MINE RUN.
We wait for the bugle, the night winds are cold,
The limbs of the soldiers feel jaded and old.
The field of our bivouac is windy and bare,
There is lead in our joints, there is frost in our hair,
The future is veiled, and its fortune unknown,
As we lie with hushed breath till the bugle is blown.
_Thomas B. Higginson._
We crossed the river near Berlin, keeping east of the Blue Ridge. At
Manassas Gap on July 23rd, we saw some pretty fighting by the Third
Corps, and on the 8th of August, we went into camp at Beverly Ford,
and remained five weeks, enjoying our well earned rest. Here I saw
five deserters shot. Sept. 15th we moved to Culpepper, where I saw a
bounty jumper drummed out of camp, branded with the letter D. Here
we received 180 recruits, and between October 10th and 29th, we were
marching back and forth, to one point and then another, as though our
generals thought we needed exercise.
November 29th, 1863 found us in line of battle at Mine Run. For three
days and nights we faced the enemy, and awaited the signal to open
the battle. I shall never forget one night, the coldest I ever saw in
Virginia. Mine Run was a little stream of water made formidable by the
rebels, whose works were back of it. The stream was filled with thorny
bushes and brush, now frozen in; when across that, there was a strong
abattis made of sharpened timber, that must be removed before we could
charge the enemy, strongly entrenched behind earthworks. Not much
charging could be done in that situation, and we old soldiers knew the
hopelessness of such an attempt.
We knew that the order had been given to charge on the enemy’s works at
daybreak. We felt rather gloomy, for we knew that death was certain, if
we made that desperate attempt. For my part, I had faced many dangers,
had been under fire many times, but had never felt, as I did then, that
death stared me in the face. The horrors of that bitter cold night
can never be told. All night long we had to keep in motion to avoid
freezing to death, for no fire could we have, lest we be discovered by
the enemy; more than one poor fellow was frozen to death in the rifle
pits.
Morning came at last, but we heard no order to charge. All honor to
General Meade, who has been censured for his failure to charge across
Mine Run. With all his bravery, he was too humane to order such a
useless sacrifice of life, though he knew he incurred censure and
probably disgrace, in ordering a retreat instead. Silently we retreated
out of our dangerous situation, and made our way towards Stephensburg.
Hungry and cold as we were, we hurried along, halting now and then just
long enough to build a little fire and boil some coffee, the soldier’s
best friend.
Towards night it grew warmer, and when the order came to halt for the
night on an open plain, we were too tired to do anything but drop in
our tracks, rolled up in our rubber blankets. When we awoke in the
morning, we found that several inches of snow had fallen during the
night, and covered that vast body of sleeping men as with a white and
fleecy blanket. We soon had fires and a warm breakfast. By ten o’clock
the snow had melted, and we took up our march with renewed courage.
Our army crossed to the north side of the Rappahannock river, and two
days after found us encamped at Liberty, near Bealton Station, on the
Orange and Alexandria railroad, and here we had a brief respite from
our toils and dangers.
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