[Note: The following is one chapter of a larger work, entitled “1863”
an epic poem on the ‘Turn of Events’ at that time, from two major events
of that year: Vicksburg and Gettysburg.
Several sources have been used and are acknowledged.]
~
“When the Lord of Creation
had finished his Acts,
He had on His hands
a heap of large scraps.
These He then dumped
at Vicksburg, in heaps,”
So heard by someone,
of a soldier once speak.
And this was the place
now under attack:
Twenty-Thousand Rebels,
on a seven mile tract.
Two failed attempts,
thrown by default,
after Gant’s blitzkrieg,
now two failed assaults.
One bloodied nose
and Grant would repose
to settle down now,
entrench and besiege.
The fortress of Vicksburg,
before them arose.
The white whale of Ahab,
the Troy of the West.
Six months at war-work
comes down now to this.
The first two assaults,
was all there would be –
The first cost a thousand;
the second cost three.
Bad! Bad! Damn Bloody Bad!
for the Army of the Tennessee.
The dead and the dying
were left afield lying,
foremost to the city,
affronting the citadel.
For two days – Two Days! –
Two days and counting,
the decadence of death
rising and mounting.
Two days would pass
before the great city,
when the commander
of Rebels rising on Pity,
set forth a request:
“In the name of our God!
and all of Humanity!
A Truce for two hours
should surely be had,
to honor the Fallen
around the vicinity.
In God’s name, the same,
for all of the Dead:
A makeshift grave
and prayers for them said!”
The scuttlebutt grew
where Grant would accrue
the moniker himself
as “The Butcher.”
Of little known facts
that were known about Grant,
there are but only a few.
But, of that the ensanguined
and cadaverous view
repulsed the man greatly –
this very few knew.
In “The Business,” he called it,
War was not neat.
Not pompous, nor gallant;
not glory, but bale.
And Sherman, his friend,
would often repeat:
“No glory to War,
for War is all Hell.”
Time now the watchword,
how long would it take
this Troy of the West
to last before break.
General Joe Johnston
had gathered his men,
but Grant said, “There’s no one
who wants to go in.
Those in there now,
they want to come out.
Should Johnston arrive,
allow him go in.
Then we shall have,
a doubled prison.”
The whole month of June
the Union force loomed
around and about
the redoubt marooned.
How long could they last?
How strong was their nerve?
It was anyone’s guess,
but more than deserved,
as Grant barraged,
besieged and preserved
his siege of surround
all around the interred.
No one would show
to save the poor fortress;
no one would come
to brave Grant’s taut forces,
which by now had doubled,
doubled in size.
All for the fall
of the city in trouble.
Vicksburg was now
the grand prize.
By now, the foodstuff
within was dried,
down to the mule meat,
some canine surprise.
Poor sanitation,
disease on the rise.
No death done in battle,
but disease, how they died.
Two more weeks
weakly went by,
’til surrender thus came
on the Fourth of July.
The Father of Waters
was finally un-vexed,
with the begin to the end
of the Confederate West.
~
©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn
19 August 2013
