THE SIEGE OF PETERSBURG, JUNE, 1864, TO MARCH, 1865
Siege of Petersburg--Lines closely drawn--Attacks on Lee's
right--Mahone's defense--Mining for an explosion--North side
threatened--Troops sent--Capture of Battery Harrison--Lee's attempt
to retake it--The repulse--General Lee and General Pemberton--Attack
on Fort Gilmer--Negroes in the van--General Lee's activity--His
headquarters--Enemy's fire on Petersburg--Meeting with Twelfth
Virginia Infantry--Lee attacks in front of Richmond--Beats Kautz
and takes his cannon--Kautz retreats to a fort--Lee attacks and is
repulsed--Union troops armed with Spencer rifles--General Lee's quick
eye for horses--Ewell's fall from his horse--Kershaw's Division sent
to Valley--Destruction of barns and houses--Kershaw returns--Capture
of a remount--The crater--Intercourse between pickets--Continuous
firing--General E. P. Alexander's love of shooting.
The siege of Petersburg had now begun. It is certain that Lee had had
a narrow escape in getting there in time. Grant had nearly beaten him
and indeed should have taken the place, notwithstanding Beauregard's
boldness. The Union generals had been explaining with some heated
recriminations how they failed to be in possession before Lee came
up. The latter on the north side had been for hours under intense
anxious uncertainty in discovering Grant's move, whether a crossing or
continued march on the north side.
The lines were closely drawn and severe fighting ensued. Digging
began in earnest on both sides. Salients, traverses, bastions, forts,
trenches, covered ways, parallel, zig-zags, and all the other devices
for the taking and defense of fortified cities were resorted to. Our
left rested on the Appomattox River and was so close to the enemy's
line that a biscuit could be thrown across, and conversation went on
constantly between the fighters, who the next minute were firing at any
head or arm that might be incautiously exposed. Our works stretched
from the left around the town to the Weldon Road on the right, and this
was an object of Lee's constant solicitude. It was our direct railroad
to the South, and Grant in possession would have our communications
cut and supplies broken off. For months it was the Federal General's
incessant effort to accomplish it. His great numbers made it possible,
but Lee always managed, notwithstanding, to have a defense.
At Reams Station Major-General Mahone performed great service in
beating back the force sent to seize the road at that point. Later in
the siege, mining began by the enemy. The result was the appalling
hour of the crater explosion by which very many Confederates perished,
and then in the great combat that followed for recapturing the ground,
hundreds of Federals fell. Mahone was conspicuous in restoring the
broken lines.
But the story of the siege of Petersburg--eight months--is not to be
told in a few pages. It was a struggle from day to day, night to night,
and filled with picturesque scenes of individual daring and valor,
sorties and strategems. There was often quiet massing of columns for
heavy assaults on points supposed to be relatively weak. We sustained
many of these but the lines were maintained. Lee also made some hard
drives at his opponent with varying success. All, however, pointed
to only one thing--the wasting of our unrecruited strength and the
apparently limitless numbers available for the Union Army.
While such operations were carried on south of the James, General
Grant was not idle on the north side. A strong force was held there
threatening Richmond, and our commander had to provide for it out of
his thin ranks and keep some show of strength in front of our capital,
immensely aided, however, by the excellent lines of field works that
environed the city. These conditions brought about considerable
shifting of our two divisions. Field and Kershaw were between the
Petersburg lines and the north side, and Pickett's division was
defending what was known as the Chesterfield lines between Petersburg
and Richmond, but was not threatened.
A strong force of the enemy had massed north of the James and captured
a powerful earthwork known as Battery Harrison on our extreme right.
General Lee had come on the scene with one of the First Corps divisions
and other troops. He decided to retake the fort, attaching great
importance to its possession. An assaulting column of three good
brigades was organized, Bratton's South Carolina regiments among them.
Captain Sorrel, then adjutant-general, shook hands with me as they
started forward, almost a "forlorn hope," and I thought never to see
him alive again. But he came out safe among many killed and wounded,
the assault being repulsed with great loss. A new line was entrenched
and fortified, thrown back to right and rear.
General Lee, when he liked, could sit down pretty hard on words not
agreeable to him. An example was given that night. With his staff and
several general officers he was at the Chaffin farm-house on the
James, reviewing the serious events of the day. General Pemberton,
after the fall of Vicksburg, being without assignment, had assumed
his rank of lieutenant-colonel in the Regular Army, and as such was
on engineer duty on the Richmond line of defense. He was present
and, speaking of Battery Harrison, said with something like superior
confidence, "I presume, General, you will retake the fort, coûte que
coûte." Lee's sad, steady eyes rested on that unfortunate officer as
he slowly said: "General Pemberton, I made my effort this morning and
failed, losing many killed and wounded. I have ordered another line
provided for that point and shall have no more blood shed at the fort
unless you can show me a practical plan of capture; perhaps you can. I
shall be glad to have it." There was no answer from Pemberton.
General Lee had had an anxious day; all of it was occupied in meeting
the enemy's attacks. There was an especially severe one on Fort Gilmer
by Ben Butler's command, with negro regiments pushed in front of the
assailing whites. Fortunately we had a staunch regiment in the fort,
which beat back the attacking column.
A hundred or two of the negroes, half crazed with whiskey, got into the
ditch of the fort and refused surrender.
Our men lighted some shells, rolled them over the parapet and quickly
brought the darkies to subjection. It was an ugly affair all through.
And so the siege passed. One day strong detachments must be made to
meet powerful movements against our extreme right flank, and requires
the leaders' presence. Truly never was a leader called on for greater
performance. General Lee's health was now fortunately stronger and his
activity most wonderful.
He was in comfortable quarters at the Turnbull House, offered for his
use by the owner. Our own were not far distant, and quite comfortable
in tents and small houses. The routine life of the town passed from day
to day without excitement. The people had become accustomed to shell
and bullets and made no ado when they whizzed about their heads.
I do not think the enemy's fire was directed especially at the
non-combatant part of the town, but much of it got there all the same.
A new accession to our staff was Captain Dunn, of Petersburg, an
excellent gentleman, with us now for several months. A shell burst on
him while bathing in his house, and smashed things all around, but the
A. D. C. and his family escaped. A bullet had found his leg before this
good luck.
The citizens were very hospitable and very self-sacrificing. Too much
could not be done for the soldiers. But this was the feeling and the
practise all over Virginia.
As we entered Petersburg I came up with the regiments of Mahone's
brigade, the Twelfth among them. They had not forgotten the Wilderness,
gave me a rousing cheer, and cried that we must again together charge
these fellows in front of Petersburg. Their brave survivors keep me in
mind still, after these many years.
General Lee, always aggressive, was quick to find opportunity of
attack. He saw his enemy rather exposed at a point in front of
Richmond, quickly got some troops in position, and made a dash at
them in great style. It was a strong force of infantry and cavalry
under General Kautz, and he left eight or nine guns, many prisoners,
and some colors in our hands, retiring to a strong fort and defenses
about a mile in his rear. Our General decided to have it and follow
up his first success. Gregg's Texas Brigade and two others--seasoned
troops--were thrown at Kautz's fort. We could not live against its
fire--no troops could. His men were armed with the Spencer magazine
rifles and such a fire had never before jarred and stunned us. We had
to retire and resume our positions. Losses were considerable, among
them Brig.-Gen. John Gregg, commanding the Texas Brigade--a very able
officer.
General Lee was fond of horses and had always an eye to them. When the
first attack was made my brother, Captain Sorrel, was mounted on a nice
young mare I had just given him. At the first onset she was shot, and
horse and rider were both in the mud. It happened almost under General
Lee's eyes.
Some days after, the General meeting Sorrel on the road kindly asked if
he were hurt, and was sorry for the loss of the mare. "But I have got
another, General," said the Captain. "Yes, two it seems," the General
answered as he rode off, smiling. Sorrel's bewilderment was removed
when later on it became plain that the new purchase was in foal.
When Ewell, one leg gone, was forced to relinquish field work and
take leave of his corps, the old Warrior insisted on other duty, and
was assigned to command of the inner line of defenses about Richmond.
General Lee, with Ewell, Anderson, and a number of other officers,
and some of our staff, was examining a new line of defense with that
trained engineer's eye of his, Ewell riding by him. The latter was so
good a horseman that his one leg was equal to most riders' two, but
his horse stumbling, down came both--an awful cropper. I made sure
the General's head and neck were cracked. He was picked up, no bones
broken, but an "object" about the head; scratched, bruised, torn and
bloody. Lee instantly ordered him back to Richmond and to stay there
until completely well.
In two or three hours he was again on the lines, and such a sight!
Painfully comical it was. He had gone to the hospital, where the bald
head and face were dressed. He returned swathed in bandages from crown
of head to shoulders. Two little apertures for his piercing eyes
and two small breathing spaces were all that was left open for the
Lieutenant-General. Quite indifferent, however, to such mishaps, he was
sharp about his work and lisping out directions as usual.
General Lee thought to weaken the pressure on him at Petersburg and
Richmond by transferring some of it to the open field of the Valley,
where skilful maneuvering might offset inferior numbers. He had the
temerity to detach part of his army for the purpose, and with some
other commands sent General Anderson with Kershaw's division across
the mountains. Most of the staff went with the expedition and had
opportunity of witnessing Sheridan's work in destroying all the
resources of that fighting-ground.
As we marched forward, the enemy slowly retiring, smoke was seen
ahead on a wide range from the burning barns and granaries of the
non-combatant people. Sheridan was arranging for his "crow" to carry
his own rations should he venture into the Valley.
General Lee's ingenious and bold attempt did not result as he hoped.
Grant could not be tempted that way. His business was at Petersburg
and Richmond, and besides there were already enough of his troops in
the Valley and covering Washington to answer for the safety of that
capital. Our expedition was therefore soon terminated and came back to
the James. The division had but two encounters in the Valley. One at
Charlestown, a small affair, in which General Humphreys, commanding the
Mississippi Brigade, was wounded. Another was at Front Royal, in which
Wofford's brigade got caught in a bend of the river and was beaten off
with loss in killed, wounded, and prisoners. A dear friend, Colonel
Edward Stiles, Sixteenth Georgia Regiment, was killed.
I had chance, however, before marching, after a sharp night's ride, to
pay a flying visit at their home to the good ladies Hamtrammock, who
had cared for me wounded at Sharpsburg. They were as pleasant as ever
and the hour seemed all too short. While in the Federal lines they had
supplied themselves with all sorts of little things for soldiers in the
field, as tokens of remembrance, and I had pressed on me a pair of fine
gauntlets, which seemed about everything that I wanted at the moment.
On our way back to Lee the division (Kershaw's) suddenly came up with
a Union regiment of cavalry foraging at the foot of the mountains. It
was a surprise to the riders, and they at once took to their heels,
pressing up on the side of the mountains for escape. We had nothing
but food with us, and most of the mounted regiment got safely away in
small parties. Two fully-equipped ambulances, however, could not follow
the riders, and were overturned in a mountain gulley. One of them
furnished me with an excellent mount. Two soldiers were going through
its beautiful equipment, and coming among the medicines to a large
vessel labeled "Spiritus frumenti" it was tossed aside with the rest
of the pharmacopoeia. But some one suggested that "Spiritus frumenti"
might be another way of spelling whiskey--and then to see those fellows
go for it!
While the commander and most of the troops of the First Corps were on
the north side, the enemy's mines at Petersburg were "spring making."
"The Crater" was a frightful affair, and should, it appears to me, have
been prevented. We knew they were mining. Our shaft had been sunk and
short galleries run out. Their working parties could be heard. Should
we not have countermined actively and fought their men off in their own
galleries? However, it was not done, and the "blow up," considered only
barely possible, was upon us. When it came it was all that the enemy
could wish. His plans were excellent, but miscarried by the conduct of
one or more of his leading officers. The crater was at once filled with
their men, many negroes among them--negroes who, as usual, primed with
whiskey, had been pushed to the front and into the breach, but support
failed them.
Then came the Confederates' great work of destroying these men and
recovering their mutilated line. Mahone did brilliant service. His
division of five brigades was thrown at the invaders, and with other
forces seized the "hole," captured or killed the unfortunates in it,
and the day was ours with the works and integrity of the line restored.
I had heard much of this remarkable fight from the Georgia Brigade (it
had been very conspicuous in it) that I took command of some days after.
This amusing story was told me by one of its men. Exhausted in the
crater fight, he sank wearily on a log for a short rest. It moved
gently and an old-fashioned negro's voice came from the log-like darky,
"Please, Marster, don't shoot; I'se doin' nuttin'." The rascal had
doubtless been one of the first in the crater, wild with liquor; but
the Southerner was merciful and sent him to the rear.
Of course the men on both sides behind the works, so close sometimes,
got tired of "potting" at each other, and taking a rest became
altogether too friendly. Firing would cease and individuals and small
parties appear in front bartering and chaffing with the boys in blue.
Our tobacco was always good for coffee and a Northern paper. It got to
be too familiar and led to desertions of our men. Their rations were
of the poorest (one-half pound of bacon and three-quarters of a pound
of cornmeal), their clothing and shoes worn and unfit for the field,
and their work and duties of the hardest on our attenuated lines.
Reliefs were few and far between. No wonder they sometimes weakened to
better themselves, as they supposed, and stayed with the fat-jowled,
well-clad, coddled-up masses opposite them. But we had to stop the
desertions at any price, so at night steady, continuous musketry firing
was ordered, sweeping the glacis in front of our entrenchments. It
cost a lot of lead and powder, but did something in holding back the
weaklings in our command.
The enemy, nothing loth, returned the fire, and were good enough to
send plenty of their own lead. There was considerable to be gathered
during the day, and this got my friend, Gen. E. P. Alexander, into
trouble. He was a many-sided character--an engineer of the highest
abilities, an artillerist of great distinction, a good reconnoitering
officer and an enthusiastic sportsman besides. In the early days
of the war I one day met him, mounted as usual on a very sorry,
doubtful-looking beast, with a pair of enormous holsters on his
saddle-horn. "And what have you there, Alexander?" I asked, thinking
possibly of some good edibles. "These," he said, and drew out his long
telescope for reconnaissance--a very powerful glass--and from the
other an enormous old-fashioned horse-pistol of immense calibre, some
tiny cubes of lead, cut from bullets, and a pinch or two of gunpowder.
"Quail," he said, "are eating up this country and I like them. This
old pistol gives me many a mess of birds." At Petersburg his only
want for his private gunning was lead to melt into small shot, and
gathering some (after working his big gun) he received an unexpected
contribution--a bullet in his shoulder, hot from the enemy, which made
him a very uncomfortable wound.