The night before this beautiful spring Sabbath morning the Confederate
army had bivouacked within two miles of the Federal front. Johnston had
so baffled the scouts and reconnoitering parties of Grant that his
presence was not suspected.
In the gray mists of the dawn his divisions silently deployed and formed
in line of battle. General Leonidas Polk on the left, Braxton Bragg in
the center, William J. Hardee on the right and John C. Breckinridge in
reserve.
The men were alert and eager to avenge the defeats of Forts Henry and
Donelson. With chuckles of exhilaration they had listened that night to
the rolling of the drums in Grant's camps.
A mist from the river valley hung low over the fresh budding trees. With
swift elastic tread the gray lines moved forward through the shadows of
the dawn.
So complete was the surprise that not a picket was encountered. Not a
single company of cavalry guarded the flanks of the sleeping army.
The mists lifted and the sheen of white tents could be seen through the
trees.
Only a few of the blue soldiers had risen. They were washing and cooking
their morning meal. Some had sat down to eat at generous mess-chests.
Thousands were yet soundly sleeping in their tents.
On Prentiss' division from flank to flank with sudden fury the gray host
fell.
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