When Georgia seceded from the United States on January 19, 1861, Benjamin A. Pickren was just a boy of 13 on his father’s farm in Muscogee County, GA. By the time of the 1864 Census for the Reorganization of the Georgia Militia, he was 16 years, 4 months of age, and for a desperate Confederacy that was old enough to fight. He was a big lad at 5′ 11″, blond-haired and blue-eyed. Within two months, he was married and was soon in service in the Confederate States Army. He was mustered in as a private the Berrien Minute Men, Company G, 29th Georgia Infantry Regiment. Casualties were so high that by the time he was 17, he was promoted to sergeant.
From the late spring into the summer of 1864, the Berrien Minutemen and the 29th Regiment were in northwest Georgia with General Johnston’s Army of Tennessee. The Confederates had been forced to retreat before the relentless advance of General Sherman’s U.S. Army toward Atlanta. July 4, 1864 found the Berrien Minute in the line of battle at Marietta, GA. After dark, the Confederate forces fell back to the the Chattahoochee River. In a letter to his wife, John William Hagan wrote about the retreat and his confidence in the defensive earth works of General Joseph E. Johnston’s River Line. But again, the Confederates were forced to retreat to avoid encirclement. By mid-July with the loss of Atlanta imminent , General Johnston was relieved of command and General John Bell Hood took over. The Battle of Atlanta loomed.
The events of July 22, 1864 were still etched in Benjamin A. Pickren’s memory in 1905, even after four decades of work as a railroad engineer. In retirement, he wrote about his service in the Berrien Minute Men in a letter to the editor of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers’ Monthly Journal.
Experience of a Confederate Soldier.
SPOONER, GA., July 22, 1905. EDITOR JOURNAL: Today is the forty-first anniversary of the great battle fought between General Sherman, of the Federal army, and General Hood, of the Confederate army, near the city of Atlanta, Ga., in 1864, in which I was a participant in gray uniform. Perhaps this narrative may interest some and not others. However, I thought I would give you a small outline of my experience in war, as railroading has become a thing of the past with me, though I feel as deep interest, it seems to me, as I ever did.
On the day of the battle I was detailed on picket duty, which was an advanced line of skirmishers under command of Major Shoaff of the Second Georgia Battalion of sharpshooters [actually Major Arthur Shaaf, 1st Battalion GA Sharp Shooters].
The line of skirmishers was deployed in advanced line with a guide center march of nearly two miles through one of the greatest blackberry fields I ever saw. We had marched so far in fighting position and found nothing to fight until we became careless and commenced to pick and eat the delicious black berries.
At last, to our surprise, a gun was fired within fifty yards of our front, and one of our non-commissioned officers, Roland Griffin, fell dead within six feet of myself. [Rowland H. Griffin was a substitute who had been hired to take the place of John F. Parrish.]
At the same instance up jumped the boys in blue that had fired the fatal shot, endeavoring to reach their main line about one-quarter of a mile in our front, but they never reached it, as there were too many good marksmen in close range of them. The picket line was commanded to halt, lie down and shoot to hold the enemy in check until reinforcements came up from our rear. We did so, repulsing two picket charges. At the close of the second charge, we, the picket line, were ordered to hold our positions and not allow anyone to cross our line, unless wounded or a staff officer. I was at a loss to know what it meant, but soon after the order was given, my comprehension was clear. Looking back over the field we had marched and fought over, I saw a full line of battle advancing towards our enemy, although Major Shoaff and his pickets were between them. As soon as the advancing line reached our line and passed over it, the command was given to Major-General Walker to charge, and the heat of battle began. The booming of artillery, the rattling of small arms, and the yells of the advancing or charging line so enthused Major Shoaff that he also commanded the picket line to charge and the command was obeyed. There was a mill pond directly in front of our line which had been recently drained, and the men undertook to charge through it, and were mired down to their waists, and I had to give up the undertaking. The charge was successful both to the right and left of the pond; but we were repulsed on the center on the pond’s account, but were soon reinforced and surrounded the pond and gained possession in front of the battery of artillery that was direct in front of the pond that had slain so many of our comrades with grape and canister, together with our much beloved Division Commander, General Walker. We held the field of battle until dark, and in the shadow of the darkness the battlefield was evacuated, and a new line established back towards Atlanta in the edge of the woods we had previously marched through.
Poor me was detailed on vidette duty, which is the advanced part in hostilities. I was stationed in the midst of the battlefield, among the dead, still lying where they had fallen. Imagine, for a moment, the ghastly and horrible position I was placed in. I took a position upon my knees, so I could jump and run if necessary, with gun in hand, ready to throw it down and run, with my head near the ground in order to keep the light of the sky close down, so if the enemy did approach I could see them before they were upon me.
While in this position I took it for granted that my rear was guarded by my comrades, and had no fear of any rear approach; but here was my mistake, when I was spoken to by some one behind me that had crept up to me, but not looking for me, he was as badly frightened as I was. The first I knew of his approach was his addressing me, “Who is that?” I jumped up, wheeling around; with my gun in his face I demanded who he was. Oh, how it sounded when he told me his name, Richardson, of some Indiana regiment. He gave the number, but I did not care for it as he was my prisoner of war. He told me that he was hunting the body of a dead brother that had fallen near where he and I were, and begged me to let him go and hunt his brother, but at that time and place the Rothschild fortune could not have bought him from me, as the capture of a prisoner was the only excuse justifiable to allow a picket to leave his post, and I was determined to go clear to Atlanta with him if I could get there. So he and I started from the deadly battlefield to the rear.
We had gone but a short distance when I heard the familiar walk of Lieutenant Holcomb of General Stephen’s [Clement H. Stevens] staff, who had established the picket post and placed me where I was. I hailed him. [Twenty-five-year-old Josiah Law Holcombe was a native of Savannah and an alumnus of the Georgia Military Institute]. I knew his walk by the large rowels in his spurs tinkling on the gravel. He informed me that there was immediate danger of an attack from General Sherman and he was closing in the picket post and was glad he had found me. I have always thought only for me leaving the post with my prisoner, I would have been captured or killed where he had placed me, as I don’t think he would have ventured out to relieve me; but my hopes were all dismantled when he relieved me of my prisoner and directed me to a new post that had been established in the woods between the battlefield and General Hardy’s corps. He also said that the men were so fatigued that they had doubled the picket post; hence, he gave me directions to go and when about three hundred yards from where we stood, I must whistle. I did so and was answered.
When I reached the post under a large squatty oak I was glad to find one of my own company, John Peoples. He at once proposed to me to take turn about and one sleep at a time, as he was worn out. I told him he could sleep if he chose to, but my adventures up to that time had so enthused me I could not sleep if I tried. He removed his accoutrements and was soon snoozing to such an extent I had to keep prodding him. This was about midnight. I sat on the root of the big tree with my gun and back against it, listening with all my ears. At intervals I could hear commands given in the brush in front of me and they seemed so distinct at times, and so close, I was afraid to wake up John for fear the commands were imaginations as he was one of the greatest teases on earth. So I sat and listened. I could still hear the well understood commands-“Battalion, halt!” Heard it repeated down the line-could hear the command, “Attention, Battalion, guide center, forward, march!” At last the command to halt was so distinct and so close that I made up my mind to wake up my comrade, joke or no joke.
I had reached around the tree to where he lay asleep and given him a severe jerk; at that instant the pickets at our right line commenced a rapid fire down the line to the first one to our right. I threw down my gun at an angle of about forty-five degrees and fired, as instructed. Directly in front of me, not more than forty or fifty feet, I saw from the blaze of my gun in the dark bushes, a stand of U. S. collars and at least fifteen or twenty men’s faces. My comrade and I made for the rifle pit where the picket line was established. We had to face a regular fire of arms from our own comrades in going to the pits. Poor John had his right arm shot off when he reached the pit, or shot so badly it had to be amputated.
The Federals commenced digging and putting up fortifications where they were when the pickets fired upon them. The next morning rations were issued for the 29th Georgia Regiment for upwards of four hundred men, and I think one hundred and twenty-nine men drew them.
My company, G, was the largest in the regiment and ranked among the smallest after that day. I hope my brother soldier Richardson still lives and may read this article and verify the correctness of it.
Fraternally yours, B. A. PICKREN.
Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineer’s Monthly Journal, Volume 39
In the Battle of Atlanta, July 22, 1864, near Decatur, GA the 29th Georgia Regiment was decimated. In the Berrien Minute Men Company G, Captain Edwin B. Carroll, Sgt William Anderson, 2nd Lieutenant Simeon A. Griffin, 2nd Lieutenant John L. Hall, Captain Jonathan D. Knight were among those captured. James A. Crawford was mortally wounded. Levi J. Knight, Jr. was wounded through the right lung but would survive. Robert H. Goodman was killed. In the Berrien Minute Men Company K, Wyley F. Carroll, James M. Davis, James D. Pounds, William S. Sirmans, and Jonas Tomlinson were captured. John W. Hagan was reported dead, but was captured and sent to Camp Chase. Among many other soldiers captured from the 29th Georgia regiment were Captain John D. Knight, 2nd Lieutenant John L. Hall, Jonas Tomlinson.
(To be continued).
Related Posts:
- Captain Edwin B. Carroll and the Atlanta Campaign
- Berrien Minute Men at Johnson’s Island Prison, Ohio
- Edwin B. Carroll, Captain of the Berrien Minute Men
- Berrien Minute Men and the Shoupades
- John W. Hagan Encounters the Georgia Melish
- There Is Nobody Killed But A Private Or Two
- Campfires of the Berrien Minute Men
Ray City History Blog 