underbrush at times, they still were discernible. So to Peachtree Creek I went, following the same course that was followed by the tiny horse cars some thirty years ago. But the horse car was gone, together with the horses, and instead of the mellow tinkle of the little bells that used to sway from the collars of the horses, was heard the crash of heavy cars and the restless honk-honk of hurrying automobiles. Nor was there a terminus at which one might alight and continue his way through the woods to the old creek. On and on the big cars thundered, crossing the creek and speeding forward to some remote suburb, followed, or passed, as the case might be, by the endless procession of automobiles and trucks.
The journey was made along a beautiful boulevard, which gained proportions of real magnificence as my destination was reached, and which maintained these proportions long after the broad sweep across Peachtree Creek. This wonderful highway penetrated the very heart of what had been a wilderness, and reaching out from it in all directions were other boulevards, flanked by stately homes. A beautiful and truly marvelous transformation; a transformation so thorough that I was completely lost. The creek was the only thing unchanged. It still made its tortuous way through what had been a wilderness, swift and red, as the waters were on those hot and terrible days when men fought upon its banks with so much of courage and so much of desperation, and when many sank into its turbid breast to find the peace that had been denied them in life.
All else was changed. A passenger station nearby poured out its baggage-laden throng. The cry of "taxi, taxi," floated across the valley. Street cars clanged. Here and there negroes propelled hand mowers across velvet-like lawns, where children played. In the distance smoke issued from stacks and drifted lazily away. Industry, too, had made its invasions. Clearly the days of hickory nut hunting and of swimming a la nature were things of the past. The vast solitude where men had fought and died and made glorious history existed no longer.
The old battle ground in this quarter has become a scene of beauty that might furnish the inspiration for an epic. The homes, many of them ranking among the most beautiful in Atlanta, set far back from the thoroughfares and are surrounded by grounds whose generous depth and native charm are suggestive of dignity and repose. A tablet here and there marks some spot where the tide of war reached the flood but by no other tokens could one learn that armies once were locked in fierce embrace upon this Very ground. Thus Atlanta has demonstrated that its powers of transformation are in no wise circumscribed.
Another day I rode for many miles about the City, over winding boulevards that skirted the high hills and swept gracefully through the valleys, passing many points where history was made — and graves were filled — while the armies in blue and the armies in gray fought for possession of the city, and it was not of war, but of peace at its best, that these scenes spoke.
It was mid-April, and every green thing seemed eager to become clothed with the vesture of Summer. Trees and shrubs put forth their tender shoots, covering hills and valleys with the most delicate shades and making the stately pines appear almost black. Wild honeysuckle splashed the hillsides with color, and here and there dogwood blossoms stood out like patches of snow left by reluctant Winter. Peach orchards were in bloom, and in more isolated places the ground was carpeted with purple violets, so thick at times that one scarcely could walk without stepping upon them. Scars nowhere, but beauty and peace everywhere!
Thus, as Atlanta reaped the fury of the storm of 1861-65, because of her great zeal for those principles for which the South poured out its wealth and its blood, so she has reaped the full and gracious fruits of peace because of the courage with which she faced the future and the zeal with which she led in the long, hard struggle to realize for the South the splendid heritage that remained, in spite of the devasting influences of war. As she was doubly punished then, she has been doubly rewarded since.
The first thrill of apprehension concerning the future of Atlanta as ''The Citadel of the Confederacy," came in the wake of the victory achieved by the Union forces at Chattanooga, where General Bragg, after a brilliant victory at Chickamauga, was overwhelmed, meeting the defeat which led to his voluntary retirement and the appointment of General Joseph E. Johnston as his successor.
General Sherman had assisted General Grant in the Chattanooga campaign, and shortly thereafter, upon the appointment of Grant as Lieutenant-General of the armies of the United States and his retirement to Virginia, Sherman was put in charge of the Department of Mississippi, which included Tennessee and Georgia. That General Sherman was fully alive to the value of Atlanta to the Confederacy, both morally and materially, there is no doubt, and every step in the game of strategy he played had for its ultimate aim the capture of this city.
The force which General Sherman directed against Atlanta, at the opening of the campaign, consisted of a fraction under one hundred thousand men, while General Johnston had at his disposal approximately forty-three thousand. Before the campaign was well under way, Sherman was reinforced by 14,000 cavalry, and later Blair's corps, consisting of 9,000 men, was added to his force. Meanwhile General Johnston received re-enforcements aggregating about 23,000. His army reached the maximum of fighting strength at the battle of Kennesaw Mountain, where he had 59,248 effectives.
With the approach of the Union forces, before whose overwhelming numbers the Confederates were being forced slowly to retire, apprehension began to be felt among the citizens of Atlanta, and every effort was made to insure the safety of the City. The Federals had begun (May 1, 1864) the repair of the Western and Atlantic Railroad between Ringgold and Chattanooga, with the obvious purpose of providing an unfailing source of supply, and meanwhile continued pressure was brought against the Confederate lines.
On April 26, 1864, ''The Intelligencer " called public attention to the peril of Atlanta, and shortly thereafter active preparations were under way for the defense of the city by Atlanta citizens. On May 9, notices were published calling upon "all persons between the ages of sixteen and sixty, not in the service of the Confederate States," to appear at the city hall "for the purpose of being armed and equipped for local defense." The "Local Militia" was organized among the forces thus enlisted, and on May 17 there was an inspection of troops for local defense, characterized at the time as "the finest military display in every respect that had ever been witnessed in Atlanta." From which one may well infer that the men of sixty and the boys of sixteen made a brave and gallant showing as they paraded along Marietta Street
With the passing of the days, apprehension grew, and on May 23, a proclamation was issued by Mayor James M. Calhoun, in the following language:
"In view of the dangers which threaten us, and in pursuance of a call made by General Wright and General Wayne, I require all male citizens of Atlanta, capable of bearing arms, without regard to occupation, who are not in the Confederate or State service, to report by 12 M., on Thursday, the 26th inst., to O. H. Jones, marshal of the city, to be organized into companies and armed, and to report to General Wright when organized. And all male citizens who are not willing to defend their homes and families are requested to leave the city at their earliest convenience, as their presence only embarrasses the authorities and tends to the demoralization of others. "
The extreme gravity of the situation may be gauged by the fact that no age limit was observed in the Mayor's proclamation, its provisions applying to ''all male citizens," instead of to those between the ages of sixteen and sixty, as theretofore.
Four days after the issuance of this proclamation. May 27, 1864, the people of Atlanta heard for the first time the thunder of the guns which ultimately were to play such havoc in their fair City. The enemy had reached their gates. The Federals had been repulsed at Rocky Face Ridge and Mill Creek Gap; Wheeler's cavalry had put Stoneman's cavalry to flight near Tunnel Hill, but the Confederates had met a severe repulse east of Oostanaula. The desperate battle of New Hope church had been fought, darkness bringing it to a close with indecisive results. On the 27th there was terrific fighting between Cleburne s division and the Fourth Federal Corps near Pickett's Mill, in which heavy losses were inflicted upon the Federals, but the following day the Confederates met a severe repulse.
Fighting desperately, .and scoring occasional local victories, the Confederates nevertheless were forced back steadily, and on June 4th General Johnston abandoned Acworth and Altoona, retiring to a position near Kennesaw Mountain, where occurred one of the most spectacular battles