There was but one thing to do. The wrangling generals were unanimous on
that point. They must make a desperate assault next morning on Grant's
right wing and reestablish their communications with Nashville at all
hazards.
Under cover of the darkness on the morning of the fifteenth, the men
were marched from their trenches and massed on the Federal right. But a
handful were left to guard the entrenchments on the Confederate right.
At the first streak of dawn, the concentrated lines of the Confederates
were hurled on the division of McClernand. Before two o'clock Grant's
right wing had been crushed into a shapeless mass with the loss of his
artillery. The way was open to Nashville and the discordant commanding
generals of the Confederacy paused.
Buckner ordered up his artillery and reserves to pursue the enemy or
hold his newly-won position. Pillow flatly refused to allow a single gun
to be withdrawn from the entrenchments and sent peremptory orders to his
victorious subordinate to return to the trenches on the right.
As Buckner was reluctantly returning to the old lines he encountered
Floyd.
"Where are you going?" the Commander-in-Chief demanded.
"I am ordered back to the entrenchments--"
"You think it wise to walk back into the trap we've just escaped from?"
"I do not!" was the short answer.
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