PART THREE
CHAPTER XVII
May of 1864 came – a hot dry May that wilted the flowers in the
Buds – and the Yankees under General Sherman were in Georgia again,
Above Dalton, one hundred miles northwest of Atlanta. Rumor had it
That there would be heavy fighting up there near the boundary
Between Georgia and Tennessee. The Yankees were massing for an
Attack on the Western and Atlantic Railroad, the line which
Connected Atlanta with Tennessee and the West, the same line over
Which the Southern troops had been rushed last fall to win the
Victory at Chickamauga.
But, for the most part, Atlanta was not disturbed by the prospect
Of fighting near Dalton. The place where the Yankees were
Concentrating was only a few miles southeast of the battle field of
Chickamauga. They had been driven back once when they had tried to
Break through the mountain passes of that region, and they would be
Driven back again.
Atlanta – and all of Georgia – knew that the state was far too
Important to the Confederacy for General Joe Johnston to let the
Yankees remain inside the state’s borders for long. Old Joe and
His army would not let even one Yankee get south of Dalton, for too
Much depended on the undisturbed functioning of Georgia. The
Unravaged state was a vast granary, machine shop and storehouse for
The Confederacy. It manufactured much of the powder and arms used
By the army and most of the cotton and woolen goods. Lying between
Atlanta and Dalton was the city of Rome with its cannon foundry and
Its other industries, and Etowah and Allatoona with the largest
Ironworks south of Richmond. And, in Atlanta, were not only the
Factories for making pistols and saddles, tents and ammunition, but
Also the most extensive rolling mills in the South, the shops of
The principal railroads and
the enormous hospitals. And in Atlanta
Was the junction of the four railroads on which the very life of
The Confederacy depended.
So no one worried particularly. After all, Dalton was a long way
Off, up near the Tennessee line. There had been fighting in
Tennessee for three years and people were accustomed to the thought
Of that state as a far-away battle field, almost as far away as
Virginia or the Mississippi River. Moreover, Old Joe and his men
Were between the Yankees and Atlanta, and everyone knew that, next
To General Lee himself, there was no greater general than Johnston,
Now that Stonewall Jackson was dead.
Dr. Meade summed up the civilian point of view on the matter, one
Warm May evening on the veranda of Aunt Pitty’s house, when he said
That Atlanta had nothing to fear, for General Johnston was standing
In the mountains like an iron rampart. His audience heard him with
Varying emotions, for all who sat there rocking quietly in the
Fading twilight, watching the first fireflies of the season moving
Magically through the dusk, had weighty matters on their minds.
Mrs. Meade, her hand upon Phil’s arm, was hoping the doctor was
Right. If the war came closer, she knew that Phil would have to
Go. He was sixteen now and in the Home Guard. Fanny Elsing, pale
And hollow eyed since Gettysburg, was trying to keep her mind from
The torturing picture which had worn a groove in her tired mind
These past several months – Lieutenant Dallas McLure dying in a
Jolting ox cart in the rain on the long, terrible retreat into
Maryland.
Captain Carey Ashburn’s useless arm was hurting him again and
Moreover he was depressed by the thought that his courtship of
Scarlett was at a standstill.
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