lowering, very typical of the heavy cloud of war that was impending, and
soon burst upon us, in a fierce tempest, that was going to thunder, and
howl, and beat upon us, all day, and for days to come. This day was to
be an eventful, and memorable day to us,--crowded full of incident.
Some time during the night, while we were working like beavers on "Fort
Dodge," infantry had come in, on the line. Soon as they got there they
set in to do what we were doing, to raise, and thicken the line against
the coming of day, and the equally certain coming of battle. When the
day came they also, were ready.
=Gregg's Texans to the Front=
We had been too busy to think about them, at the time, but when we had
gotten done,--and had a little time to look about us, and day had
broken, and the fighting time, as we knew, was drawing near,--we took an
interest in that infantry. Artillerymen are always concerned in their
"supports," in a fight, and we wanted to know who these fellows were, on
whom we had to depend, as battle comrades, in the approaching struggle.
Our minds were quickly made perfectly easy on that score. We found we
had alongside of us "Gregg's" Texas Brigade,--the gallant, dashing,
stubborn fellows who had, as they jocularly said, "put General Lee under
arrest and sent him to the rear," and then, had so brilliantly, and
effectually, stopped Hancock's assault on Hill's right, at the
Wilderness. Better fellows to have at your back, in a fight, couldn't be
found! We knew _that part_ of the line was safe! We mingled together,
and chatted, and got acquainted, and swapped yarns about our several
adventures. We told them how particularly glad we were to have _them_
there, and our personal relations soon grew as cordial as possible.
Our service together on this spot, and our esteem of one another's
conduct in battle, made the Texans and the "Howitzers" ardent mutual
admirers, and fast friends, to the end. Never afterwards did we pass
each other, during the campaign, without hearty cheers, each, for the
other, and friendly greetings and complimentary references to the
"Spottsylvania lines." Gregg's Texans! Noble fellows! Better soldiers
never trod a battlefield. I saw them fight; I saw their mettle tried, as
by fire. They live in my memory as "the bravest of the brave." I hope
Texas is growing more like them!
=Breakfastless, But "Ready for Customers"=
Having got our Fort in shape, and refreshed ourselves a little with a
wash, at the stream back of us, and thinking how nice some breakfast
would be, if we had it, (which we _didn't_, not a crumb!) we got ready
for the business of the day. We sloped the ground downward to the works,
so that the guns would run easily; placed the gun, and saw that it could
poke its muzzle well over the dirt, and look around comfortably in every
direction; got some rails, and chocked her tight, so that she couldn't
run back. Then we got a lot of cartridges, and piled them down safely
behind the works, and in front of the guns, so that we could do very
rapid firing. Lieutenant Anderson called attention to the fact of these
pine woods, in front, which came up to within two or three hundred
yards, and that the enemy could get up very near us, under cover, before
they started to charge, and we would have to put in our work while they
were charging across the narrow open ground. "So," he said, "Have plenty
of 'canister' by your guns. Break loose some canisters from the powder,
so you can double-shot; you'll need it." We cannoneers had already
thought of this; the edge of that wood was in canister range, and we had
put little else but this short range missile in our pile; only a few
case-shots to make it lively for them in the woods before they came out,
and to follow them into the woods, when they were broken, and keep them
going. We were now all ready and waited for customers. They soon came!
It was still early in the morning, about five or six o'clock, and, as
yet, all was quiet in our front; we hadn't even seen a Federal soldier.
Suddenly! out of the woods to our right, just about five hundred yards
in front, appeared the heads of three heavy blue columns, about fifty
yards apart, marching across the open field toward our left. Here was
impudence! Infantry trying to cross our front! _That's_ the way it
seemed to strike our fellows. I don't know whether they knew our guns
were there, but we took it for an insult, and it was with a great deal
of personal feeling, we instantly jumped to our guns and loaded with
case-shot. Lieutenant Anderson said, "Wait till they get half way across
the field. You'll have more chance at them before they can get back
into those woods." We waited, and soon they were stretched out to the
middle of the field. It was a beautiful mark! Three, heavy well closed
up columns, fifty yards apart, on ground gently sloped upward from us,
lovely for ricochet shots,--with their flanks to us, and in easy range.
Dan McCarthy went up to Ned Stine, our acting gunner, who was very deaf,
and yelled in his ear, loud enough for the Federals to hear, "Ned, aim
at the nearest column, the ricochet pieces of shell will strike the
columns beyond." "All right," he bawled back, with his head on one side,
"sighting" the gun. "I've got sight on that column, now. Ain't it time
to shoot?" This instant Anderson sung out, "Section commence firing! and
get in as many shots as you can before they get away." "Yes," shouted
Dan, "Fire!" "Eh?" said Ned, putting his hand up to his ear, "What did
you say?" "I said Fire! you deaf old fool--Fire!" the last, in a tone
calculated for a mile and a half. This fetched him. Ned threw up his
hands (the gunner's signal to fire) and we let drive. All Ned wanted was
a start, he was only slow in hearing. He jumped in now, and we kept that
gun blazing almost continuously. It was the first time Stine had acted
gunner, and he did splendidly here, and until Dibbrell, our gunner, got
back.
Our first shot struck right in the nearest column, and burst, and we
instantly saw a line opened through all three columns, and a great deal
of confusion. The shot from the "Third Piece" struck at another point,
and burst, just right for effect. I am sure not a single shot missed in
that crowd, and we drove them in just as fast as we could. The columns
were pretty badly broken, and in two minutes, they were rapidly crossing
back into that woods, out of which they had come, and disappeared. The
Texans were greatly pleased with this performance. Having nothing to do,
as the enemy was out of effective rifle range, they stood around, and
watched us work the guns, and noticed, with keen interest, the effect of
our shots upon the blue columns, and they made the welkin ring, when the
Federals turned to retire.
=Parrott's Reply to Napoleon's Twenty to Two=
In a minute or two we received notice of our work from another quarter.
That artillery, up there on the hill, beyond the woods, woke up. They
got mad at our treatment of their infantry friends, furiously mad.
"Boom" went a loud report, over the way, and, the same instant, a savage
shriek right over our heads, of a twenty pounder Parrott shell. Another
followed, another, and another. They began to rain over. We could detect
the sound of different shells, three inch rifle, ten pounder Parrott,
and twenty pounder Parrott.
Some fifteen or twenty guns joined in, and they hammered away most
savagely. Most fortunately the treetops of that wood, out in our front,
came up just high enough to conceal us from the enemy. They could see
our smoke, and knew just _about_ our position, but they could not
_exactly see us_, and correct their aim by the smoke of their shells. So
they could not get the _exact_ range. And that makes a great difference,
in artillery firing, as it does in a great many other things. To know
_just about_ and to know _exactly_, are two very different things in
effect, and in satisfaction to the worker. If those people could have
_seen_ our two guns, I suppose they could have smashed them both, and
killed, or wounded every man of us, and their columns could have moved
across our front, in peace, and accomplished this movement they were
trying to get across them for, and about which they seemed very anxious.
As it was, neither man, nor gun, of ours, was touched, though it was hot
as pepper all around there; and our guns stuck there a thorn in their
sides, and broke up that movement altogether.
It seems that those columns were a part of Warren's Corps, and were
trying to push into an interval between our Corps, and A. P. Hill's
Corps, which, under command of General Jubal Early (Hill being very
sick) began just on our left, our position being on the left of
Longstreet's line, near its junction with Hill's. This infantry was
pushing across our front to get into that gap, and make it hot for "Old
Jubal" over there in the woods. But, in order to get to that gap, they
were forced to pass close to us, and across that open field.
Now, at once, to insult us, and to hurt our friends, was a move that we
didn't at all approve, and were not going to stand. And as soon as we
discovered the meaning of this move, we were very earnest to stop it.
Well! we had stopped it once, and driven back the Federal columns of
attack. It remained to see what they were going to do about it. The
Federal artillery thundered at us through the trees. We quietly sat and
waited to see.
In about half an hour, (I suppose they thought we were pulverized by the
fire their guns had been pouring upon us,) we saw those three infantry
columns pouring out of the woods again, at a quick step. We manned the
guns, and waited as before, till they reached the middle of the field.
Then we began to plow up the columns with shrapnel. This time some of
our infantry tried and found it in range for their muskets and they
adjusted their rifle sights and took careful aim, with a rest on the top
of the works. Soon, the columns faltered, then stopped, then broke, and
made good time back to their woods. We could see their officers trying
to rally them, but they refused to hear "the voice of the charmer." Soon
they disappeared!
Then the artillery began to pour in their shells on us more furiously
than ever! The air around us was kept in a blaze, and a roar of bursting
shells, and the ground, all about, was furrowed and torn. We quietly
sat behind our works, and interchanged our individual observations on
what had just taken place, and waited for further developments.
The two rifled pieces of our Battery, and the other rifled guns of our
Battalion, "Cabells," had been laced in position, on a hill half a mile
back of, and higher, than the low hill on which we were. The plan was
for these long range guns to fire over our heads, at the enemy. We
suspected that when that Federal infantry next tried to pass us, they
would try to make a rush. So Lieutenant Anderson sent back to the other
guns, calling attention to this probability, and suggesting that they
should be on the lookout, and reinforce our fire, and try, also, to
divert the Federal artillery, a little. We thought that with eight or
ten rifled guns, added to the fire of ours, and what the infantry could
do, we could sicken that Federal infantry of the effort to get by.
Presently we noticed the fire of the Federal guns increase in violence
to a marked degree. At this savage outburst, Lieutenant Anderson said,
"Boys, get to your guns, that infantry will try to get across under
cover of this." We sprang to the guns, and sure enough, in a minute,
those blue columns burst out of the woods at a double quick. "Open on
them at once men. We can't let them get a start this time," shouted
Anderson. Both guns instantly began to drive at the head of their
columns.
The sound of our guns started our rifle guns on the hill behind. They
opened furiously, and we could hear their shells screeching over our
heads, on into this enemy's columns. We did our best, and the Texans did
what musket fire they could. The enemy still advanced at a run, but this
storm was too much for them. Their columns were torn to pieces, were
thrown into hopeless confusion. They had, by this time, gotten half way
or more across the field, and they made a gallant effort to keep on, but
torn and storm-beaten as they were, they could not stand. The crowd
broke and parted. A few ran on across to the farther woods, and were
captured by Hill's men. The rest, routed and scattered, ran madly back
to the cover they had left. This gave them enough! They gave up the
attempt, and tried it no more.
We thought that Hill's Corps "owed us one" for this job. We certainly
saved them a lot of trouble by thus protecting their flank. They had to
stand a heavy assault by Hancock's Corps, and had very hot work as it
was. If these strong columns, that we were taking care of, had gotten
into that gap, and taken them at disadvantage, they would have had a
hard time, to say the least. Our work left them to deal with Hancock's
Corps alone, which they did to their credit, and with entire success, as
will appear.
That little scheme of our long-range guns on the hill behind, firing
over our heads at the enemy acted very well, for a while. It came to
have its very decided inconvenience to _us_, as well as to the enemy.
When the Federal infantry had retired, those guns turned their fire on
the Federal artillery which was hammering us. They meant to divert their
attention, and do us a good turn. They had better have left us to "the
ills we had." Their line of fire, at that artillery, was exactly over
our position. Very soon their shells got tired travelling over, and
began to stop _with us_. Our Confederate shells were often very badly
made, the weight in the conical shells not well balanced. And so, very
often, instead of going quietly, point foremost, like decent shells,
where they were _aimed_, they would get to _tumbling_, that is, going
end over end, or "swappin' ends" as the Tar Heels used to describe it,
and _then_, there was no telling _where_ they would go, except that they
would _certainly go wrong_. And, they went very wrong, indeed, on this
occasion, in our opinion.
The sound of a tumbling Parrott shell in full flight, is the most
horrible noise that ever was heard!--a wild, venomous, fiendish scream,
that makes every fellow, in half a mile of it, feel that it is looking
for _him particularly_, and _certain_ that it's _going to get him_. I
believe it would have made Julius Caesar, himself, "go for a tree," or
want to, anyhow!
Well! these blood-curdlers came crashing into us, from the rear,
knocking up clouds of dirt, digging great holes, bursting, and raining
fragments around us in the field. We were not firing, and had leisure
to realize the fix we were in. With the enemy hotly shelling us from the
front, and our friends from the rear, obliged to stay by our guns,
expecting an infantry assault every minute, we certainly were in a
pretty tight fix, "'Tween the devil and the deep sea."
It was the only time I ever saw Lieutenant Anderson excited under fire,
but he was excited _now_, and mad too. He said to one of the fellows,
"Go back under the hill, get on a horse, ride as hard as you can, and
tell those men on the hill, what confounded work they are doing, and if
they fire any more shells, here, I will open on them immediately." In a
few minutes it was stopped, with many regrets on the part of our
friends.
=The Narrow Escape of an Entire Company=
In the midst of all this, an incident took place that created a great
deal of amusement. Along the line, just back of and somewhat protected
by the works, the Texans had pitched several of the little "shelter
tents" we used to capture from the enemy, and found such a convenience.
One of these stood apart. It had a piece of cloth, buttoned on the back,
and closing that end up to about eighteen inches from the top, leaving
thus, a triangular hole just under the ridge pole. In this little tent
sat four men, a captain and three privates, all that were left of a
Company in this Texan Brigade. These fellows were playing "Seven-up"
and, despite the confusion around, were having a good time. Suddenly,
one of the shells from the hill behind, struck, tumbled over once or
twice, and stopped, right in the mouth of that tent, the fuse still
burning. The game stopped! The players were up, instantly. The next
moment, one fellow came diving headforemost out of that triangular hole
at the back, followed fast by the other three--the captain last. It only
took "one time and one motion" to get out of that. Soon as they could
pick themselves up, they, all four, jumped behind a tree that stood
there; and then, the fuse went out, and the shell didn't burst.
Everybody had seen the shell fall, and were horror stricken at the
apparently certain fate of those four men. Now, the absurdity of the
scene struck us all, and there were shouts of laughter at their expense.
Despite their sudden, hasty retreat through that narrow hole everyone of
the scamps had held on to his "hand," and they promptly kicked the shell
aside, crawled into the tent again, and continued their little game;
interrupted, however, by jokes from all sides. It was very funny! The
smoking shell, in front, and those fellows shooting through that hole at
the back, and alighting all in a heap, and then the scramble for that
tree. As the shell went out, it was a roaring farce. If it hadn't, it
would have been a tragedy. The Captain said that these three men were
his whole company, and when that lighted shell struck, he thought that
his company was "gone up" for good and all.
Such was about the size to which some of the companies of this Texan
Brigade was reduced.
Well! after we got rid of those shells from the rear we didn't so much
mind the artillery fire from the front, which kept up more or less
through the morning.
What with the wet, cheerless weather, and the mental discomfort of
staying in a place where they were "shooting cannons" at us, and other
kind of shooting might soon be expected, two of our men got sick, and
went back to the position of our guns on the hill in the rear. The
Captain appealed to them to go back, but their health was bad, and they
didn't think the place where we were, _a health resort_. So Captain
McCarthy called for volunteers to take their places, and instantly John
W. Page, and George B. Harrison, of the First Detachment, offered, and
came over to us.
=Successive Attacks by Federal Infantry=
Up to this time we had seen no infantry since their columns had tried to
cross our front. No attack had been made on us and all seemed quiet out
in front, except that artillery. But, out of our sight, over behind the
woods, the enemy was conspiring to break up our quiet in the most
decided manner. About ten o'clock we suddenly caught sight of a confused
appearance down through the woods on our right front. It quickly defined
itself as a line of battle, rapidly advancing. Our pickets fired upon
it, then ran back over the works into our line. The Texans sprang into
rank, we jumped to our guns, and sent a case-shot tearing down through
the woods. Next instant, the Federal line dashed, cheering, out of the
edge of the woods, and came charging at us. As they dashed out, they
were met by a furious storm of bullets, and cannister, which at two
hundred yards tore their ranks. They got about a hundred yards under
that fire, then began to falter, then stopped, tried to stand for a
moment, then with their battle line shot all to pieces, they turned and
broke for the woods in headlong rout. We did our best to help them
along, shooting at them with case-shot as long as we could catch any
glimpse of them, moving back through the trees. Then that Federal
artillery got savage again. We lay low and waited for some more
infantry.
Very soon, here they came again! another line charging on, only to meet
the same fate; shattered lines, hapless disorder, bloody repulse, and
rapid retreat. Several times they tried to reach our lines, and every
time failed, then gave it up for the time.
These various assaults took up the time, I should say from ten-thirty to
twelve o'clock. When they were over, the field, and wood in front of us
displayed a most dreadful scene. The field was thickly strewn with the
dead, and wounded. And just along the edge of the wood, where the
advancing lines generally first met our full fire, in the several
assaults, the dead lay so thick and in such regular order, that it
looked to us like a line of battle, lying down. And the poor wounded
fellows lying thickly about! It was frightful to see and to hear them.
It was a bloody business, their oft-repeated effort to take our line.
Their loss was very severe, ours was almost nothing. The Texan Brigade
in all their assaults had several wounded, none killed; at our guns not
a man was hurt.
One thing that struck me in that fighting was the utter coolness of the
Texan infantry. I watched the soldier next to my gun, and can never
forget his bearing. The whizzing bullets, the heavy storming columns
pouring upon us, the yells and cries of the combatants were enough to
excite anybody, but this fellow was just as easy and deliberate as if he
had been shooting at a mark. He would drop the butt of his musket on the
ground and ram down a cartridge, raise the piece to his hip, put on a
cap, cock the hammer, and then, slowly draw the gun up to his eye, and
shoot. I really don't think that Texan fired a shot that day until the
sight on his gun covered a Federal soldier, and I think it likely he hit
a man every time he shot. It was this sort of shooting that made the
carnage in front so terrible.
And what a confident lot they were! After one or two of these lines had
been repulsed, as the enemy were advancing again, you could hear the men
in the line calling one to another, "Say, boys, don't shoot so quick
this time! Let them get up closer. Too many of them get away, when you
start so soon." Truly they were the unterrified! Our line was so thin;
those storming lines of blue as they came storming on seemed _heavy_
enough to roll over us like a tidal wave. Yet it never seemed to occur
to these fellows that they might be run over. Their only thought was to
"let them get up closer next time." Their only concern was that "too
many of them were getting away." Good men, they were, to hold a line!
_At last_, this furious attempt, by Warren and Hancock, to force our
position ceased. And as we saw, out in front, the heavy losses of the
enemy, and still had every one of our men ready for duty, we thought
"_we_ could stand this sort of thing, if _they_ could, and just as long
as they chose to keep on." They lost in dead and wounded about twelve
hundred men to about four of ours. Certainly, we could stand it! So we
piled some more canister in front of our guns, and watched to see what
they would do next.
The long hours crept on until three o'clock,--when the warming up of the
Federal artillery fire warned us of another attack. Soon came another
stubborn assault by Warren's Corps. Same result. Line after line pushed
out from the woods, only to be hurled back, bleeding and torn, leaving
on the field large additions to the sad load of dead, and wounded, with
which it was already encumbered. They effected nothing! Very little loss
to us, heavy loss to them. We were using double shot of canister nearly
every time, on masses of men at short range; the infantry fire was rapid
and deadly. Our fire soon swept the front clear of the enemy. We piled
up more canister, and waited again.
There was now an interval of comparative quiet. We could walk around,
and talk, and look about us, a little. Now and then a bullet struck the
ground close to us, and presently one of the infantry was struck
slightly. It was plain that a concealed sharp-shooter had our range, and
we began to watch for him. Soon one of us caught a glimpse of him; he
was up a tree some distance out in front, and he would cautiously edge
around the trunk and fire, dodging back behind the trunk to load again.
One of the Texans went over the works, and stole from stump to stump off
toward the left, and for some time was out of our sight. Presently, we
saw that sharp-shooter slyly stealing around the tree, and raise his
rifle. The next instant, we saw a puff of smoke from a bush, off to the
left, and that sharp-shooter came plunging down, headforemost out of the
tree, dead as Hector. Our man had crept round so that when the Federal
slid around the tree, he exposed his body, and the Texan shot him.
Robert Stiles, the Adjutant of the Battalion, who had been, until
lately, a member of our Battery, and was very devoted to it, and his
comrades in it, had come to the lines to see how we were getting on, and
gave us news of other parts of the line. He, Beau Barnes, and others of
us were standing by our guns, talking, when a twenty pounder Parrott
shell came grazing just over our guns, passed on, and about forty yards
behind us struck a pine tree, about two and a half to three feet in
diameter. The shell had turned. It struck that big tree sideways, and
cut it entirely off, and threw it from the stump. It fell in an upright
position, struck the ground, stood, for an instant, and then, came
crashing down. It was a very creepy suggestion of what that shell might
have done to one of us. A few moments after another struck the ground
right by us and ricochetted. After it passed us, as was frequently the
case, we caught sight of it, and followed its upward flight until it
seemed to be going straight up to the sky. Stiles said "There it goes as
though flung by the hand of a giant." Beau Barnes, who was _not_
poetical, exclaimed, "Giant be darned; there ain't any giant can fling
'em like that." He was right!
Strange how the most trivial incidents keep their place in the memory,
along with the great events, amidst which they occurred! I remember the
fall of that tree, and the remark about that shell, and a small piece of
pork which an Arkansas soldier gave me, and which, in jumping to the
guns, I dropped into a mudhole, and never found again, though I fished
for it diligently in the muddy water, and a _pig_, which was calmly
rooting around near our guns, under fire, and which we watched, hoping
he would be hit, so that we could get his meat, before the infantry did,
to satisfy our wolfish hunger, just as distinctly as the several fierce
battles which were fought that day.
About five o'clock the Federal guns on the hill in our front broke out
again into a furious fire. It was a warning! We knew it meant that the
infantry were about to charge again. We got to our guns, and the Texans
stood to their arms. It seems that the balance of Hancock's Corps had
got up, and now, with Warren's, and part of Sedgwick's Corps, formed in
our front, Grant was going to make the supreme effort of the day, to
break our line.
_What we saw_ was that far down in the woods, heavy columns of men were
moving; the woods seemed to be full of them. The pickets, and our guns
opened on them at once. The next moment they appeared, three heavy lines
one close behind the other. As they reached the edge of the woods, our
lines were blazing with fire. But on they came! The first line was cut
to pieces, only to have its place taken by the next, and then, the next.
Closer and closer to our guns they pressed their bloody way, until they
were within fifty yards of us. Heavens! how those men did strive, and
strain to make their way against that tempest of bullets and canister!
It was too much for man to do! They stopped and stayed there, and fired
and shouted, under our withering fire. The carnage was fearful. Their
men were being butchered! Their lines had all fallen into utter
confusion. They could not come on! Despair suddenly seized them! The
next moment a panic stricken cloud of fugitives was fast vanishing from
our view, and the ground over which they had charged was blue with
corpses, and red with blood.
=Eggleston's Heroic Death=
Just here, we of the "Howitzer" suffered our first, and only, loss in
this day's fighting. Cary Eggleston, "No. 1" at third gun, had his arm
shattered, and almost cut away from his body, by a fragment of shell. He
quietly handed his rammer to John Ayres, who that instant came up to the
gun, and said, "Here Johnny, you take it and go ahead!" Then, gripping
his arm with his other hand, partly to stop the fast flowing blood, he
turned to his comrades, and said in his jocular way, "Boys, I can never
handle a sponge-staff any more. I reckon I'll have to go to teaching
school." Then he stood a while, looking at the men working the gun. They
urged him to go to the rear; he would not for a while. When he consented
to go, they wanted to send a man with him, but he refused, and walked
off by himself. As he passed back an infantry officer, seeing what an
awful wound he had, and the streaming blood, insisted that one of the
men should go and help him to the hospital. "No," he said; "I'm all
right, and you haven't got any men to spare from here." So, holding his
own arm, and compressing the artery with his thumb, he got to the
hospital.
His arm was amputated, and a few days after, as the battery passed
through Spottsylvania Court House, we went by the Court House building,
used as a hospital, where he lay on the floor, and bade him "good-bye."
He was just as cheerful, and bright, as ever, and full of eager interest
in all that was going on. Said "Since he had time to think about it, he
believed he _could_ handle a sponge-staff _with one hand_; was going to
practice it soon as he could get up, and would be back at his post
_before long_." The next day, the brave young fellow died. The
"Howitzers" will always remember him tenderly. No braver, cooler warrior
ever lived! Always bright, full of fun in camp, and on the march, he was
at the gun in action, the best "No. 1" I ever saw. One of the few men I
ever knew who really seemed to enjoy a fight. His bearing, when he was
wounded, was simply _heroic_. No wounded knight ever passed off his last
battlefield in nobler sort. All honor to his memory!
John Ayres, the fellow to whom Cary Eggleston handed his rammer, was at
his home in Buckingham County, Virginia, on furlough, when we started on
the campaign. Off in the remote country, he didn't hear of our movements
for several days. The moment he heard it, off he started, walked
thirteen miles to the James River Canal boat; got to Richmond, came up
to Louisa County on the Central Railroad, got off and walked
twenty-three miles across country, guided by the sound of the battle,
and reached his gun just in time to take Eggleston's place as "No. 1"
and finish the fight.
When the enemy had thus broken in such utter rout, and with such fearful
losses, we did hope they would let us alone, for this day at least. We
were wet, and hungry, and nearly worn out working the gun, off and on
all day, and it was late in the afternoon. For an hour or more things
were quiet; the woods in front seemed deserted and still; the Texans
were lying stretched out on the ground, all along the line; many of them
asleep. We cannoneers were wearily sitting about the guns, wishing to
gracious we had something to eat, and could go to bed, even if the _bed
were_ only one blanket, on the wet ground.
Our rifled guns had just been firing at a Federal battery which we could
see, up on the hill in front of us. Watching the effect of the shots, we
saw one of the caissons blown up, and a gun disabled, and soon
confusion. Somebody remarked, "how easy it would be to take that
battery, if any of our infantry were in reach." Just then, we heard loud
cheering, which sounded to us, to be up in the woods, on our left, where
Hill's men were. Someone instantly cried out, "There it goes now! Hill's
men are going to take those guns." We eagerly gathered at the works,
some distance to the left of our guns, where we could see better, and
stood gazing up at the edge of the field, expecting every moment to see
Hill's troops burst out of the woods, and rush upon these guns. Our
attention was absorbed, off there, when, all of a sudden, one of our
fellows who happened to glance the other way, yelled, "Good heavens!
look out on the right." We all looked! There, pouring out of the woods,
yelling like mad men, came the Federal infantry, fast as they could run,
rushing straight upon our line. The whole field was blue with them! When
we first saw them, the foremost were already within one hundred yards of
our works, and aiming for a point about two hundred yards to our right.
The breath was about knocked out of us by the suddenness of the
surprise! It was not Hill's men charging _them_, but these fellows
charging us,--whose yells we had heard, and here they were, right upon
us! In two jumps we were at our gun. We had to turn it more to the
right, and, with the first shot, blow away a light traverse, which was
higher than the level of the gun, before we could bear on their columns.
We sent two or three canisters tearing through their ranks; the Texans
were blazing away, but, they had got too close to be stopped. The next
instant, they surged over our works like a great blue wave, and were
inside.
="Texas Will Never Forget Virginia"=
So sudden was the surprise that they bayonetted two of the Texan
infantry, asleep upon the ground. Soon as they got over they turned, and
began to sweep down the works, on the inside, upon our guns. As the
Texans forced to retire streamed past our guns, leaving us all alone
and unsupported to face the enemy, Lieutenant Anderson said, "Men, the
road is only a little way back of us; we must stay here, and stop these
people, or the Army is cut in two. Run the guns back and open on them.
We can hold them until help comes." We turned the guns round so as to
command the approaching enemy, and chocked them with rails; several men
snatched up the pile of ammunition, and piled it down before the guns in
their new place, then we opened, with double canister.
If ever two guns were worked for all they were worth, those were! I
don't believe any two guns, in the same time, ever fired as many shots
as those two "Napoleons" did. We kept them just _spouting canister_!
Several times _three canisters_ were fired. Billy White, "No. 2," had
only to reach down for them, and he would have loaded the guns _to the
muzzle_ if "No. 1" had given him time. The gun got so hot that, once, in
jumping in to put in the friction primer, the back of my left hand
touched it, and the skin was nearly taken off. The sponge was entirely
worn off the rammer, so "No. 1" stopped sponging out the gun, and only
rammed shot home. We fired so fast that the powder did not have time to
ignite in the gun. After firing the gun, "No. 4" could hardly get the
"primer" in before the gun was loaded, and ready to fire again. So it
went on! It was fast and furious work! And the bullets sounded like bees
buzzing above our heads.
I felt a sharp pain, then a numbness in my right hand. I glanced at it,
and saw that the back of it was cut open, and bleeding. I had to pull
the lanyard with my left hand the rest of the fight. I supposed a bullet
had done it, but was disgusted to see blood on one of the rails, which
chocked our gun, and find that this rail had worked loose, and, when
struck by the recoiling gun wheel, had flown round and struck my hand,
and disabled it. So, it was not an "honorable" wound, even though
received in battle, as it was not done by a missile of the enemy.
Minute after minute, this hot work went on. The enemy, in coming over
our works, and sweeping around, was thrown into disorder, so that they
advanced on us in a confused mass.
In this mass our canister was doing deadly work, cutting lanes in every
direction. Still on they came; getting slower in their advance as the
canister constantly swept away the foremost men. The men in front began
to flinch, they were within thirty yards of us,--firing wildly now. One
good rush! and their bayonets would have silenced our guns! But they
could not face that hail of death any longer; they could not make that
rush! They began to give back from our muzzles.
At that moment, the Texans having rallied under the bank, forty yards to
our right, and rear, came leaping like tigers upon their flank. The
Texans were perfectly furious! It was the first time during the whole
war that they had been forced from a position, under fire, and they were
mad enough to eat those people up. A screaming yell burst out, a
terrific outbreak of musketry, a rush, with the bayonets, and the inside
of our work was clear of all, save the many dead, and wounded, and six
hundred prisoners.
We ran our gun instantly back to its place, in the works, and got
several shots into the flying mob, outside.
Then all was gone, and we were ready to drop in our tracks, with the
exhausting work of the ten minutes that we had held the foe at bay.
General Gregg came up to our gun. With strong emotion he shook hands
with each of us; he then took off his hat, and said, "Boys, Texas will
never forget Virginia for this! Your heroic stand saved the line, and
enabled my brigade to rally, and redeem its honor. It is the first time
it ever left a position under fire, and it was only forced out, now, by
surprise, and overwhelming weight. But it could not have rallied except
for you. God bless you!" This moment Bob Stiles came up at a run. He had
left the guns a few moments before the attack came, and hearing our guns
so busy came back.
When General Gregg told him in a very enthusiastic way what we had done,
he just rushed up to each cannoneer, and hugged him with a grip, strong
enough to crush in his ribs, and vowed he was going to resign his
Adjutancy at once, and come back to the guns.
Pretty soon Major-General Field, commanding part of the line, came
dashing up on his horse, and leaped off. He went round shaking hands
with us, and saying very civil things. He was red hot! He had witnessed
the whole thing from his position, on a hill near by. He said, "When he
saw the Federals roll over our works, and the Texans fall back, he was
at his wits' end. He did not have a man to send us, and thought the line
was hopelessly broken." Then he saw us turn our two guns down inside the
works. He said to his courier, "It isn't possible these fellows will
even attempt to keep their guns there. The enemy will be over them in
two minutes." But as our guns roared, and the enemy slowed down, he
swung his hat, as the courier told us, and yelled out, "By George, they
will do it!" and clapping spurs into his horse he came tearing over to
find the Texans in their line, all solid again. He said to us, "Men, it
was perfectly magnificent, and I have to say that your splendid stand
saved the Army from disaster. If the line had been broken here I don't
know what we should have done."
Of course all this was very nice to hear. We tried to _look_ as if we
were _used to this sort of thing all the time_. But, it was something
for us, young chaps, to have our hands shaken nearly off, by
enthusiastic admirers, in the shape of Brigadier and Major-Generals,
especially as they were such heroic old veterans as Field and Gregg,
and to have the breath hugged out of us by an old comrade. All this
glory was only to be divided up among _nine men_, so there was a big
share for each one. I must confess, it was very pleasant indeed to hear
that men, who were judges, thought we had done a fine thing; and when in
General Orders next day our little performance was mentioned to the
whole army in most complimentary terms, and we knew that the folks at
home would hear it, I am free to say, that we would _not_ have "taken a
penny for our thoughts."
=Contrast in Losses and the Reasons Therefor=
The fight was over, just about as dusk was closing in. In this, and the
fight at five o'clock, the enemy lost about six thousand men, killed and
wounded. In the assaults, at _ten_, _eleven_ and at _three_ o'clock,
they certainly lost between two and three thousand in killed and
wounded, so this day's work cost them about seven or eight thousand in
killed and wounded, besides prisoners.
Our loss was very small. On our immediate part of the line, almost
nothing. In the battery, we had one man wounded at five o'clock. In this
furious close up fight with infantry, with the awful mauling our guns
gave them, strange to say, we had not a man touched. The only blood shed
that day, at the "4th" gun, was caused by that rail striking my hand.
And our battle line was just as it was, in the morning, save for the
hecatomb of dead and dying in front of it, and six hundred prisoners we
held inside.
About these prisoners: Numbers of these men were drunk, and officers
too. One Colonel was so drunk that he did not know he was captured, or
what had happened. The explanation of this fact, I do not profess to
know, but _this_ was what _the men themselves told us_, "That before they
charged, heavy rations of whiskey were issued, and the men made to drink
it. I know that indignant denial has been made of this charge, that the
Federal soldiers were _made drunk_ to send them in, but _this_ I do
_certainly know_, as an eye witness, and hundreds of our men know it
too, that here, on the Spottsylvania line, and at Cold Harbor, and other
times in this campaign, we captured numbers of the men, assaulting our
lines, who were very drunk, and said they were made to drink. And this
fact is one reason for the carnage among them, and the light loss they
inflicted upon us. It made their men shoot wildly, and the moment our
men saw this, they could, with the cooler aim, send death into their
ranks. These hundreds of men going, _drunk_, to face death was a
horrible sight; it is a horrible thought, but _it was a fact_.
=Why Captain Hunter Failed to Rally His Men=
In the quiet time, just before that sudden rush which swept over the
works, Captain Hunter, of the Texans, was frying some pieces of fat
bacon in a frying pan, over a little fire just by our gun. In a flash,
the enemy was over the work, and we were in the thick of battle, and
confusion. The Captain glanced from his frying bacon, to see his company
falling back from the works, and the enemy pouring over. The sudden
sight instantly drove him wild with excitement! He utterly forgot what
he was doing. With a loud yell, he swung that frying pan round and round
his head,--the hot grease flying in all directions,--and rushed to his
men, and tried to rally them. (Having _lost the meat_, he _failed_! With
a frying pan full of meat he could have rallied the regiment!) Back he
fell with the brigade, and disappeared under the hill.
When the rallied Brigade came whooping back upon the enemy, ten minutes
after, who should be in front tearing up the hill, leading the charge,
but the gallant Captain, yelling like everything, and still waving that
frying pan, to cheer on his men. More gallant charge was never led, with
gleaming sword, than was this, led with that Texas frying pan.
At the time we were getting our guns around to fire upon the enemy
inside the works, as the retiring Texans were falling back past us, Dr.
Carter stepped quickly out, and in his courteous manner, called out to
them, "Gentlemen, dear gentlemen, I hope that you are not running." A
passing infantryman, a gaunt, unwashed, ragged chap, replied, "Never you
mind, old fellow! We are just dropping back to get to 'em." "I beg your
pardon," retorted the Doctor, "but if you want to _get to them_, you
ought to _turn round_; they are not the way you are going." They passed
on, and the fight took place. When it was over we noticed that the
Doctor was very much vexed about something. We asked what was the
matter? He said, "Never mind!" We insisted on his saying what disturbed
him so. At last, he said "Well, I don't see why, because men are in the
army, they should not observe the amenities customary among gentlemen."
"Well," we said, "that is all right; but why do you say it?" "Why!" he
warmly said; "did you hear that dirty, ragged infantryman call me an old
fellow? A most disrespectful way to address a gentleman!"
All the row of the fight had not put it out of the Doctor's mind, and he
brooded over it for some time. He never did get used to the lack of
"amenities" and he always had an humble opinion of that unknown Texan,
who did not observe the form of address customary among gentlemen. The
Doctor himself always followed his own rule; he was as courteous in
manner, and civil in speech, as "observant of the amenities" in the
thick of a fight, as in his own parlor.
This was the first battle the Doctor was in, having lately joined us. As
we ceased firing, one of us exclaimed, as we were apt to do, when a
fight was over, "Well! that was a hot place." The Doctor turned on him
and eagerly said, "Did I understand you to say that was a hot place?" "I
did, indeed, and it was." The Doctor turned to another, and another,
with the same eager question, "Did _you_ think that was a hot place?"
"Yes," we all agreed, "it was about as hot a one as we ever saw, or
cared to see." "Well," said the Doctor, in a very relieved tone, "I am
very glad to hear you gentlemen, who have had experience, say so. I
hesitated a long time about coming into the army, because I did not want
to disgrace my family, and I was afraid I should run, at the first fire;
but, if you call _that_ a hot place I think I can stand it." The
Doctor's distrust of himself was very funny to us; for he was so utterly
fearless, and reckless of danger, that some of the men thought, and
said, that he tried to get himself shot. And once, the Captain
threatened to put him under arrest, and send him to the rear, if he did
not stop wantonly exposing his life. He had very little cause to
distrust his courage, or fear that he would "disgrace his family" in
_this_, or _any other way_.
When the fight was over, we promptly went among the Federal wounded, who
lay thickly strewn on the inside of our lines, to see what we could do
for their comfort and relief. Curious how one could, one minute, shoot a
man down, and the next minute go and minister to him like a brother; so
it was! The moment an enemy was wounded he ceased to be thought of as an
enemy, and was just a suffering fellow man.
We did what we could for these wounded men, giving water to some;
disposing the bodies of some in a more comfortable position, cheering
them all up with the promise of prompt aid from the surgeons.
Among many others, we came to one man, mortally wounded and dying. His
life was fast ebbing way; he was perfectly aware of his condition. He
earnestly entreated that some one of us would pray for him. The request
was passed on to Robert Stiles, who was still at our guns.
He came at once! Taking the hand of the poor dying fellow tenderly in
his own, Stiles knelt right down by him on that wet, bloody ground, and,
in a fervent prayer commended his soul to God. Then, as a brother might,
stayed by him, saying what he could to comfort the troubled soul, and
fix his thoughts upon the Saviour of men, and have him ready to meet his
God.
Some of us looked reverently on with hearts full of sympathy in the
scene. It was a sight I wish the men of both armies could have looked
upon. Right on the bloody battlefield, surrounded by the dead and dying,
that Confederate soldier kneeling over that dying Federal soldier
praying for him.
Well! the long weary day of battle was closing and the fighting was
done, at last. This 10th of May was a day filled up with fun, and
fasting, and furious fighting; simple description, but _correct_.
Thirteen to sixteen lines of infantry we had broken, and repulsed,
during that day; and what between infantry and artillery we were under
fire all day from five A. M. to nine o'clock that night; had toiled all
night long, the night before; not a morsel had passed our lips all day,
but one small crustless corn cake, taken out of a wet bag that had lain
for hours, in the rain. A tired lot, we lay down that night on the wet
ground to sleep, and be ready for the morrow. We fell asleep with the
artillery still roaring on the lines, and shells still screaming about
in the dark, and slept a sound dreamless sleep all through the night.
The next day, _the 11th_, was, for the most part, quiet and uneventful!
The bloody and disastrous repulse of every effort of the enemy to force
our line, had, as it well might, discouraged any further attempt along
our front. From time to time we could hear the Federal artillery, on our
front or other parts of the line, feeling our position, with an
occasional reply from our guns.
The sharp-shooters of both sides were keeping up their own peculiar fun.
At every point of vantage, on a hill, or behind a stump, or up a leafy
tree, one of these marksmen was concealed, and would try his globe-sight
rifle on any convenient mark, in the way of a man, which offered on the
opposite line. Any fellow who exposed himself soon heard a bullet
whistle past his ear, too close for comfort. Several of us had narrow
escapes, but the only casualty we suffered was Cornelius Coyle. Coyle
was from North Carolina and it seems that the jokes we were wont to
indulge in at the expense of the "Tar Heels" had gotten him sore on the
subject. In order to show us that a "Tar Heel" was as careless of danger
as anybody else, he exposed himself, very unnecessarily, by standing on
the works and on the guns, while the rest of us were "roosting low," and
about two o'clock he got a bullet in the thigh, which disabled him, I
believe, for the rest of the war. It was bad judgment! The jokes on the
"Tar Heels" were only meant in fun. Nobody ever doubted the courage and
gallantry of the North Carolinians. They had proved it too often, and
were proving it every day! It did not need for Coyle to expose himself
to prove it to us, and by his mistake we lost a good soldier.
The coming of night found all quiet on the lines. In the late afternoon,
and early night, we could plainly hear the sound of,--what we took to
be,--wagon trains and artillery, over in the enemy's lines, passing off
to our right. We got therefrom the impression that the Federals were
leaving our front and that by morning they would all be gone. So we were
not surprised when a courier came with the orders from headquarters that
we should get our guns out of the works, limber up, and be ready to move
at daylight.
=Having "A Cannon Handy"=
We drew our gun from its place at the works, up the little incline we
had made for its more easy running forward, hitched its trail to the
pintle-hook of the limber, chocked the wheels, and left it there until
we should move. The men picked out the least wet spots they could find,
and lay down to sleep. Everybody was very tired, nearly worn out with
the incessant work, and marching, and watching, and fighting, of the
last seven or eight days and nights. This was the first really quiet
night we had known for a week! The quiet and the assurance that the
enemy was gone from our front, and that there was no need to bother
about them, lulled the men into deep slumber. The infantry was all
stretched out along the lines sleeping, and even the pickets out in
front were, I am sure, sound asleep.
Every soul of our cannoneers was asleep, except Sergt. Dan. McCarthy,
Beau Barnes, Jack Booker, and myself. We sat together, by the gun,
talking and smoking until midnight. Then Jack said he would go to bed,
and did. We three, McCarthy, Barnes and I, continued our conversation
for some time longer, for no special reason, except perhaps, that we
were too tired to move, and we sat there, in the dark, listening to the
rumbling of heavy wheels over in the Federal lines, and talking about
the events of the last few days, speculating about what was to come.
Then our thoughts ran on other days, and scenes, and the folks at home,
and we talked about these until we became quite sentimental.
Several times it was suggested that we had better go to sleep, but we
talked ourselves wide awake. About two o'clock it was again suggested,
but Dan said he did wish we had something to eat first. This was a most
agreeable thought, and in discussing the same it was discovered that I
had a corncake, Dan had some coffee, and Beau some sugar. So we
resolved, before lying down, to go back under the hill, some fifty yards
behind the works, where a fire was kept burning or smoldering all the
time, and have a little supper of bread and coffee, which we proceeded
to do. We made up the fire, got water from the branch, warmed our
corncake, boiled the coffee, got out our tin cups, and sat around the
fire having a fine time. It was now about time for daybreak, though
still very dark. Dan proposed that we stroll up to the guns, and lie
down awhile. We walked slowly up! When we got to the guns all was still,
and quiet, as when we left, and I really believe we three were the only
men awake on that part of the line.
Before lying down Dan and I stepped to where our gun had been, and stood
a moment looking out through the dim light, which had hardly begun, of a
dark cloudy morning.
We had no object in this outlook, it was the instinct of a soldier to
look around him before going to sleep. It was, I think, the Providence
of God to an important result. For most fortunate indeed was it that we
took that glance out toward the front.
As our eye rested upon the edge of the wood out to our right front, we
caught a vague glimpse of movement among the trees. We called Barnes,
and stood together, watching keenly. Presently the air lightened a
little, and we could discern the dim figures of men moving about, just
within the woods. "Who are those men?" Dan asked. "Did either of you see
any of the troops pass out of the lines during the night?" "No, we had
not." "Then," he said, "I don't like this. Who can they be?" Just then
the cloud seemed to lift a little, more light shot into the landscape,
and, to our dismay, we clearly saw a line of men. Yes! no doubt now!
That was a battle line of Federals, formed there in the edge of the
woods, and just beginning to advance,--as silently as so many ghosts.
There they were, two hundred yards off marching swiftly for our line,
and everybody fast asleep in that line!
The horror of the situation flashed on us. The enemy would be
bayonetting our sleeping, helpless comrades, and the line be taken in
two minutes! What could we do to save them? Wake them up? No time to get
a dozen men roused up before the fatal peril would be upon us. Suddenly!
the same thought seemed to flash into our minds. Fire the gun! that will
wake up the line instantly. Come boys! There was a case-shot in the gun.
I remembered I had not fired it out, and I had my friction primer box
on, and a primer hooked to the lanyard. We jerked the trail loose from
the limber, and let the gun run to its place! Before it stopped, I
think, I had the primer in, while Dan pulled the trail round to get the
aim. He sprung aside as I let drive.
The crash of that Napoleon, and the scream of the shell there, in the
deep stillness of day-dawn, sounded as if it might be heard all over
Virginia! The effect was instant! You ought to have seen the boys, lying
all about, "tumble up." They flirted up from the ground like snap bugs!
"Gabriel's trumpet" couldn't have jerked them to their feet quicker.
Ned Barnes had lain down right where the gun had been, at the work. When
we ran it back to its place, in our excitement, we did not notice him.
Fortunately the wheels went on either side of him. He was lying flat on
his back, and right under the gun, when it fired. Ned went on like a
chicken with its head off. There was a scuffle, a yell, the whack of a
bumped head under the gun. Ned came tumbling out, all in a heap,
perfectly dazed, and wanting to know, in indignant tones, "What in the
thunder we were doing that way _for_?"
Before the sound of our gun had died away the whole line was up,
shooting like mad, and both guns were going hard. A few minutes of this
sent that sneaking line back to the woods, with a good deal more noise,
and faster, than it came. We learnt, afterwards, that the idea was to
surprise us, if possible. If so, to take, and sweep our line. If not,
_not_ to press the attack. The "surprise" was all they could have
wished. Not a picket fired on them. They were in one hundred and fifty
yards of our sleeping men, and could have simply walked over them, and
captured the whole line at that point. And, _if they had_--fixed as our
Army was, a half hour later--it would, I am sure, have meant disaster.
The only thing that averted it was, _humanly_ speaking, the _accident_
that three young "Howitzers" sat up talking all night, and, happened to
look over at that wood at the break of day,--and _had a cannon handy_!
I think the Texans "owed us another one" for this, and the Army of
Northern Virginia "owed us one" too. Major-General Field _said so_ in
his report of this incident.
The very same thing which _would have happened here was happening_ five
minutes later up the line to our right, where the Federal troops came
right over our works, and caught our exhausted soldiers asleep in their
blankets--the start of the bloody business of the Bloody Angle.
Yes! the bloody work which was to go on all day long, this dreadful 12th
of May, was already beginning, up there in the woods.
The little firing on our part of the line was scarcely over, before we
heard the sound of musketry come rolling down the line from the right.
Soon the big guns joined in, and we knew that a furious fight was going
on, off there. In a few moments we got the news, called from man to man
down along the lines, "The Yankees have taken the Salient on Ewell's
front, and captured Ed. Johnson's Division, and twenty guns. Pass it
down the lines!"
So it was! In overwhelming masses the Federals had poured out of the
woods, over the Salient Angle, where the men were asleep, and from which
the cannon had been withdrawn. And General Lee was trying to drive them
out, and retake our works.
This was the great business of the 12th of May. A very cyclone of battle
raged round that Salient. The Federals trying to hold it, our men trying
to retake it. We heard that the two Parrott guns of our "Right Section"
had gone over there to help, and they were in the thick of that awful
row. We heard it all going on, artillery and musketry, rolling and
crashing away, all day long.
Our part of the line was comparatively quiet, after the fight of the
early morning. Several times infantry was seen moving about, down in the
woods, in our front, and we would send a few shells into the woods just
to let them know that we were watchful, and ready. Harry Sublett was
wounded by a stray ball on this day. But no real attack was made, only
the sound of the sharp-shooter's rifle, and the sound of their bullets
enlivened the time.
This went on for several days. The idea of breaking our line, here, had
been given up as a hopeless job, and no other attempt was made on it.
Assaults were made on other points, and we could hear fighting, here and
there, but we were left alone.
At last, we got orders to move, about the 18th or 19th. Our pickets had
advanced through the woods, and reported that the enemy had left our
front.
While waiting for the horses to be brought up to take off the guns, an
infantryman told me that a cow had been killed, between the lines, and
was lying down there in the woods, in front.
We had had an awful time about food, for the last week, and were hungry
as wolves. This news about the cow was news indeed. I told several of
the boys, and off we started to get some of that cow! We found it lying
just in the edge of the woods. It was a hideous place to go for a
beefsteak! All around, the ground was covered with dead Federal
soldiers, many in an advanced stage of decay. The woods had been on
fire, and many of these bodies were burned; some with the clothing, and
nearly all the flesh consumed! The carcass of that cow was _touching
five dead bodies_,--which will give an idea of how thick the dead were
lying. Many of their wounded had perished in the flames, which had swept
over the ground.
=Grant's Neglect of Federal Wounded=
We had witnessed all these horrors, with our own eyes, days before, from
our lines, and had been helpless to do anything for them. Hundreds of
wounded Federal soldiers lay between the lines, day after day, and
perished for want of help. Several of us, unable to bear the sight of
their suffering, went out one day to carry them food and water, and the
Federals fired upon us, and wounded one of our men, then we had to leave
them alone. They could not or would not care for their wounded, and
would not let us do it. It _was stated_ among us that General Lee had
sent an offer to General Grant to permit him to send, and care for his
wounded, near our lines; and he refused. And then General Lee offered,
if Grant would suspend hostilities for some hours, that _we_ would care
for his wounded rather than see them suffer, and die, before our eyes;
Grant refused that proposal too!
Certain it is, these poor fellows were left to their fate and perished,
miserably, by wounds and famine, and fire. Their many dead, in our
front, lay unburied until the odor from them was so dreadful that we
could hardly stay in our works. It may be that General Grant had this in
mind, and was determined that, if his _live_ soldiers couldn't drive us
out of the works, his _dead_ ones should. Well! he had his way of making
war! And on account of his inhumanity to his wounded, his _own men_
thought as _ours did_, that his way was very brutal! I heard his own men
curse him bitterly. They called him "The Butcher" in those days. The
feeling of his army to him was widely different from our feeling for our
General.
All those dead soldiers along a line of five miles lay rotting on the
ground, until we had gone away, and the people of the country
neighborhood had to collect them from the fields, and thickets, and bury
them, for fear of pestilence. And when one remembers that from Thursday,
the 5th of May, to Thursday, the 12th of May, General Grant had lost
40,000 in killed and wounded, the dread sight of death and suffering we
looked upon, can be imagined! The thronging lines of unburied dead,--it
was a shocking and appalling spectacle!
But we could not just then, mind the sights we saw! We got our beef, all
the same! We were the first to get to that cow, and we had to take our
knives and cut through the skin, on the rump, and flay it up, and then
cut out hunks of the flesh, as best we could, and get back to the guns.
As I got back, carrying my big piece of meat, in my hands, Col. H. C.
Cabell, commanding our Battalion, met me. He said, "My dear boy, where
on earth did you get that meat?" I told him. "Well," he said, "I am
almost starved; _could_ you give me a little piece?" I cut off a chunk
as big as my fist, stuck it on a sharp stick, held it a few minutes in a
fire, close by, and handed it up to the Colonel, sitting on his horse.
He took it off the stick, and ate it ravenously. He said it was the best
morsel he ever tasted! It was scant times when a Colonel of artillery
was as famished as he was! I cut up the rest of the beef, and divided
among several of us, and we cooked it on a stick, the only cooking
utensil we had at hand, and ate it, with a keenness of enjoyment that
terrapin, canvass back duck, and Lynnhaven oysters could not provoke me
to now. _My dear!_ but that hot meat was good, to palates accustomed,
mostly, to _nothing_, and _no salt on that_, for about a week. The only
meat we had now,--when we had any at all.--was fat mess pork, and we ate
that _raw_. Hot beef was a delicious change!
Meanwhile the hours had worn on. We limbered up the guns, and moved
several miles off, toward the right, passing through Spottsylvania Court
House. It was here we went by to see Cary Eggleston for the last time.
He died next day.
We halted in a broom-sedge field, some distance beyond the Court House,
and parked our guns, along with some other artillery, already there. And
here we stayed a day or two.
The only thing I particularly recall of the stay here, was a trivial
circumstance. One of the batteries we found in this field, belonged to
the "Reserve Artillery" of which the "_un_reserved artillery" had a very
humble opinion indeed,--just at that time.
These fellows had not fired a shot, through all the late fighting, and
their guns were as bright, and clean as possible; which ours were not.
One day a blue bird started to build her nest in the muzzle of one of
their guns. Some of the sentimental fellows took this as an augury. "A
sweet gentle little bird building her nest in the muzzle of a cannon!
What _could_ that mean but, that peace was about to be made, and these
cannon useless?"
The rest of us scouted this fancy, and took it as a rare good joke on
that "Reserve Artillery." We said "their guns were not of any use anyhow
_except_ for birds' nests; the birds knew they would be perfectly safe
to build their nest, and live in _those_ guns. _They_ would not be
disturbed!" We "chaffed" the officers and men of that battery most
unmercifully. The whole field was on the _grin_, about that birds' nest.
The poor fellows were blazing mad, and much mortified; so _disgusted_
that they took their nice, clean guns, and went off to a distant part of
the field, to get rid of us. We were _sorry_ to lose them! They afforded
_us_ a great deal of fun, if they didn't have any themselves. That blue
bird story got all over our part of the Army, and those "Reserve
Artillerists" were "sorry that they were living."