CHANCELLORSVILLE.
April eighth, the Twenty-seventh participated in the grand review
of the Army of the Potomac by President Lincoln, preparatory to
opening the spring campaign. Fifty or sixty thousand men were in
line, and probably the army was never in better condition than at
that time.
One week later, orders were received to supply the men with eight
days’ rations, five to be carried in their knapsacks, and three
in their haversacks. Overcoats, dress coats, and everything which
could possibly be dispensed with, were to be turned in to the
Quartermaster. Each day company inspections were held, to see that
the men were prepared as the orders directed. About this time the
regiment was transferred to the Fourth Brigade, under the command
of Colonel J. R. Brooke, of the Fifty-third Pennsylvania. A storm
of two days’ duration postponed the forward movement a short
time, but by the twenty-seventh of the month the weather became
tolerably settled, and now began a campaign which it was fondly
hoped would result in the capture of Richmond. In the morning we
sent out an additional picket of over three hundred men, leaving
hardly a corporal’s guard in camp. All day artillery and cavalry,
pack-mules and wagon-trains, were passing camp, on their way to the
right. Late in the evening, orders came to strike tents, pack up as
quietly as possible, and report on the division parade at daybreak.
Our pickets returned at two o’clock the next morning. The camp was
now full of bustling preparation. The huts all illuminated; the
eager hum of voices; men hurrying to and fro; the decided tones of
command, combined to form a scene of excitement nowhere found but
in the army. At daybreak the regiment fell in, and bade farewell
to the dismantled camp, to enter upon an experience none of us had
ever contemplated as likely to fall to our lot.
Camp near Falmouth will linger vividly in memory, when other more
startling scenes of army life have faded into oblivion. Our four
months’ residence witnessed a complete change in the face of the
country. A few stumps, or a solitary tree, were all that was left
of the forests which, four months before, waved over a hundred
square miles of territory. Here and there a house, tenantless,
fenceless, and dingy, or a blackened ruin, with only a bare chimney
standing, loomed above the naked landscape, a picture of complete
desolation.
The division having assembled near General Hancock’s headquarters,
began the march for United States Ford, at seven in the morning.
We passed many deserted encampments, whose late occupants, like
ourselves, were on the move. Instead of following the direct
course of the river up to the Ford, which was only ten miles above
Falmouth, we pursued a very circuitous route, and, after an easy
march, halted in a strip of woods, where we encamped for the night.
The next day, at evening, we had just pitched our tents and built
fires, and were in the act of making coffee, and frying a bit of
pork or beef, when the order came for the Twenty-seventh to fall in
with all possible dispatch. Suppers were thrust into haversacks,
without much regard to order, and in a few moments the regiment
marched off about a mile, to picket in the woods. This duty
occupied us until the next afternoon, when we were relieved, and
hastened on to overtake the rest of the brigade, which had already
broken camp. During the night previous a light fall of rain took
place, just enough, however, to put the roads in bad condition. All
along the route, pioneers were thrown out in advance, to corduroy
the worst places for the passage of the trains. As far as the eye
could reach, a continuous line of army wagons filled the road,
urging their way forward with the greatest difficulty. The woods on
either hand rang with the sharp crack of the teamsters’ whips, and
simultaneously a chorus of wild shouts burst from the driver and
the men pushing at the wheels, while high above the din rose shrill
cries, resembling the notes of the screech-owl. Then, with a quick,
jerking jump, the nimble mules landed the team in the next rut, to
await the reception of the same magical sounds.
Advancing to within a short distance of the Ford, the corps halted
to await the completion of the preparations for crossing. The sun
now burst forth from the canopy of clouds as if in glad sympathy
with the exhilaration which pervaded all hearts in consequence of
the encouraging news from the front. A dispatch from General Hooker
announced that the success of the Fifth, Eleventh, and Twelfth
Corps was all that could be desired, and that the rebels were
retiring. These corps broke camp early on Monday morning, April
twenty-seventh, and took the route to Kelly’s Ford, twenty-five
miles above Fredericksburg. The pontoons were laid and a crossing
effected on the following day, with very little opposition, and the
troops pushed forward rapidly to Germania Ford, on the Rapidan,
for the purpose of concentrating at Chancellorsville. General
Stoneman, with his cavalry, crossed on Wednesday, to enter upon
the grand raid which the _Richmond Examiner_ characterized as
the “most audacious enterprise of the war.” The diversion from
Germania caused the rebels to evacuate their works in front of
the United States Ford, so that no molestation was offered when
the pontoons were laid for the passage of the Second Corps. Late
in the afternoon of April thirtieth, we moved rapidly down the
abrupt, woody bank, and once more, set foot on the south side of
the Rappahannock. A line of well-constructed rifle-pits, with
more elaborate works for cannon, at intervals of several hundred
yards, commanded the crossing. In their hasty retreat the rebels
left behind two pieces of artillery spiked. Only a few miles now
separated us from the scene of operations, and after marching
through woods, and over muddy roads, rendered infinitely worse
by the constant passage of troops, we bivouacked for the night a
short distance from the Chancellor House, a large brick mansion,
so called from its occupant, V. Chancellor. This residence was
situated about five miles from United States Ford, and about ten
miles southwest of Fredericksburg, at the junction of the plank
road to Gordonsville and the Orange County turnpike. A shapeless
mass of ruins is all that now remains of what gave name to one of
the most remarkable battles of the war.
Save an occasional discharge of cannon, the forenoon of May first
was spent in comparative quiet, neither party seeming disposed to
inaugurate the conflict. Movements, however, were in progress with
a view to ascertain the enemy’s position. In the afternoon the
Twenty-seventh participated in a reconnoissance for this purpose,
which came very near proving an affair of no little importance.
Leaving our bivouack in the woods, we advanced down the road by the
Chancellor House, and ascending a gentle elevation, turned aside
into an open lot on the left, near a small dwelling, afterward
occupied by General Lee as his headquarters. Here a section of
artillery was exchanging compliments in a lively manner with a
rebel battery, a short distance up the road. Several companies
were immediately deployed as skirmishers, with the remainder as
a support, and advanced through the woods to feel the enemy’s
position, and develop his strength. Suddenly the artillery limbered
up, the skirmishers were called in, and the reconnoitering force
retired to the rear at double-quick. This movement was rendered
necessary by an advance of the enemy, seriously threatening
our right flank; but they were foiled in the attempt, and fell
back before a stubborn fire of musketry and artillery. For a
few moments we remained in line of battle in the open ground
near the Chancellor House, then, moving down the road a short
distance, deployed through the thick and tangled woods on the left.
Appearances indicated that the rebels were about to charge down
from the ridge from which we had just retired, but they contented
themselves with shelling us furiously with their batteries. Long
before the cannonade ceased, the mellow twilight of a May evening
had passed into the darkness of night, adding to the fearful
sublimity of the scene, as the rebel guns woke the sleeping forest
echoes, and shells careered wildly through the air, and crashed
among the trees. Quietly resting on the ground, we wait for the
iron storm to pass. No sooner has the last shell swept over our
heads and burst into numberless fragments, than we enter upon the
night’s work, of intrenching our position against the anticipated
attack of the morrow. The rebels were apparently engaged in similar
work just across the ravine. It was a busy and exciting scene along
the lines of the army that night. The rapid strokes of axemen,
followed by the dull sound of falling trees, rang through the woods
in every direction. Details of men were at hand to put the logs in
position, while others dug a trench in the rear, and heaped the
soil upon them. For some distance in front of the breastworks,
trees were cut down for the purpose of obstructing the enemy’s
advance. After the completion of our intrenchments, we rested under
arms, and at daybreak, May second, as silently as possible, marched
out into the road, and past the Chancellor House, and took a new
position in Hooker’s line of battle. The rebels soon entered the
place we had just left, which, however, was of very little value to
them, and could easily be reöccupied when circumstances required.
We spent the forenoon in building breastworks, while on the other
parts of the line there was much skirmishing, and several sharp
fights. At intervals during the day the enemy opened upon us with
shot and shell, discovering our position by the smoke curling above
the trees from the camp fires. At noon, when rations were being
dealt out to the companies, the rebel gunners, doubtless tantalized
by the display, seemed determined to involve commissaries and
rations in one common ruin.
Several days had now passed in the usual preliminaries to a battle.
Hooker had succeeded in drawing the main force of the rebels
from their works in the rear of Fredericksburg, and was himself
well intrenched in the dense woods skirting the plank road, and
most appropriately called the Wilderness. The line of battle of
the Union forces formed a broad wedge, whose base rested on the
Rappahannock, the apex terminating at the extreme front beyond the
Chancellor House. The Eleventh Corps held the extreme right, and
next in order were the Third, Twelfth, and Second, while the Fifth
occupied the left.
Lee is said to have issued orders to his troops to break this line,
at all hazards. A brief calm followed the desultory movements of
the day. The men stood in their places behind the breastworks,
gazing into the woods in front, eagerly listening to hear the first
sound which should tell where the rebel blow would strike. At four
o’clock in the afternoon, the enemy advanced in heavy force down
the plank road, and began the attack in the neighborhood of the
intrenchments we had thrown up the night before. The rapid fire
of musketry on our right indicated a serious attempt to pierce
the centre of the Union line. Under cover of this movement, the
indomitable Jackson advanced his hordes through the woods, and
hurled their solid array on Hooker’s right wing, directly in rear
of our present position. Let the Eleventh Corps stand firm, and
victory will rest on our banners ere the close of day. The current
history of the hour tells us how the crisis was met. But more
expressive than history itself was the wild shout of triumph that
burst from one end of the rebel line to the other, as it swept
over the earthworks, and saw the panic-stricken corps dashing
madly to the rear. Who can describe the almost breathless interest
with which we listened to the fluctuations of the conflict? Now
the avalanche of the enemy is stayed a moment in its course; then
nearer and nearer approaches the sound of battle, and it seems
as if the next instant the foe will dash in upon our rear. A
portion of the Second Corps hurries away to the scene of strife,
and General Hancock, every nerve strung to the highest pitch
of excitement, rides up to inform the Colonel that probably we
should not be called into action, but were to hold our position,
and that in case of necessity we could fight on either side of
our breastworks, plainly pointing to the possibility that the
enemy may attack in the rear. Through the woods behind us we can
see batteries of artillery rushing into position near Hooker’s
headquarters, and in a few moments the forest trembles with the
terrific cannonade, vying with the thunders of heaven in the
compass of its sound. In the distance the deep, prolonged boom of a
hundred-pounder swells the bass notes of the chorus. Double-shotted
with grape and canister, the field-pieces sweep the rebel line with
murderous effect. At length darkness put an end to this sublime
exhibition of human power. The frightened whippoorwills ceased
their plaintive cries; the quiet moon rose over the bloody field,
and Nature sank into a silence fairly oppressive. We remained under
arms most of the night, frequently changing our position as the
emergency required.
At eleven o’clock occurred one of those episodes of warfare which,
in startling grandeur and terrible magnificence, well-nigh border
on the supernatural. The forces of Hooker and Lee were resting
on their arms, renewing their energies with an hour of broken
slumber, and ready to rush to battle at the first flash of dawn.
The air was perfectly still and serene, transmitting the rays of
the moon with unusual brilliancy. Scarcely a sound disturbed the
painful silence of the almost interminable woods. All at once the
artillery, massed on the ridge hardly half a mile behind us, with
one tremendous crash poured in its fire upon the enemy’s position,
covering the charge of a division of infantry. The thunder of
musketry and artillery reverberated through the forest with an
effect inconceivably grand.
At the earliest moment on Sabbath morning, May third, the battle
was renewed, but apparently with less vigor than on the preceding
day, and yet, as brigade after brigade became engaged, and the
almost unexampled roar of musketry rolled along the line, it
was evident that the enemy were about to follow up, with even
greater desperation, the advantage already gained. Immediately
after breakfast, the Twenty-seventh, with the exception of two
companies--D and F, engaged in other duty--was ordered down into
the intrenchments we had thrown up, near the apex of the wedge,
the Friday night previous. These works now formed a part of the
picket-line of the army, and from the nature of the position and
its relation to the movements of the enemy, a large force was
required in order to hold it. As is usual in such cases, when
a picket in force is ordered, the colors did not accompany the
column. As the regiment advanced, at double-quick, down the hill
into the ravine, it was met by a heavy fire of musketry. A number
were wounded, and several shot through the head, just as they
entered the breastworks. One or two regiments whose ammunition
was exhausted, were gradually drawn off in small squads. Not
succeeding in their first attempt, the rebels made no further
attack in force upon our part of the line, but, concealed in the
thick woods, continually annoyed us with a scattering fire. The men
replied as they had opportunity, and with considerable effect, as
the rebels themselves afterward acknowledged. Colonel Bostwick was
particularly noticeable for the almost reckless exposure of himself
to the enemy’s fire, while attending to his duties at different
points in the line. Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin reminded him several
times of the great danger he incurred, as he stood on a slightly
rising ground to the rear of the rifle-pits, a conspicuous object
for some rebel bullet.
While the conflict was culminating in other parts of the field,
the enemy in our immediate front were not so idle as appearances
indicated. Looking through the woods, we could indistinctly see
a large body of infantry making a wide circuit to the right,
seemingly with a view to attack some remote part of the line. A
similar movement took place also to the left. “Look out on the
right!” “Look out on the left!” passed up and down the line, and
every man was on the alert, ready to meet them should they attempt
to carry our intrenchments.
Suddenly, from unseen batteries behind us, comes a deep roar,
and the next moment shell after shell shrieks through the trees
and bursts almost in the rifle-pits. The thought flashes upon
us that the rebels are in our rear, but is dismissed with the
reflection that it is only a Union battery firing too low, and
will soon correct its false range. Meanwhile our little band had
been reduced to less than four hundred men, embracing two hundred
and seventy of the Twenty-seventh, with small portions of the
One Hundred and Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second Delaware; and
this force being entirely inadequate to hold the extended line,
Colonel Bostwick dispatched Major Coburn to General Hancock for
reënforcements. In a few moments the shelling ceased, and far up
the road in front appeared a rebel officer waving a flag of truce,
and slowly advancing, waiting for a recognition. The men stopped
firing in the immediate vicinity of the road, while for a moment
the musketry became more brisk on the left flank. At length the
rebel officer arrived within a few paces of the works, where he was
halted, to await the presence of Colonel Morris, of the Sixty-sixth
New-York, commanding the whole line. This officer was not to be
found, and the responsibility of receiving the communication
from the flag of truce devolved upon Colonel Bostwick, of the
Twenty-seventh. The rebel--a tall, rough specimen, and yet with
the manner of a gentleman--announced himself as Lieutenant Bailey,
of a Georgia regiment; that he had been sent to inform us that we
were entirely surrounded; that there was no possible avenue of
escape, and therefore he summoned us to surrender, and thus avoid
the loss of life which would inevitably follow any resistance to
the overwhelming force in front and rear. The Colonel replied that
he did not “see” it, and proceeded to investigate the actual state
of affairs. Meanwhile Lieutenant-Colonel Merwin went up through the
woods in the rear only to find it too true that the rebels were
posted in strong force, to bar any escape in that direction. Masses
of the enemy pouring in on the right and left, revealed at once
the desperate position in which we were placed, while the singing
bullets from the woods behind as well as in front, indicated that
the foe were closing in upon us. The first impulse among officers
and men was to attempt to force our way through. But it was evident
that such a course would result in the destruction of more than
half our number, while the remainder would inevitably fall into
the hands of the enemy. After a hurried consultation among the
officers, a surrender was agreed upon, and the formality had hardly
been completed, when a heavy line of rebel skirmishers swept out
of the woods behind. Only five minutes before, the men stood at
their posts undisturbed by even a doubt of their security; now,
astonished at the sudden _denouement_, we found ourselves about to
enter upon the terrible uncertainties of rebel captivity. And this
surprise and mortification was increased by the conviction that
serious disaster must have overtaken the Union army. The history of
the day establishes the fact, that Saturday’s misfortune, and the
subsequent operations of Sunday morning, compelled the formation of
a new line of battle. The surging conflict had gradually crowded
Hooker back, and late in the afternoon the army retired, by his
order, to a position some distance in rear of the Chancellor House.
As General Hancock afterward stated, orders were sent down to the
Twenty-seventh to fall back at the same time, but they failed to
reach us; and while the rest of the army had retreated to the new
line, the Twenty-seventh still remained at the extreme front of the
old, entirely unconscious of this change of position. Our situation
in a ravine, surrounded by dense woods, rendered it impossible
to observe the movements going on in other parts of the extended
field. The enemy, already aware of Hooker’s withdrawal, immediately
planted a battery behind us, supported, as one of the rebels
afterward said, by two brigades of infantry.
The experience of Major Coburn immediately after the shelling,
while _en route_ to deliver the Colonel’s request to General
Hancock, more than confirms this statement. On his way to the rear
he was accompanied by one of our sergeants, severely wounded in
the early part of the action. They had passed hardly half a mile
through the woods when they were taken prisoners, and the Major was
conducted into the road, where he found a large part of Stonewall
Jackson’s corps, under command of Major-General Anderson. Already
they had formed their skirmish line and were crowding forward with
all possible speed, certain of their prey. Outnumbered on every
hand, and with batteries in front and rear, it would have been
madness to have attempted to force our way through in the face of
such odds. The gallant Brooke, with characteristic bravery, when
he heard the firing, volunteered to charge down with his brigade
to our relief, but General Hancock refused permission, for fear of
bringing on a general engagement while the army was changing its
position.