'Nobody ran': Cowboy poet recited lines about his ancestor's regiment. Here's a deeper look at the 46th Illinois at Shiloh

Dick and James Hart at 46th Illinois monument in 2012 (Picket photo)

By day, Dick Hart was a range land ecologist for the U.S. Department of Agriculture in Wyoming. When he wasn’t out studying miles of grasslands, he would take that experience and a good ear for rhyme and meter to become a cowboy poet -- the “Poet Laureate of Cheyenne.”

Now retired, Hart once said he wrote about “stuff I did on the (Iowa) farm growing up, things that happened to me, the people I worked with, the peculiarities of the critters I work with – cattle, horses and wild critters.”

He created a poem about a “stupid steer that ran in front of a pickup driven by a herdsman,” his son James told me my phone. “They called him 'Tripod' after that.”

And there’s this sly 1995 verse:

Mary went a-walkin'
In the tall and rain-wet grass;
When Mary got back to the house
She was wet up to her... knees.
And he said, "Oh, an' if the grass had been taller, that woulda been cowboy poetry!"

I knew none of this on April 6, 2012, when I met father and son at Shiloh National Military Park in Tennessee. Some 150 years before, to the day, their ancestor, Pvt. James Hart, desperately fought with comrades of the 46th Illinois Volunteer Infantry to stem a furious Confederate assault.

The 46th eventually was forced back to Jones Field, where it rallied to re-engage Confederate forces that same day. On April 7, the unit helped force the Rebels back toward Shiloh Church.

I called the Harts on Sunday afternoon to catch up and talk about Dick’s cowboy poetry. Dick, 85, was taking a nap and has difficulty hearing phone calls, so James and I reminisced about their trip to Shiloh.

I remember that pretty spring day in 2012, as I darted across the park to attend sesquicentennial programs, hikes and to see landmarks of the battlefield. I came across the Harts, both dressed in replica Yankee uniforms, at the monument to the 46^th.

At some point, Dick mentioned his ancestor and I recorded his charming poem about the 46^th -- “Nobody Ran.”

The second of seven stanzas set the premise for the challenge the 46^th met that day. The regiment was assigned to the Second Brigade, 4th Division, Army of the Tennessee. The brigade was commanded by Col. James C. Veatch (25th Indiana) and consisted of the 14th, 15th, and 46th Illinois Infantry, along with the 25th Indiana Infantry.

At Shiloh, on a bloody April day
We thought, as we faced the men in gray,
“When this fight’s over, can we still say
In the 46th, nobody ran?”

Histories of the battle and the unit indicate the courage shown by officers and men on those two days in April. Stacy D. Allen, chief park ranger for interpretation at Shiloh, sent me a summary of the 46^th’s casualties during the battle. Twenty-five men died and 134 were wounded and one man was missing.

“Their battle loss of 160 totaled 22.5% of the effective strength of 710 reported engaged, which is slightly less than the 26.75% total percentage of losses recorded among the effective force engaged (e.g. 39,830 officers and men) among the organizations assigned to the five divisions of Grant's army present on the field when battle began on Sunday.” Regimental commander Col. John A. Davis was among those wounded.

By any measure, that is a significant casualty rate.

Col. Veatch

According to the book, “Shiloh and Corinth: Sentinels of Stone,” the 46^th Illinois showed its valor on April 6, when the Confederate army almost swept Federal forces from the field and into the river. The regiment was encamped north of Corinth Road and moved up when it heard the sound of gunfire that morning.

“The 46^th could see an oncoming tide of gray and butternut soldiers advancing,” according to the book. “The soldiers of the 46^th were stunned when the Federal regiment in the front turned tail and ran. The rattled soldiers broke through the ranks of the 46^th Illinois in an effort to escape the Confederate juggernaut.”

The Illinois boys poured on heavy fire to slow the assault, but the retreat of an adjoining regiment forced them to withdraw. The brigade was forced to retreat a second time, but the regiment fought valiantly later that day in Jones Field and in other locations.

Now the 46^th stood to their work
Carpenter, farm boys, dry goods clerk
You couldn’t let your comrades see you shirk
So in the 46^th,  nobody ran

Brigade commander Col. James C. Veatch later wrote that Davis “displayed coolness and courage in resisting the heavy columns thrown against them.” Davis was severely wounded on the second day. (He would die in October 1862 from wounds suffered in a battle in Tennessee.)

Davis, in his official report, said his men “did not waver under the fire of the enemy.”

And the division commander praised his troops, saying they held under “the most terrific fire” the key point of the left of the army on April 6, to withdraw only under overwhelming numbers. On Monday, April 7, they held the line and contributed to the Union victory at Shiloh.

Dick Hart wrote in a 2004 publication of the Society for Range Management that the Battle of Shiloh was found by two amateur armies. “Thousands in both armies turned and ran: Union soldiers huddled under the banks of the Tennessee River; Confederate soldiers disappeared into the woods."

Dick Hart at monument to Col. Veatch (Courtesy of James Hart)

The Hart family previously visited Shiloh in 1998 and noted on the 46^th marker that only one man in the regiment was listed as missing, buttressing Dick’s point that “nobody ran.”

I asked James Hart whether his dad has written another Civil War poem, but he couldn’t recall one. Dick Hart has published three books, including “Rhymes of a Rexall Wrangler” and “Return of the Rexall Wrangler.”

James Hart, 56, said the 2012 trip to Shiloh had been planned for eight to nine months. They stayed for all three days of the sesquicentennial.

“I remember the luminaries they put out. That was something awesome. It’s hard to believe they put that out for every dead person,” he said.

The men of the 46^th held the line as long as possible, James added.

His father put it succinctly in “Nobody Ran.”

Well, I fought my fight and gained no fame
No commendations bear my name
But still I’m proud to make my claim,
In the 46^th, nobody ran

William H. Lytle: Remembering gallant poet-warrior who fell at Chickamauga

Brig. Gen. William Haines Lytle, son of pioneers, man of letters, warrior of old, spoke these gallant words as a horde of Confederates surrounded his brigade on the bloody battlefield at Chickamauga:

"If I must die, I will die as a gentleman. All right, men, we can die but once. This is the time and place. Let us charge."

Lytle, on horseback, led a determined but doomed counterattack on Sept. 20, 1863. He was shot in the spine and subsequently in the head. The Cincinnati, Ohio, hero and popular poet-warrior handed his sword to a soldier before dying of his wounds.

His Union comrades were forced from the field, leaving Lytle’s remains lying among the Georgia pines.

And then something remarkable happened.

Confederate troops, some of whom he knew from service in the Mexican-American War, posted an honor guard around Lytle’s remains before they were returned to Federals. His poems were reportedly read around campfires that evening.

Lytle had been twice wounded in previous Civil War battles and was a prisoner of war for a brief time. Admiring officers from the 10th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, with whom Lytle served at the beginning of the conflict, only weeks before the Battle of Chickamauga had presented him a gold meal, decorated with an emerald and a star of diamonds.

Lytle's coat (Cincinnati Museum Center)

It wasn’t just his bravery that accorded such an honor at Chickamauga.

Lytle, 36, was known across North and South for his poetry, much of which was composed before the war. The general continued to write during the war.

Lytle’s most famous composition, “Antony and Cleopatra,” was published a few years before Confederate guns opened up on Fort Sumter in Charleston Harbor.

I am dying, Egypt, dying;

Hark!  the insulting foeman's cry;

They are coming; quick, my falchion !

Let me front them ere I die.

Ah, no more amid the battle

Shall my heart exulting swell;

Isis and Osiris guard thee,

Cleopatra, Rome, farewell!

Lytle’s messages of mortality and man were popular during the Victorian era.

The area on the Chickamauga battlefield where the general led his brigade is known appropriately as Lytle Hill.

The setting is serene, says Patrice Glass, executive director of Friends of the Park, which is financially helping the National Park Service restore Lytle’s monument at Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park.

Courtesy of SUVCW, Lytle Camp

The monument, a pyramid of artillery shells, is down to one level after years of vandalism and the use of some of the cannonballs to repair other memorials.

This Sept. 20, the fully restored monument will be dedicated at a solemn ceremony marking the 150^th anniversary of the momentous battle in northern Georgia, which ended in a Southern victory.

Among those attending will be members of the General William H. Lytle Camp #10 of the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War (SUVCV), which also raised money for the project.

That contingent may be bringing descendants of the Lytle family, which was among the founding fathers of Cincinnati. Lytle was a bachelor.

Glass and others say the treatment accorded to Lytle’s body is an early example of North and South coming together.

“That’s a great story and it goes to the heart of what happened here after the battle – reunification,” she recently told the Civil War Picket.

Lytle tactic books, medal (Cincinnati Museum Center)

The Cincinnati Museum Center, beginning last weekend and continuing through Oct. 27, has an exhibit of items from its collection marking the city’s involvement in the Civil War during 1863.

Among the Lytle items are his frock coat, sword, gold medal, liquor cabinet and tall boots.

Lytle was a lawyer and politician before the Civil War. His grandfather founded Williamsburg, Ohio, and his father was a well-known orator and Ohio congressman.

“Called Will by friends and family, Lytle was described as slight in build, but well developed with gray eyes and a resolute character,” according to a 2008 article in the Murfreesboro (Tenn,) Post.

The article said the chivalrous Lytle received is gift of prose from his mother and his eloquence from his father. Lytle provided vivid details of his wartime service in Mexico and other aspects of his life and studies.

From “When the Long Shadows”:

Ah! whereso'er the closing scene may find me,

'Mid friends or foemen or in deserts lone,

May there be some of those I leave behind me

To shed a tear for me when I am gone. 

Lytle liquor cabinet, boots (Cincinnati Museum Center)

Lytle was wounded in September 1861 at Carnifex Ferry and in October 1862 at Perryville, where he was taken prisoner before an exchange shortly afterward. The Ohioan was given brigade command in November 1862.

The poet-warrior’s funeral in Cincinnati weeks after the Battle of Chickamauga  was a major event, said Kerry Langdon, past commander of the Lytle Camp of the SUVCV.

“His family is a favorite family in the history of Cincinnati, Ohio,” said Langdon. “He was a learned man, a very articulate poet.”

Lytle Park is among several Cincinnati venues named for the general.

Langdon said the Sept. 20 ceremony will include a tribute to Lytle’s poetry.

From “Lines to My Sisters”:

“In vain for me the applause of men,
The Laurel won by sword or pen,
But for the hope, so dear and sweet,
To lay my trophies at your feet.”

• Previous Picket article on Gen. Lytle