held, under
pretty constant fighting, until the
15th, when Pine mountain was aban
doned. On June 16 the Federals for
ced the abandonment of Lost moun
tain also, and three days later John
ston moved to the heavy lines of in
trenchments, carefully prepared in
advance, which still scar the sides
and crests of Kennesaw and can be
traced for miles over the hills to the
south of the mountain.
Maneuvers for position and towards
a flank attack on Johnston’s left went
on steadily for two weeks, with fre
quent sharp attacks and almost con
stant firing along the whole line.
From the twin crests of the mountain,
the Confederates looked down upon a
magnificent panorama of warfare,
encampments whitening the plain to
the north and west as far as the eye
could reach, long lines of wagon trains
moving hither and thither, bodies of
troops changing position, while around
the base of the mountain, and off over
the hills on the south, long, delicate
lines of blue smoke from musketry
firing, with here and there the heavy
white clouds of a cannonade disclosed
the ceaseless struggle between the
armies. By night the lines were
marked at times “by the red glow of
the artillery, amidst the sparklike
flash of small arms that looked in the
distance like innumerable fireflies,”
and now and then the Federal front
would blaze with the light of 140
cannon hurling a tempest of balls
against the batteries along the crests
and sides of Kennesaw, while the
mountain itself, wrapped in rising
clouds of smoke illumined with the
glare of the guns, seemed a veritable
volcano.
The fighting culminated on the 27th
of June, when, under a furious fire
from artillery and musketry from the
whole Federal front, ten miles in
length, three determined assaults were
made at the same hour, in the hope
of somewhere breaking the Confederate
line. One of the assaults was made
by a detachment from the Army of
the Tennessee, the other two by di
visions from the Army of the Cum
berland. A proposed assault by the
Army of the Ohio, which held the
Federal right, was, with Sherman’s
approval, changed to a strong demon
stration. The detachment from the
Army of the Tennessee, under com
mand of Morgan L. Smith, of Logan’s
corps, numbered some 5,500 men, and
was formed for the assault in two lines
of battle. It was directed against the
extreme western end of the mountain,
that is, against Kennesaw hill. The
two divisions from the Army of the
Cumberland comprised five brigades
of about 9,000 men, and were formed
in narrow columns. They charged
two distinct points on the hilly ridge
south of Kennesaw, and a mile or
more from the other assault.
Between 8 and 9 o’clock of the day
appointed, Monday, June 27th, the
attack was opened by heavy firing
from McPherson’s batteries against the
mountain. There was a vigorous ad
vance along the whole Federal skirmish
line, and the three assaulting divisions
rushed forward, cheering as they went,
against a crushing fire from the slopes
above them. An hour later the at
tack was practically over. Dreadful
ly scourged, the Federals still held their
ground within a few rods of the enemy,
but all hope of carrying the heavy in
trench men ts so near them was clearly
vain.
The loss sustained in the attack by
the Army of the Cumberland was re
ported by Gen. Thomas as 1,580,
which fell chiefly upon the leading
regiments. The 5,500 men from the
Army of the Tennessee lost 603, three
fourths of whom were in the first line.
Before the assaults an active demons
tration was begun on the Federal right,
another vigorous demonstration was
made on the Federal left, on the east
ern edge of Big Kennesaw, and the
firing along the whole line partook of
the character of a general engage
ment.
A confessed failure, the assault has,
of course, been severely criticised;
but it hardly follows that it was an
error on the part of the Federal com
mander to venture it. “It seemed
probable,” says Gen. Cox, “that some
where along the line weak places
might be found where a determined
attack might break throughand,
again, “there was a fair chance to
carry some point in the enemy’s line.
If the assault succeeded it would have