corps commanders the General promulgated his plan of battle. General McCook was to occupy the most advantageous position, refusing his right as much as practicable and necessary to secure it, to receive the attack of the enemy, or, if that did not come, to attack sufficiently to hold all the forces in his front. Generals Negley and Palmer to open with skirmishing, and engage the enemy’s center and left as far as the river. Crittenden to cross Van Cleve’s division at the lower ford, covered and supported by Morgan’s pioneer corps, 1,700 strong, and to advance on Breckinridge. Wood’s division to cross by brigades at the upper ford, and moving on Van Cleve’s right, to carry everything before them to Murfreesboro. This movement would, it was supposed, dislodge Breckinridge, and gaining the high ground east of Stones River, Wood’s batteries could obtain an enfilading fire upon the heavy body of troops massed in front of Negley and Palmer. The center and left, using Negley’s right as a pivote, were to swing around through Murfreesboro and take the force confronting McCook in rear, driving it into the country towards Salem. The successful execution of General Rosecrans’ design depended not more upon the spirit and gallantry of the assaulting column than upon the courage and obstinacy with which the position held by the Right Wing was maintained. Having explained this fact to General McCook, the commanding general asked him if, with a full knowledge of the ground over which he had fought, he could hold his position three hours—again alluding to his dissatisfaction with the direction which his line had assumed, but, as before, leaving that to the corps commander—“I think I can,” said McCook, and the conference ended.

General Braxton Bragg, a graduate of West Point, a master in military science, a commander whose endurance and hard fighting qualities in the field were more conspicuous than his generalship in the management of campaign, was in command of the Confederate army at Murfreesboro. He had taken up the execution of the plan of battle where it had dropped from the dying hand of Albert Sydney Johnston, and was advancing to carry it out at Shiloh, when his brigades were recalled by Beauregard, sick in an ambulance three miles in the rear. He had, by a brilliant flank movement of three hundred miles through a mountainous region, gained Buell’s rear in Kentucky, only to emerge from the farthest corner of the State without a decisive battle. Recriminations had grown out of this campaign which threatened to sap the influence of the commanding general. General Polk had been threatened with court-martial, and Hardee expressed the opinion that if Bragg persisted in bringing charges, Polk could, if he would, “rip up the Kentucky campaign—tear Bragg to tatters.” These compliments, however, passed only between prominent officers; the army was in good state of discipline, although out of an aggregate 85,372 only 47,930 were carried on the rolls as effectives, and 30,000 were absent, with and without leave.

Bragg had in his army about the same proportion of raw troops to veterans as were found in that in his front, and both armies were equally well armed. Men who had tested each other’s metal at Pea Ridge, Shiloh, and Perryville, and in innumerable skirmishes, were again arrayed for a final conflict. Here was Bragg, sullen, hard-featured, unapproachable; Polk, benignant, dignified, majestic; Hardee, the superb rider, the strict disciplinarian, the steady, persistent fighter; Breckinridge, elegant in manner, eloquent in speech, courteous, courageous, the idol of the Kentucky brigade, and, like the men who composed it, dimly conscious possibly of the crime against his favorite dogma of States rights, and the ingratitude of a people whose cause they had espoused against the expressed will of their native State.

Among the division commanders were Cheatham, whose headlong charges at Shiloh and Perryville thousands of maimed soldiers both North and South had cause to remember; Cleburne, stubborn and stout of heart, blunt, impassive and heavy, who was destined two years later to pour out his life’s blood upon the breastworks at Franklin; McCown and Withers of lesser note, and a host of brigade and regimental commanders who had won their rank under the eyes of their grim commander.

General Rosecrans, having arranged his plan of battle, had risen early to superintend its execution. General Crittenden, whose headquarters were a few paces distant, mounted at 6 A. M., and with his staff rode to an eminence, where the chief, surrounded by his staff officers, sat on their horses listening to the opening guns on the right. The plan of General Bragg was instantly divined, but no apprehension of danger was felt. Suddenly the woods on the right in the rear of Negley, appeared to be alive with men wandering aimlessly in the direction of the rear. The roar of artillery grows more distinct, mingled with continuous volleys of musketry. It can not be that the veteran brigades of the Right Wing are being driven back. McCook is surely only falling back to secure a position that he can hold for the promised three hours. The rear of a line of battle always presents the pitiable spectacle of a horde of skulkers—men who, when tried in the fierce flame of battle, find, often to their own disgust, that they are lacking in the element of courage. But the sight of whole regiments of soldiers flying in panic to the rear was a sight never seen but on that solitary occasion, before or since, by the Army of the Cumberland. Captain Otis, from his position on the extreme right, who arrives breathless, his horse reeking with foam, to inform General Rosecrans that the Right Wing is in rapid retreat. The astounding intelligence is confirmed a moment later by a staff officer from General McCook, calling for reinforcements. “Tell General McCook,” roared the chief, “to contest every inch of ground. If he holds them, we will swing into Murfreesboro and cut them off.” Then Rousseau, with his reserves, was sent into the fight, and Van Cleve, at the head of Crittenden’s old Shiloh division, came dashing across the fields, with water dripping from their clothing, to take a hand in the fray. Harker’s brigade was withdrawn from the left and sent in on Rousseau’s right, and the Pioneer brigade, relieved at the ford by Price’s brigade, was posted on Harker’s right. The remaining brigades of Van Cleve’s division, Beatty’s and Fyffe’s, formed on the extreme right, and thus an improvised line half a mile in extent, presented a new and unexpected front to the approaching enemy. It was a trying position to Van Cleve’s men to stand in line, a living wall, while the panic-stricken soldiers of McCook’s beaten regiments, flying in terror through the woods, rushed past them, the sharp rattle of McCown’s musketry behind them lending wings to their flight. The Union lines could not fire, for their comrades were between them and the enemy. Rosecrans seemed ubiquitous. All these dispositions had been made under his personal direction. Finding Sheridan coming out of the cedars into which Rousseau had just retired, he directed him to the ammunition train, with orders to fill his cartridge boxes and return to the support of Hazen’s brigade on the edge of the Round Forrest. Captain Morton, with the Pioneers and the Chicago Board of Trade Battery, pushed into the cedars, and disappeared from view simultaneously with Harker. The general course of the tide of stragglers toward the rear struck the turnpike at the point where Van Cleve stood impatiently awaiting the order to advance. All along the line men were falling, struck by the bullets of the enemy, who soon appeared at the edge of the woods on Morton’s flank. The