The Retreat.
Battle of Sailor's Creek.
Captured.
Early in the morning of Sunday, April 2, we marched from our camp near
South Side railway into the main road leading west to Amelia Court
House. Reaching this road, we found portions of Heth's and Wilcox's
divisions moving along the same, by whom we were informed that our
lines around Petersburg had been broken and they cut off from the rest
of the army.
We pushed on that day, learning en route that General A. P. Hill had
been killed before Petersburg. We went into camp near Deep Creek,
hungry and conscious of loss, both in the breaking of the lines at
Petersburg and in the death of sturdy, gallant A. P. Hill--and still
there was no murmuring.
During the forenoon on Monday the enemy's cavalry came up with our rear
guard, when some brisk skirmishing occurred. We passed Deep Creek near
2 P.M., the enemy pressing closely. Late in the evening we received a
scanty supply of rations, the first since March 29--four days. Beyond
Deep Creek a short distance we went into camp; moving next morning on
the road to Amelia Court House, but the enemy had been there ahead of
us, had made an attack upon a wagon train, and were driven off by the
teamsters and stragglers, leaving their dead and some of their wounded
on the streets. Here we heard of the evacuation of Richmond. This,
though looked for, brought deep gloom over not a few of the men, who
for more than three years had not faltered in hope of ultimate success.
From the time Amelia Court House was left at noon on the 4th until
Thursday, the 6th, at the close of the battle of Sailor's Creek, there
was scarcely an hour, day or night, that we were not engaged in
skirmishing with the enemy. They were on the flank, and everywhere,
after our beleaguered troops. We were forced to halt and form line of
battle, once or more a square, to prevent capture. The march was
necessarily slow on account of the wagon and artillery trains, which
moved at a snail's pace through the mud, drawn by famished animals,
which had had but little food for days. While soldiers may live for a
time on enthusiasm, mules and horses must have corn or oats. As for
ourselves, we were without food, save a little parched corn, when we
could stop long enough to parch it; otherwise we took it raw, shelling
it from the cob and eating it as we marched. The small ration issued to
us at Deep Creek had only been sufficient for one square meal. Many of
the men were overcome with fatigue, hunger and want of sleep, some
actually going to sleep walking along, stumbling and falling in the
road. No food was to be had in the country along the road upon which we
were marching, as the people had been stripped of everything in the way
of food by those who had preceded us. It was unsafe to venture far from
the command on account of the enemy's cavalry now on all the roads, and
many of our men were made prisoners by going away from the line of
march in search of food. We halted for rest but once during the night
of Wednesday, the 5th, then only for a few minutes, in line of battle,
for the enemy was close upon us.
It was the general expression that if all of our marchings, sufferings,
hardships, privations and sacrifices for all of the preceding years of
the war were summed up, shaken together and pressed down, they would
not equal those we were now undergoing on this tramp.
At daylight on Thursday, April 6, a point was reached near Sailor's
Creek, a small tributary of the Appomattox, a short distance from High
Bridge, and probably ten miles from Farmville. The marching of our
depleted and exhausted forces for the past two days had been conducted
during the day by throwing out skirmishers on both flanks, and calling
them in at dark, our rear now being cared for by the troops of General
Ewell. The skirmishers in front and on the flank became actively
engaged at sunrise, the balls from the enemy's sharpshooters whistling
over and among the men of the regiment. Here I saw for the first and
last time General Henry A. Wise, a tall, slender, gray-haired man,
straight as an arrow, apparently vigorous for a man of his years. We
were now to fight our last engagement--the battle of Sailor's Creek.
The skirmishing now grew more animated, we expecting every moment to be
attacked, but the enemy was merely attracting our attention and trying
to hold us where we were until his infantry columns could come up. In
the afternoon, probably 2:30 or a little later, a heavy force of the
enemy's cavalry made a charge on a battalion of Confederate artillery
in advance of us on the same road. To check this cavalry charge, we
were hurried across Sailor's Creek, reaching the guns of Colonel
Huger's battalion in time to see most of the artillerists, including
Colonel Huger, taken away as prisoners. The enemy not being able to
take these guns away, as we were now at their heels, they hurriedly
chopped with an axe the spokes out of the wheels, disabling them for
present use, then retreated, we following in line of battle and going
forward through an open field, meeting no resistance, and halting on a
piece of high ground. A squadron of Federal cavalry, spying General
Pickett with his staff riding up in our rear, made a dash for him;
about the same time he discovered the object of these bold riders, and
galloped quickly to the lines of the brigade to our left, which was in
a body of scattering timber. These reckless troopers pushed up after
the General until close to our men, who fired upon them, emptying every
saddle. This incident is given to show the reader how desperate was
this prolonged game of death.
On the brow of the hill where our brigade halted on the road on which
we had been marching, there was intersection with another road leading
directly west. Here we hurriedly tore away an old worm fence, piling up
the rails to make some protection against rifle balls. On the left rear
of Pickett's and part of Bushrod Johnson's divisions on Sailor's Creek
were Custis Lee's and Kershaw's 3000 men under General Ewell, with whom
we had no connection, nor with Mahone's division and other troops ahead
of us, leaving gaps through which the Federal cavalry passed, enabling
them to get on our flanks and rear. The enemy's troops in this
engagement--one army corps with three cavalry divisions--numbered
25,000 or more men, while the Confederates did not have 7500 all told.
The fighting was desperate. Along our front and fully five hundred
yards away we could see passing to our right heavy bodies of the enemy,
evidently bent upon getting ahead of us. Moreover, this must have been
manifest to our commanding officers, who permitted us to remain idle
for several hours and until the enemy made full preparations to attack
us. That somebody blundered, there is no doubt, as any enlisted man in
the ranks could clearly see. We should have moved on. The attack came
between 3 and 4 o'clock P.M. by an assault on Munford's dismounted
cavalry in a skirt of woods to our right. This attack, as were others
on our right front, was repulsed.
General Terry, our brigade commander, had given the order to move to
the right, when he discovered another advance upon us, this time in
heavy force. We were ordered to remain where we were and not to fire
until the enemy were close enough to see the whites of their eyes, then
fire and charge with the bayonet. We were behind the rails, close to
the ground. The enemy, armed with repeating rifles, when within
seventy-five yards or so opened upon us, filling the air with balls,
and coming at us. Every man who raised his head above the rails gave
his life for the venture. Captain Harris, the Adjutant General of the
brigade, raised his head to look and fell back dead; a sandy haired man
of my regiment at my elbow met the same fate. He was from Orange County
and never knew what hit him. Then came a lull in the firing in front,
and I heard a noise behind us; looking around, I saw a column of
Federal cavalry close behind us, one of whom had boldly dashed up
behind our regiment, seized the colors, and with drawn saber compelled
Torbett, the color bearer, to surrender the same. Such was the
character and bravery of the men we had to fight. Some one just then
cried, "Fire!" and a portion of our regiment delivered its fire into
the faces of the enemy in front. In a moment began an indiscriminate
fight with clubbed muskets, flagstaffs, pistols and sabers. In a few
moments all was over. We had met the enemy and we were theirs. This
final struggle was most tragic. We were now marched out and surrounded
by a cordon of cavalry.
Ewell's, Kershaw's and Custis Lee's battle on the left was still
raging, but to terminate, as had ours, in their capture, together with
the greater part of their commands, which had made a brave and gallant
fight, but like ourselves were the victims of gross blunders on the
part of someone in authority on the field, as well as overwhelmed by
superior numbers. This battle ended my activities in the army. There
remains only to describe my experience as a prisoner of war, which I
will do later on.
The Federal losses in this battle were 166 killed, 1014 wounded. The
Confederate losses, 268 killed, 2032 wounded, together with some 6000
prisoners claimed by the enemy. A portion of the division escaped with
General Pickett and reached Appomattox.
I am unable to give the number of the killed, wounded and captured of
our division, brigade or regiment. I do not, however, believe the 7th
Virginia in this battle numbered two hundred, the brigade five hundred,
the division not exceeding two thousand. Company D had two officers and
sixteen men in this battle, having no loss in killed or wounded.
Suffice it to say that with our small number we could not have been
driven from our position by parallel battle line.
Four years before this company left Pearisburg, Virginia, with 102 men,
the majority of whom were as promising and gallant young men as
Virginia produced. During the time of service twenty recruits were
added, making 122 in all, and now here we were with eighteen left. The
reader is left to ask where were the 104. Let the crippled and mangled
survivors who had been discharged, the graves of the noble dead
scattered all over Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, make answer.
Can anyone wonder that we eighteen were drawn together that day by a
bond of suffering and blighted hope, closer than ever before?
Here are the names of the men of Company D present in this last tragic
struggle, to-wit: Captain R. H. Bane, Lieutenant Thomas S. Taylor; the
men, Fry, Yager, Shannon, Bolton, Darr, Eaton, Gordon, Henderson, J. J.
Hurt, C. Minnich, G. A. Minnich, Suthern, Stafford, Wiley, Meadows and
the writer.
Strange were the scenes among the captives at Sailor's Creek: some
cried, some prayed, others were angry; some cursed, abusing the one who
blundered, leading us into the trap to be captured, while a few were
cheerful, saying all is not yet lost, but it was apparent to the writer
that we had fired our last gun. The flag we had followed to victory on
so many fields was now furled forever, and strong men wept!
The sun was fast sinking; the men lay down upon the ground and were
soon asleep, many not waking until the sun was high in the heavens the
next day. Gloom was depicted on every countenance, and sorrow was in
every face. These men had seen their comrades go down day by day, by
which they were impressed that if the war continued it was only a
question of time when they too would bite the dust. They, however, had
this consolation regarding their fallen comrades: that they had gone
down in the conscientious belief in the justness of their cause, in the
hope of victory, and had not lived to see their flag furled in defeat,
and were saved the humiliation of tasting the bitter cup of submission,
of which we were to drink to its very dregs. Maybe these after all were
the lucky men--who knows? The gallantry and devotion of our soldiers in
the unequal struggle proved how thorough were their convictions of the
righteousness of their cause. Their devotion to that cause and their
kindness and humanity to those whom the fate of war placed in their
power, proved them worthy sons of noble ancestry. These men viewed the
attempt at coercion on the part of the Northern people as aggression,
and their action in defense of their country, homes and firesides, as
an inherent, inalienable right--a defense of constitutional liberty.
Immediately upon our capture, the Federal soldiers stripped many of
our men of all their good hats, boots and small trinkets. Colonel
Flowerree, who had a splendid new hat and boots, was deprived of both,
and in lieu thereof was given a worn out, dingy old cap and rough
shoes. I think they took these things as souvenirs--war trophies--they
did not need them, for they were well supplied.
We were without food and had been practically so since the preceding
Monday. Our captors themselves were poorly supplied, but our humane,
brave and generous foes divided their scanty supply with us. All of the
men captured in the battle of the day before, about six thousand, the
Federals then claimed, were congregated with us in the field in which
we were placed.