COLD HARBOR.
Ah me! I see it all again,
The frenzied battle’s formless form,
The reeling field, alive with men,
The thunderous flashes through the storm!
The rifle’s crack, the hiss, the thud;
The sizz of the on-hurtling shell;
The dying cry; the trickling blood--
The sights, the sounds we knew too well.
_Rev. Minot J Savage._
On the 3rd of June, before daylight, we were called up to do our part
in the battle of Cold Harbor. The troops that had relieved us at the
front the day before had been driven from their works, and our division
was called upon to re-take them.
It was the same along the whole line. We were to charge across an open
field, under a terrible fire from the enemy, strongly entrenched
behind earthworks. Between our line of works and that of the enemy, the
ground was covered with pine trees, felled and fastened across each
other, and in addition, they had posted a battery in a position that
could sweep the entire unsheltered field. We heard afterwards that Lee
had been two weeks getting ready for us.
It was about half past four on that bright June morning, that we
started on that memorable charge. Never shall I forget the storm of
bullets, grape and canister that was rained upon us. My comrades fell
on my right and left till I thought there would be none left to tell
the tale. Half way across, my shoe became untied, and I knew that I
would lose it unless I tied it up again, so down on one knee I went,
and tied my shoe.
My comrades saw me drop, and I heard a shout, “Mosby’s hit!” I was up
in an instant, and on with the rest. On we went until we reached the
works, from which we drove the enemy, but they only fell back to their
own line of works, about two hundred yards away. We remained in the
recaptured works, and kept up a constant exchange of fire all day long;
on neither side could a man show his head without being shot at, but
we hindered them as much as we could from using their battery upon us.
I remember one poor fellow of my company, who had somehow gone to a
part of our line where the enemy had a raking fire right among us. I
noticed him lying there as though asleep, but I well knew that no one
living could sleep in that place, and concluded that he must be dead. I
offered to help his brother bring him in, but he demurred, fearing that
he might share the same fate. We did not know what moment we might have
to leave, and did not want to leave a dead comrade unburied.
At last four of us started after the body, and succeeded, under a
terrific shower of bullets that drove us back more than once, in
getting him onto a blanket, and each one holding a corner, we made
quick time into the rifle pits. We rolled the poor fellow in the
blanket, and buried him in one of the rifle pits; many a poor fellow
was buried in that way.
There was a peach orchard between the lines, and when the battle ended
at dark, there was not much left of it but the trunks of the trees.
All day I kept pegging away. When my gun got too foul from constant
firing, I poured in a little water, washed it out, snapped a cap or
two, and I was ready for action again. I was not sorry however, when
nightfall put an end to the conflict, and I could drop down and rest.
Another charge was ordered before night, all along the line, but the
order was countermanded, thus saving many precious lives. The loss of
our army that day was over thirteen thousand men, our regimental loss
being ten killed, and twenty-one wounded.
The next morning at daybreak I heard the orderly call my name, and
reported to him immediately, and received the order with others,
“On the skirmish line!”
While I stood waiting a few moments for the skirmishers to get
together, I noticed a Johnny Reb walking over to our line; I thought he
wanted to come in, so I shouted to him to come on in; he stopped and
looked at me a moment as though surprised, then turned on his heel, and
walked back from whence he came, taking no notice of my invitation to
come in, and threat to shoot him if he didn’t. I would not have shot
the brave fellow anyway, and I watched him walk deliberately back until
he reached the works, when he leaped over them and ran for the woods
like a deer. We concluded that he was a straggler who had been asleep
somewhere, and did not know of the changed conditions, and thought
his side still held the advanced line; at any rate, he found out the
difference before it was too late.
Only a few moments elapsed before we were ready for the start, and
away we went, expecting every minute the rebels would rise above their
works, and put an end to us all. But all was quiet in front, so we kept
on until we stood upon their works, and found that during the night the
enemy had left for parts unknown. Upon a cracker box cover they had
left the loving message,
“Come on, you damned Yanks to Richmond, but you will find it a rough
road to travel, with a Hill, and two Longstreets to go over before
you get there!”
You can imagine how surprised we were to find the works abandoned that
our leaders had thought it impossible to capture by assault, and how
thankful we were that we had not made the charge that the enemy had
evidently expected, and so had prudently withdrawn, under cover of
darkness. They had succeeded in removing their battery that had so
raked us all day, but the heap of dead horses, a dozen or more, that
lay near the position they had occupied, showed that they had made
several attempts before they accomplished their purpose.
[Illustration]