Assaults on the walls of Vicksburg--Logan in battle--An army mule--A
promotion under the guns of Vicksburg--A storm of iron hail at
Vicksburg--The Vicksburg clock--The town surrenders--The glad
news--Reading my first order to the regiment--My regiment put on
guard in the captured city--Eight days' furlough in four years of
war.
The next morning (the 18th) my regiment crossed the pontoon bridge over
the Big Black and marched eight miles further toward Vicksburg. Now we
knew we were getting close to the Richmond of the West. As we crossed
the Black River we gazed with curiosity at the half-burned bridge from
which so many unfortunates had been hurled into the water by our
artillery the day before. After Lawler's charge thousands had tried to
get over the stream by the trestle-work and bridge, or by swimming.
General Osterhaus, seeing the fugitives from a high point where he
stood, cried out to his batteries: "Now, men, is the time to give them
hell." Twenty cannon instantly hurled their iron missiles at the bridge,
and the flying soldiers fell to the ground or into the foaming river,
almost by hundreds. "Lost at Black River," was the only message that
ever reached the home of many a Southern soldier of that day.
On the 19th, at two o'clock, a terrible assault was made by the army on
the walls of Vicksburg. My own regiment, still in McPherson's corps, lay
close to the Jackson wagon road and under a tremendous thundering of the
enemy's artillery. We suffered little, however. Once I was ordered to
help some men build sheds of brush for the wounded. This was in a ravine
behind us. In an hour the work was done, and as I crept up the slope to
get forward to my regiment again I heard the loud voice of some officer
on horseback. It was General John A. Logan. The enemy's artillery was
sweeping the field at this point, but I could still hear Logan's voice
above the battle, cheering a number of soldiers that were near. "We have
taken this fort and we have taken that," he cried in tones that were
simply stentorian. "We are giving them hell everywhere." He was in full
uniform, his long black hair swept his shoulders, his eyes flashed fire,
he seemed the incarnation of the reckless, fearless soldier. He must
have thought cannonballs would not hurt him. For five minutes, perhaps,
I stood in a little dip in the ground, comparatively protected, while
he rode up and down under a storm of cannonballs, calling at the top of
his warrior's voice. I expected every moment to see him drop from his
horse, but nothing happened, and I went on to the line where all our men
were closely hugging the ground. Soon I, too, was stretched on the
ground, making myself as thin as I could.
On the 20th we advanced still closer to the frowning works. It was only
a thousand yards to the forts of Vicksburg. We moved up in the darkness
that night. I think no one knew how close we were being taken to the
enemy. We lay down in line of battle and in the night our line was moved
a little. When daylight came my regiment was no little astonished to
find that we were on an open place in full view of the enemy. A comrade
and I rose from the ground and commenced our toilet, by pouring water
into each other's hands from our canteens. Almost at that moment the
Rebels had caught sight of our men lying there in long lines so close to
them, and instantly commenced throwing shells at us. My friend and I
left our morning toilet uncompleted and, seizing our rifles, we all
stood in line waiting. We could see the flags of the enemy above the
forts distinctly. With a glass the gunners could be seen at their guns,
hurling shot and shell at us. We were in a perilous and helpless
position. We were also very tired and hungry, for we had had nothing
whatever to eat. But here we stayed, and by the next morning our
skirmishers had advanced so close to the Vicksburg forts that the Rebel
gunners could reach us but little. Our gunboats too, down in the river
now commenced hurling mighty bombs and balls into the city.
On the morning of the 22d of May all the batteries of the army and the
big guns of the river fleet bombarded the city for an hour, and under
the fog and the smoke of the battle the infantry advanced to assault the
works. It was a perilous undertaking. The day was fearfully hot; the
forts, ten feet high, were many and powerful; the ditches in front of
them were seven feet deep. That made seventeen feet to climb in the face
of musketry. In battle line, my regiment ran down into the ravines in
front and then up the opposite slope to the smoking breastwork.
The colonel had ordered me to fasten two ammunition boxes across a mule
and follow the regiment into the assault. I was to lead my mule. A
soldier with a bush was to beat him from behind, so as to hurry him over
an exposed bit of ground at our front. The moment my mule appeared in
full sight of the enemy the bullets commenced whizzing past us. The
mule, true to his ancestral instinct, commenced pulling backward.
Yelling and pounding and pulling helped none at all. Two or three
bullets struck the boxes on his back, and before we had pulled him half
across he braced himself, held his ears back, and stood stock still.
That moment the bridle came off. My assistant dodged back to our rifle
pit and I hurried down to the ravine in front. The mule, too, as luck
would have it, also ran now,--ran down into the ravine beside me, right
where he was wanted. I tied him to a little bush and, awful as the
situation about me was, I almost laughed to see the antics of that
animal's ears as the bullets whizzed past him.
My regiment was all lying against the hill close up to the fort. In
front of them was the ditch seven feet deep, beyond them an armed fort
ten feet high, emitting a constant blaze of cannon and musketry. The sun
was broiling hot. I crept along the line of the regiment and gave
ammunition to every company; then I crept back a little to where my mule
was still alive and his ears still at their antics. Lying there in the
line beside the boys, roasting in the sun and suffering from the
musketry in front, was our brave Colonel Boomer, leading the brigade. He
asked me once what I was doing, and, when I told him, he gave me some
compliments in a kind, but sad, low tone. Now I saw a company of men
creep by me, dragging little ladders in their hands. They were to make a
rush and throw these ladders across the ditch of the forts for the
assaulters to cross on. They were all volunteers for a work that seemed
sure death. I looked in each hero's face as he passed me, knowing almost
that he would be dead in a few minutes. Scarcely a dozen of them
returned alive. My regiment, with the rest of the assaulters, was simply
being shot to pieces without a hope of getting into the forts. We fell
back under the smoke of the battle as best we could, only to be led into
an assault at another point. McClernand had sent Grant word that he had
taken a fort on our left. He wanted help to hold it.
Our division, now led by Quimby, was double quicked to the next place of
assault. I saved my mule. Again I strapped two ammunition boxes over his
back and followed the regiment. This time I did not risk my mule so
close in the battle, but took all the cartridges I could carry in my
arms and went to the left of the regiment. Once I saw a body lying on
the grass by me, with a handkerchief over the face. I went up and
looked. It was our own Colonel Boomer, who had spoken so kindly to me in
the morning. A useless charge had already been made by the brigade and
he, with many brave men, was dead. Some of my own company lay dead there
too. One of them had come from Iowa and joined his brother in the
company that very morning. All the assaulting of the 22d of May and all
the sacrifice of life had been for nothing. Vicksburg was not taken.
Now commenced the regular siege of the city. We hid ourselves behind
ridges, in hollows, and in holes in the ground, as best we could.
Communication with our gunboats on the Yazoo was opened, and we had
plenty to eat and ammunition enough to bombard a dozen cities. Then the
bombardment commenced indeed, and lasted to the end, forty-four days. We
often threw three hundred cannonballs and shells a day into the city.
The whole Rebel army was also hidden in holes and hollows. All the
people of Vicksburg lived in caves at the sides of the hills or along
the bluffs of the river. Their homes now were like swallows' nests, with
small entrances in the face of hills and bluffs and big, dug-out
chambers inside. It was a strange life. With the eternal hail of cannon
over them day and night, and starvation a familiar figure to them, it
must have been a horrible one.
Now we advanced our rifle pits and trenches and mines close up to the
Rebel forts, though our main lines lay in the ravines and on the ridge
a few hundred feet farther back. As for me, when not looking after the
ammunition, a trifling duty now, I was in the trenches with the others.
One morning when out there at the front among our riflemen, who were
forever blazing day and night at every Rebel fort and rifle pit, I
noticed our good Colonel Matthies creeping along the trench to where I
was. He had a package of brown paper in his hand. Imagine my surprise
and pride to have him come to me and say: "Sergeant, this officer's sash
is yours." Then he announced my appointment as adjutant of the regiment.
He had been made a general now, and would soon leave for his new
command. This sash was one that he had worn and honored on many a
battlefield. Is it any wonder that now, after the long and perilous
years, it is preserved by me as a souvenir of honor? Soon after, I went
to a sutler's store on the Yazoo River to buy a sword and uniform. In
those days swords were not given to officers by committees in dress
coats, until they had been earned. This little trip to get my sword
almost cost me my life. My path to the river, six miles away, lay partly
along a ridge and partly close to an empty Rebel fort. This fort showed
scarcely any signs of having ever been used. I stayed all night with
the sutler, whom I knew very well, and at noon on a hot day started, on
my big yellow government horse, to go back to my regiment. My sword was
buckled on me and my new uniform was tied in a bundle on my saddle-bow.
It was too hot to ride fast, and my horse almost slept as he slowly
carried me close by the seemingly abandoned fort. Suddenly there was a
crash and a whole volley of musketry rattled about my ears. My poor
horse fell dead. It was a quick awakening, but I managed to pull my
bundle from the saddle-bow and to escape into a ravine where our own
troops lay. There I learned that the fort had been occupied by the
Rebels in the night, while I was with the sutler. It was a close call
for me. One of the boys declared he could save my saddle and bridle.
"Take them as a present," I said, "if you can get them." He crept up to
where my dead horse lay, and as he rose to his feet to undo the saddle
another volley from the fort hastened him to the ravine. I laughed. "If
your saddle and bridle were made of gold and silver," he shouted at me
as he ran back, "I wouldn't try it again."
Slowly and without perceptible advance the siege went on. The little
battery that my regiment had saved at Iuka was still with us and behind
some breastworks at our immediate right. It was no uncommon thing to
see even Grant himself come along and stop and watch Captain Sears' guns
knock the dirt up from some fort in front of us. One day this battery
wounded a man who was running between two Rebel breastworks. The enemy
tried to secure his body, but every soul that showed himself for an
instant was shot by our riflemen. For half an hour this shooting over
one poor man's body was kept up, until it seemed that a battle was
taking place.
Now our lines were so close together that our pickets often had a cup of
coffee or a chew of tobacco with the Rebel pickets at night. Drummer
Bain, of my company, had a brother among the soldiers inside Vicksburg.
One night he met him at the picket line, and together they walked all
through the beleagured town. But such things were dangerous business and
had to be kept very quiet. The weather was now very warm and fine, some
of the nights clear moonlight, and when the guns had stopped their
roaring many a time in the quiet night we heard the bell clock on the
Vicksburg Court House measuring out the hours. It is said that this
clock never stopped for an instant in all the siege, nor under the
hundred cannon that rained iron hail into the town. At night, too, the
big mortars from our fleet some miles from us tossed mighty bombs into
the air, that sailed like blazing comets and fell at last among the
people hidden in their caves.
One day Governor Kirkwood of Iowa visited our regiment and made a speech
to us in a hollow back of our line. We cheered, and the Rebels, hearing
us and knowing we must be assembled in masses, hurled a hundred
cannonballs and shells over our heads, yet I think few were hurt. This
was the 3d of June. Every night that we lay there on the line we went to
sleep fearing to be waked by an attack from the army of Rebels under
Johnston, now assembled at our rear. This was the force we most feared,
not the army we had penned up in Vicksburg. Nevertheless, the batteries
in front of us gave us enough to do to prevent any ennui on our part. On
the 15th of June the enemy got one big gun in a position to rake from
our left the ravine in which my regiment was lying. We all stuck close
to our little caves on the ridge side, and few got hurt. In the meantime
we were working day and night putting more breastworks in front of us,
though we were now but four hundred yards away from the Rebel lines.
Here, as many times elsewhere, I copy from my diary. "Last night, the
16th, the major of our regiment, Marshall, took two hundred men and
worked all night digging new ditches and building breastworks. It was
rainy and muddy. The Rebels heard us at the work and in the darkness
slipped up and captured a few men. Some of the enemy, however, also got
taken in. This is the kind of work that is going on every night until
daybreak, and then we fire bullets all the day into the enemy's lines,
to prevent their repairing their forts. The cannonading and the rifle
shooting never cease. The roar is simply incessant, and yet when off
duty we sleep like newborn babes.
"All the region we are in is hills and ravines, brush and cane-brake,
with here and there a little cotton field. Nature defends Vicksburg more
than a dozen armies could. She has built scores of positions around the
town strong as anything at Sevastapol."
The rumors kept coming of a purposed attack on our rear. On the 20th of
June, at four o'clock in the morning, all the cannon on Grant's lines
and all the cannon on the gunboats opened fire on the town and thundered
at it for six mortal hours. They must have been awful hours for the
people inside. No such cannonading ever took place on the continent
before or since. We private soldiers did not know the exact object of
this fearful bombardment. The Rebels probably lay in battle line,
expecting an assault, and must have suffered greatly.
In the night of the 22d of June, at midnight, rumors again came of a
great Rebel army marching on our rear. It was a beautiful moonlight
night, and my regiment, together with whole divisions of the army,
received orders to hurry back toward Black River, where cavalry
skirmishing had taken place. No battle came on, but for two days we lay
in line of battle, or else built breastworks for defense.
On the 3d of July, as we were bivouacked in a little wood, news came
that the whole Rebel army in Vicksburg had prepared to surrender the
next day, the Nation's jubilee day. Instantly the regiment was ordered
to fall in. I had no little pride in reading to the men the dispatch
from General Grant announcing the great news. It was the first order I
had ever read to the regiment as its adjutant, and its great importance
gratified me much. The whole command acted as if they were drunken or
had suddenly lost their minds. Privates and officers shook hands and
laughed and wept, while majors and colonels turned somersaults on the
grass. It was indeed a great moment to us all. Twenty-seven thousand
men, with twenty-four generals and one hundred and eighty cannon, was a
great capture. We all knew we had made history on that day.
Now the whole Rebel army passed out along the roads where we lay. I sat
on a rail fence near our bivouac and watched the host go by. The
officers all looked depressed, but the soldiers seemed glad the suspense
and danger were over and that now they could have enough to eat. Our
regiment freely divided with them all we had.
"After a few days pursuit of Johnston's army at our rear (now suddenly
our front), my regiment is ordered into Vicksburg. We pass in over the
breastworks that had been so terrible to us a few days before. Looking
at them, I wonder at our hardihood in assaulting them. It would be hard
to climb through these ditches and into these forts even were no cannon
and no deadly muskets behind them.
"My regiment is put on duty as a city guard. It now seems strange enough
to be guarding the very town and the very forts we had so recently been
assaulting. There are other troops here, but the Fifth Iowa is the guard
proper. We find the town badly battered up, with terrible signs of war
everywhere. There, too, were the graves of the dead and brave defenders.
If wrong, they still had been brave men." Years afterward, a shaft was
put up to their memory, and on it I read these words:
"We care not whence they came,
Dear in their lifeless clay,
Whether unknown, or known to fame,
Their cause and country's still the same,
They died, and they wore the gray."
The weather continued hot while we were there guarding the town, and the
place was very sickly; many citizens and very many colored soldiers
died. It was pitiable to see how little people cared, even our own
soldiers, whether these poor negro soldiers died or lived. Our own
regiment suffered little, yet on July 28 seventy were in the hospital.
We camped at Randolph and Locust streets, and spite of the mercury's
being 100 degrees in the shade, had pleasant soldier times. I mounted
the guard every morning and then spent most of the day reading to the
colonel, who was sick.
In September I secured a leave of absence to go North. For the only time
during the four years' war I visited my home. I was there but eight
days, half of my time having been lost by the steamer I was on sticking
on sandbars.
I saw strange sights in the North in those few days--women and children
and old men reaping the fields; home guards training at every village;
cripples and hospitals everywhere. Yet in spite of war prosperity was
blessing the North.