the war
or the individuals concerned in it. The opportunity frequently occurred
for me to defend General Buell against what I believed to be most unjust
charges. On one occasion a correspondent put in my mouth the very
charge I had so often refuted--of disloyalty. This brought from General
Buell a very severe retort, which I saw in the New York World some time
before I received the letter itself. I could very well understand his
grievance at seeing untrue and disgraceful charges apparently sustained
by an officer who, at the time, was at the head of the army. I replied
to him, but not through the press. I kept no copy of my letter, nor did
I ever see it in print; neither did I receive an answer.

General Albert Sidney Johnston, who commanded the Confederate forces at
the beginning of the battle, was disabled by a wound on the afternoon of
the first day. This wound, as I understood afterwards, was not
necessarily fatal, or even dangerous. But he was a man who would not
abandon what he deemed an important trust in the face of danger and
consequently continued in the saddle, commanding, until so exhausted by
the loss of blood that he had to be taken from his horse, and soon after
died. The news was not long in reaching our side and I suppose was
quite an encouragement to the National soldiers.

I had known Johnston slightly in the Mexican war and later as an officer
in the regular army. He was a man of high character and ability. His
contemporaries at West Point, and officers generally who came to know
him personally later and who remained on our side, expected him to prove
the most formidable man to meet that the Confederacy would produce.

I once wrote that nothing occurred in his brief command of an army to
prove or disprove the high estimate that had been placed upon his
military ability; but after studying the orders and dispatches of
Johnston I am compelled to materially modify my views of that officer's
qualifications as a soldier. My judgment now is that he was vacillating
and undecided in his actions.

All the disasters in Kentucky and Tennessee were so discouraging to the
authorities in Richmond that Jefferson Davis wrote an unofficial letter
to Johnston expressing his own anxiety and that of the public, and
saying that he had made such defence as was dictated by long friendship,
but that in the absence of a report he needed facts. The letter was not
a reprimand in direct terms, but it was eviden