Dick had seen Forrest lead one of his matchless charges of cavalry in
their fight that day. With a handful of men he had cut his way through
a solid mass of struggling infantry and thrown them into confusion.
He had watched this grave, silent, unobtrusive man of humble birth and
little education with the keenest interest. He felt instinctively that
he was a man of genius. From to-day he knew that as a leader of cavalry
he had few equals. He had pointed out to his superiors in their council
of war a possible path of escape by a road partially overflowed along
the river banks. It was judged impracticable.
In the darkness of the freezing night Dick rode behind his silent new
commander along this road with perfect faith. Forrest threw his command
into Nashville and saved the city from anarchy when the dreaded news of
the fall of Donelson precipitated a panic.
The South had met her first crushing defeat--a defeat more disastrous
than the North had suffered at Bull Ran. Grant had lost three thousand
men but the Confederate garrisons had been practically wiped out with
the loss of more than fifteen thousand muskets, every big gun and
thirteen thousand prisoners of war.
When Grant met Buckner, the victor and vanquished quietly shook hands.
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