CHAPTER XIV.
THE FALL OF FORT DONELSON.
The Spirit of Partisanship. My Opinions with Regard to the Invincibility of the Southern Soldiers. Unprepared to sustain the Humiliation of Defeat. The Beginning of the End. At Fort Donelson. The Federal Attack expected. Preparations for the Defence. The Garrison confident of their Ability to hold the Fort. The Difference be tween Summer and Winter Campaigning. Enthusiasm supplanted by Hope and Determination. My Boy Bob and I go to Work in the Trenches. Too much of a good Thing. Dirt-Digging not exactly in my Line The Federals make their Appearance. The Opening of the Battle. On picket Duty in the Trenches at Night. Storm of Snow and Sleet. The bitter Cold. Cries and Groans of the Wounded. My Clothing stiff with Ice. I find myself giving Way, but manage to endure until the Relief comes. Terrible Suffering. Singular Ideas. A four Days' Battle. The Confederate Successes on the first and second Days. The Gunboats driven off. Desperate Fighting on the third Day. A breathing Spell. The Confederates finally driven back into the Fort. It is resolved to surrender. Generals Floyd and Pillow make their Escape. General Buckner surrenders to General Grant. Terrible Scenes after the Battle is over. The Ground strewn for Miles with Dead and Dying. Wounded Men crushed by the artillery Wagons. The Houses of the Town of Dover filled with Wounded. My Depression of Spirits on Account of the terrible Scenes I had witnessed.
AM a partisan, by instinct and by education. It is an impossibility for me to limit or divide my affections and predilections; and in choosing a side in a great contest like that which was waged between the South and the North, I must do so with my whole heart and soul. Others, abler than myself, may have done more to promote the cause of Southern independence, and may have labored with greater efficiency; but no man or woman in the whole Confederacy was inspired by a more ardent devotion to the cause than myself, or had greater faith in its ultimate success, no matter what odds it might be compelled to contend against. I trusted to my impulses, perhaps, more than to my reason; but every
