DIFFICULTY OF EXERCISING--EMBARRASSMENTS OF A MORNING WALK--THE RIALTO
OF THE PRISON--CURSING THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY--THE STORY OF THE
BATTLE OF SPOTTSYLVANIA COURTHOUSE.
Certainly, in no other great community, that ever existed upon the face
of the globe was there so little daily ebb and flow as in this. Dull
as an ordinary Town or City may be; however monotonous, eventless,
even stupid the lives of its citizens, there is yet, nevertheless, a
flow every day of its life-blood--its population towards its heart,
and an ebb of the same, every evening towards its extremities. These
recurring tides mingle all classes together and promote the general
healthfulness, as the constant motion hither and yon of the ocean’s
waters purify and sweeten them.
The lack of these helped vastly to make the living mass inside the
Stockade a human Dead Sea--or rather a Dying Sea--a putrefying,
stinking lake, resolving itself into phosphorescent corruption, like
those rotting southern seas, whose seething filth burns in hideous
reds, and ghastly greens and yellows.
Being little call for motion of any kind, and no room to exercise
whatever wish there might be in that direction, very many succumbed
unresistingly to the apathy which was so strongly favored by
despondency and the weakness induced by continual hunger, and lying
supinely on the hot sand, day in and day out, speedily brought
themselves into such a condition as invited the attacks of disease.
It required both determination and effort to take a little walking
exercise. The ground was so densely crowded with holes and other
devices for shelter that it took one at least ten minutes to pick his
way through the narrow and tortuous labyrinth which served as paths
for communication between different parts of the Camp. Still further,
there was nothing to see anywhere or to form sufficient inducement for
any one to make so laborious a journey. One simply encountered at every
new step the same unwelcome sights that he had just left; there was
a monotony in the misery as in everything else, and consequently the
temptation to sit or lie still in one’s own quarters became very great.
I used to make it a point to go to some of the remoter parts of the
Stockade once every day, simply for exercise. One can gain some idea of
the crowd, and the difficulty of making one’s way through it, when I
say that no point in the prison could be more than fifteen hundred feet
from where I staid, and, had the way been clear, I could have walked
thither and back in at most a half an hour, yet it usually took me from
two to three hours to make one of these journeys.
This daily trip, a few visits to the Creek to wash all over, a few
games of chess, attendance upon roll call, drawing rations, cooking
and eating the same, “lousing” my fragments of clothes, and doing some
little duties for my sick and helpless comrades, constituted the daily
routine for myself, as for most of the active youths in the prison.
The Creek was the great meeting point for all inside the Stockade. All
able to walk were certain to be there at least once during the day, and
we made it a rendezvous, a place to exchange gossip, discuss the latest
news, canvass the prospects of exchange, and, most of all, to curse the
Rebels. Indeed no conversation ever progressed very far without both
speaker and listener taking frequent rests to say bitter things as to
the Rebels generally, and Wirz, Winder and Davis in particular.
A conversation between two boys--strangers to each other who came
to the Creek to wash themselves or their clothes, or for some other
purpose, would progress thus:
First Boy--“I belong to the Second Corps,--Hancock’s, [the Army of the
Potomac boys always mentioned what Corps they belonged to, where the
Western boys stated their Regiment.] They got me at Spottsylvania,
when they were butting their heads against our breast-works, trying to
get even with us for gobbling up Johnson in the morning,”--He stops
suddenly and changes tone to say: “I hope to God, that when our folks
get Richmond, they will put old Ben Butler in command of it, with
orders to limb, skin and jayhawk it worse than he did New Orleans.”
Second Boy, (fervently:) “I wish to God he would, and that he’d catch
old Jeff., and that grayheaded devil, Winder, and the old Dutch
Captain, strip ’em just as we were, put ’em in this pen, with just the
rations they are givin’ us, and set a guard of plantation niggers over
’em, with orders to blow their whole infernal heads off, if they dared
so much as to look at the dead line.”
First Boy--(returning to the story of his capture.) “Old Hancock caught
the Johnnies that morning the neatest you ever saw anything in your
life. After the two armies had murdered each other for four or five
days in the Wilderness, by fighting so close together that much of the
time you could almost shake hands with the Graybacks, both hauled off
a little, and lay and glowered at each other. Each side had lost about
twenty thousand men in learning that if it attacked the other it would
get mashed fine. So each built a line of works and lay behind them, and
tried to nag the other into coming out and attacking. At Spottsylvania
our lines and those of the Johnnies weren’t twelve hundred yards
apart. The ground was clear and clean between them, and any force that
attempted to cross it to attack would be cut to pieces, as sure as
anything. We laid there three or four days watching each other--just
like boys at school, who shake fists and dare each other. At one place
the Rebel line ran out towards us like the top of a great letter ‘A.’
The night of the 11th of May it rained very hard, and then came a fog
so thick that you couldn’t see the length of a company. Hancock thought
he’d take advantage of this. We were all turned out very quietly about
four o’clock in the morning. Not a bit of noise was allowed. We even
had to take off our canteens and tin cups, that they might not rattle
against our bayonets. The ground was so wet that our footsteps couldn’t
be heard. It was one of those deathly, still movements, when you think
your heart is making as much noise as a bass drum.
“The Johnnies didn’t seem to have the faintest suspicion of what was
coming, though they ought, because we would have expected such an
attack from them if we hadn’t made it ourselves. Their pickets were
out just a little ways from their works, and we were almost on to them
before they discovered us. They fired and ran back. At this we raised a
yell and dashed forward at a charge. As we poured over the works, the
Rebels came double-quicking up to defend them. We flanked Johnson’s
Division quicker’n you could say ‘Jack Robinson,’ and had four thousand
of ’em in our grip just as nice as you please. We sent them to the rear
under guard, and started for the next line of Rebel works about a half
a mile away. But we had now waked up the whole of Lee’s army, and they
all came straight for us, like packs of mad wolves. Ewell struck us in
the center; Longstreet let drive at our left flank, and Hill tackled
our right. We fell back to the works we had taken, Warren and Wright
came up to help us, and we had it hot and heavy for the rest of the day
and part of the night. The Johnnies seemed so mad over what we’d done
that they were half crazy. They charged us five times, coming up every
time just as if they were going to lift us right out of the works with
the bayonet. About midnight, after they’d lost over ten thousand men,
they seemed to understand that we had pre-empted that piece of real
estate, and didn’t propose to allow anybody to jump our claim, so they
fell back sullen like to their main works. When they came on the last
charge, our Brigadier walked behind each of our regiments and said:
“Boys, we’ll send ’em back this time for keeps. Give it to ’em by the
acre, and when they begin to waver, we’ll all jump over the works and
go for them with the bayonet.’
“We did it just that way. We poured such a fire on them that the
bullets knocked up the ground in front just like you have seen the
deep dust in a road in the middle of Summer fly up when the first
great big drops of a rain storm strike it. But they came on, yelling
and swearing, officers in front waving swords, and shouting--all that
business, you know. When they got to about one hundred yards from us,
they did not seem to be coming so fast, and there was a good deal of
confusion among them. The brigade bugle sounded:
“Stop firing.”
“We all ceased instantly. The rebels looked up in astonishment. Our
General sang out:
“Fix bayonets!’ but we knew what was coming, and were already executing
the order. You can imagine the crash that ran down the line, as every
fellow snatched his bayonet out and slapped it on the muzzle of his
gun. Then the General’s voice rang out like a bugle:
“Ready!--FORWARD! CHARGE!’
“We cheered till everything seemed to split, and jumped over the works,
almost every man at the same minute. The Johnnies seemed to have been
puzzled at the stoppage of our fire. When we all came sailing over
the works, with guns brought right, down where they meant business,
they were so astonished for a minute that they stood stock still, not
knowing whether to come for us, or run. We did not allow them long
to debate, but went right towards them on the double quick, with the
bayonets looking awful savage and hungry. It was too much for Mr.
Johnny Reb’s nerves. They all seemed to about face’ at once, and they
lit out of there as if they had been sent for in a hurry. We chased
after ’em as fast as we could, and picked up just lots of ’em. Finally
it began to be real funny. A Johnny’s wind would begin to give out
he’d fall behind his comrades; he’d hear us yell and think that we
were right behind him, ready to sink a bayonet through him’; he’d turn
around, throw up his hands, and sing out:
“I surrender, mister! I surrender!’ and find that we were a hundred
feet off, and would have to have a bayonet as long as one of
McClellan’s general orders to touch him.
“Well, my company was the left of our regiment, and our regiment was
the left of the brigade, and we swung out ahead of all the rest of
the boys. In our excitement of chasing the Johnnies, we didn’t see
that we had passed an angle of their works. About thirty of us had
become separated from the company and were chasing a squad of about
seventy-five or one hundred. We had got up so close to them that we
hollered:
“‘Halt there, now, or we’ll blow your heads off.’
“They turned round with, ‘halt yourselves; you ---- Yankee ---- ----’
“We looked around at this, and saw that we were not one hundred feet
away from the angle of the works, which were filled with Rebels
waiting for our fellows to get to where they could have a good flank
fire upon them. There was nothing to do but to throw down our guns
and surrender, and we had hardly gone inside of the works, until the
Johnnies opened on our brigade and drove it back. This ended the battle
at Spottsylvania Court House.”
Second Boy (irrelevantly.) “Some day the underpinning will fly out from
under the South, and let it sink right into the middle kittle o’ hell.”
First Boy (savagely.) “I only wish the whole Southern Confederacy was
hanging over hell by a single string, and I had a knife.”