WHAT OCCURRED AT FRANKLIN
FOR several days, in snow and rain, General Schofield's little army had crouched in its hastily constructed defenses at Columbia, Tennessee. It had retreated in hot haste from Pulaski, thirty miles to the south, arriving just in time to foil Hood, who, marching from Florence, Alabama, by another road, with a force of more than double our strength, had hoped to intercept us. Had he succeeded, he would indubitably have bagged the whole bunch of us. As it was, he simply took position in front of us and gave us plenty of employment, but did not attack; he knew a trick worth two of that.
Duck River was directly in our rear; I suppose both our flanks rested on it. The town was between them. One night— that of November 27, 1864— we pulled up stakes and crossed to the north bank to continue our retreat to Nashville, where Thomas and safety lay— such safety as is known in war. It was high time too, for before noon of the next day
