It seems that our division (Fields'), especially our brigade, was
selected and had ever been the troops to run from place to place. This I
egotistically claim was because we were good on the march, always
getting there quickly, and then, after getting there, we could be always
depended upon to meet the emergency. Hence, we were not in the trenches
so continuously as some others. We, from now on, were mostly below
Richmond, taking care of Richmond from that side, but occasionally we
would run over and take a day or two in the trenches, where we would be
again pulled out for across the James River. So, after about a week in
the trenches on this occasion, we were taken over the river, as Grant
seemed to be preparing to attack from that direction. We remained
quietly, doing nothing but keeping out our pickets for several days. For
these few days we took up regular camp duty, except drilling. At roll
call in the mornings Morrison and Stewart hardly ever answered. This got
to be such a regular thing on all occasions, even when we were called to
move, that our orderly sergeant, A. P. Manville, became so completely
disgusted (for you could see disgust depicted on his face) that it was
determined between Perry Manville, Capt. Wood and Col. Hagood that
Morrison and Stewart should be assigned to me as my company, I to see
after them exclusively, being exempt from all other duty, only go when
they had to go, and _to make them go_. This might seem an easy
assignment, but, take my word for it, it was the hardest job any poor
fellow ever had. I would be up in the mornings before time, getting them
up to be in time for roll call, and any other duties assigned them I
would be notified and had to get them out for it. But Perry Manville,
who was a brave, good fellow, would put them both on duty at the same
time, thereby saving me extra duty. He saw and appreciated the hard task
I had. After lying around here for perhaps a week or more watching and
waiting we were ordered to "fall in." Our company was at this time on
the left of the regiment, and I and my two men were on the extreme left,
which, when marching left in front, put me and mine at the head next to
the colonel. In starting out this time, when Col. Hagood rode up to his
position, he turned to me and said, "Sergt. Mixson, load your gun
immediately and take those two men in this fight or leave them dead on
the wayside." I loaded up, telling these two what to expect from me
(they had heard my orders). We started off. I kept them up pretty well,
and when we formed our line of battle on the hill overlooking Deep
Bottom I had them in ranks. We remained on this hill while our skirmish
line were holding them back in the bottom, our skirmishers retreating
slowly. Gen. Lee was dismounted near us, awaiting the time to order us
to charge. When it looked like the time had about come old Stewart got
back pretty close to Gen. Lee, and, falling on his knees, said, "Let's
all join in prayer," and he started off. He had hardly started good
before the command was given, "Get to your places." Morrison went in
ranks, but old man Stewart got louder. I called to him to get in. He got
_louder_. I could not move him by calling, so I went up to him and,
catching him by the shoulders, I pulled him back and almost had to drag
him to his position. Lee looked on seemingly amused.
Well, we made the charge, meeting the enemy in the bottom. Here we
fought them for some time, but finally retired to our former position on
the hills. I don't think I got either Morrison or Stewart in this, but
they were on hand when we got back on the hill. The enemy did not
advance on us in our position, but fell back. We then went back and took
up our quarters where we left the day before. Grant had failed here.
We remained here, without anything happening, doing picket duty and
putting more logs on our fortifications, for something like three weeks,
when the Yankees took another notion to go into Richmond over this
route. Our cavalry, down at the Darbytown Road, discovered them on the
move. As soon as this was reported to us our long roll routed us, and by
sunrise we were off to look into matters. We ran upon their picket line
about ten o'clock, drove them back and found them stationed behind the
works that we had built there in 1862. We immediately charged these
works, and took them with very little trouble, they giving way after a
short fight. We followed them no further than the works we captured from
them. By night we were back at our camps, not much worse off than when
we went out. We again took up our regular routine of duties and had no
more disturbance from this quarter. Everything remaining quiet over
here, we were, about the last of September or first of October, taken
back to Petersburg and again went into the trenches. We were placed
where the "blow up" afterwards took place, and while we were here our
engineers were counter-sinking shafts, endeavoring to discover where the
enemy's mine struck our fortifications. The marksmen on the Yankee side
had become very expert with both the rifle and mortars, and they were so
accurate that mortar shells would frequently fall in our trenches. For
the information of those who do not know about mortar shooting I will
explain. The mortar gun is a short cannon, say eighteen inches long,
working in a carriage on a pivot and so arranged as to be shot at any
angle, even to straight up. They had perfected themselves so that they
knew the exact elevation to give the gun and the length of the fuse to
explode it, as in many instances the cannon ball would fall in our
trenches, and, exploding, would do much harm, and causing much confusion
among us. Hence, it became necessary to keep a lookout, and when one of
their guns was fired this "lookout" would keep his eye on the ball going
up and coming over, and if it looked as if it were coming into the
trenches at a certain place we would crowd away from the place that it
seemed like hitting, thereby making room for it to fall and burst with
as little damage as we had time and room to make.
On one occasion I was sitting with my back to the front of the trenches,
flat down on the bottom of the trenches, with my oilcloth underneath me.
I had my man Morrison as "lookout," who was kneeling down facing the
front just at my side. I heard the report of a mortar and saw Morrison
prick up his ears. Soon I saw him begin to get excited, and then he
commenced to exclaim, "It's coming, it's coming, it's coming!" Knowing
how scary he naturally was, I gave but little faith to him. His eyes,
however, looked the size of saucers, and finally he fell over,
exclaiming, "It's come," and the shell fell between my legs, my oilcloth
keeping it from burying itself deep enough to retain it. There I was, a
shell with a burning fuse, in between my legs. It was death to do
nothing, death to run, not only for me, but for others. It was
impossible to get away from the shell, and instinct told me to get the
shell away from me and us. Without having time to think even, I arose
with the shell in my hands and dumped it out of the trenches. I scarcely
had time to squat down when it bursted. Being outside, no one was hurt.
I will take occasion to say here that this was no act of bravery. It was
an inspiration that caused me to do it, and I was the worst scared
fellow you ever saw, even more scared than Morrison or Stewart at any
time. It took me a day or two to recover from the fright I got.
We remained in the trenches this time till about the first of November,
when Grant again began to move around on the north side of the James.
Then we were taken out and carried over, and it was well for us that it
was so, for the day after we left the mine was sprung and many, very
many, killed, and on the same ground we had been and just left. History
will tell you of this. I was not there. On the day before the mine was
sprung the Yankees on the north side of the James had charged and taken
Fort Harrison, which was being held by the militia from Virginia. And on
the morning that the mine was sprung they made an assault on Fort
Gilmore, which was three miles from Fort Harrison, and garrisoned by
veterans from Virginia.
The assault was made to draw our forces from the trenches, hoping to get
enough away to make the springing of the mine a success, and to draw our
attention elsewhere. We left the trenches late in the afternoon, and,
passing Fort Harrison, leaving it to the right, went on to Fort Gilmore.
We marched all night, arriving near Fort Gilmore at daybreak, when we
halted and were held as a reserve. The assault was made by negro troops,
with white officers with pistols in their hands, forcing the negroes
forward on pain of death. They made a creditable charge, a good many
jumping in the ditch in front of the fort. One charge, however,
satisfied them. About ten o'clock we went in and relieved the
Virginians and remained there till after midnight, when we in turn were
relieved and went down in front of Fort Harrison, arriving there just as
day was breaking. On moving from Fort Gilmore to Fort Harrison, about
three o'clock, before day, I took the company's canteens and went to a
well we were passing and filled up. This got me some little behind, and
going down the road to overtake our command a solitary horseman overtook
me. I discovered at once it was Gen. Lee. He said, "What are you doing
behind, my little fellow?" And when I told him I had stopped at the well
just passed to fill the company's canteens he said, "Well, hurry and
catch up; they will need you by daylight." When I did get up I told the
boys we would have h---- by daylight, and told them that Gen. Lee had
told me so.
In front of Fort Harrison we took our position in an old ditch trench
which had been thrown up there perhaps a couple of years. This was not
more than eight hundred yards in front of the fort. The Yankees had been
reinforcing all night, and when day broke they were well garrisoned,
with negro troops mostly. We remained in this position, awaiting the
signal gun, when the advance on the Fort would be made from two sides.
Tige Anderson's Georgians were to lead the charge on the front,
supported by our brigade (Bratton's). Two other brigades were to attack
the side. Capt. Wood's boy, Fred, brought in breakfast, and Capt. Wood,
Eddie Bellinger and myself sat down to eat. Capt. Wood hurried through,
leaving Eddie and me. Then it was that Eddie said to me, "Frank, I will
be killed this day. In an hour I will be a dead man." I told him if I
felt that way I would go to Dr. Martin Bellinger, brigade surgeon, and
be excused. He would not go. Just then the signal gun fired, and Tige
Anderson, with his Georgians, led off, slowly at first. We were called
to attention, and I missed Stewart. The negro boy, Fred, hearing me
asking about him, said he had passed Mr. Stewart a mile back. I turned
to Morrison and told him if he did not go this time I swear I would kill
him. I intended to keep my eye on him. We were now ordered to advance.
Anderson had started his charge, and as soon as we got straightened out,
and after crossing the old ditch, we, too, charged. Now the Yankees were
mowing Anderson down with grape and cannister, and we, being only a
short distance behind, were getting the full benefit of every fire. I
tell you, it was a grand sight to see our boy colonel. He was about the
middle of the regiment, in front of it. We were at double quick. Jim
Hagood kept his eyes on the fort, and when he saw smoke from a cannon,
he would cry, "Down, First," at the same time falling flat himself. When
the grape and cannister had passed over he was the first up, and in that
commanding voice, "Up, and forward, First." This he repeated more than
half a dozen times. Anderson had now gotten to within about forty yards
of the fort, where the firing was so fierce, furious and fatal. His men
lay down. We kept on, and just before we reached them they commenced to
holler to us to stop. Anderson was walking up and down, begging them to
forward. Then he would curse them. About now Lieut. Best, of our
company, said, "Frank, I am shot through the thigh." I told him to go
back. He said no. Only a step or two and he was shot clear through on
the right side, the ball entering about the nipple. He now turned to go
back, but just as he turned another ball hit him in the back, about an
inch below where the other ball had come out, passing clear through,
coming out where the other ball had entered. He now fell, and Sid Key,
with another man with a litter, picked him up to take him off. As they
raised him up another ball knocked off two of his toes, making four
wounds for him. I think he is still alive--was a few years ago. When
Lieut. Best fell we were passing through Anderson's Brigade. I heard
Anderson, as a last incentive to his men, say, "Georgia, you don't
intend to let South Carolina beat you." I jumped up and hollered out,
"Hurrah for South Carolina." But just as I struck the ground a ball
struck me, and an old Georgian, who was lying flat on his belly, looking
over his shoulder back at us, saw it and heard me, and said, "Oh, yes,
G---- d---- South Carolina, now." This made such an impression on me
that I have always believed that I would recognize that fellow's face
wherever I saw it again. I was fortunately hit in the hand, breaking the
knuckle of my forefinger on the left hand. I dropped my gun, and,
running back to a pine, I got in behind it to examine how badly I was
hurt, and when I discovered the bone shattered I pulled off my
accoutrements, throwing them down, so I could have a good chance for
running. Going only a short distance I heard the voice of Lieut. Col.
Ben Kirkland, and I pulled up to see what was the matter. He was
standing over an officer of our regiment, a captain, cursing him for all
kinds of coward, and told him if he did not get up and go on with his
company he would wear him out with his sword. I saw him get up, then I
lit out again. On getting back to where we had started, sitting there
alone was Morrison, who told me that when Lieut. Best was hit he left. I
went on a little back to where the field hospital was located (the field
hospital is only to receive the wounded, staunch the blood of those who
are likely to bleed to death, put them in an ambulance, sending them
back to the general hospital). While hanging around there I noticed
someone brought up on a litter, who, upon being put down, beckoned to
me. I went up to him, failing at first to recognize him; but upon close
inspection I discovered Capt. Wood. He was shot directly below his nose,
the ball passing back lodged in the back of his neck, knocking out his
teeth and lodging them in his tongue. He was terribly disfigured at that
time, but was operated on that night, they cutting out the ball from his
neck, taking his teeth out of his tongue, etc. After the war he looked
nearly as handsome as ever, and he was a handsome man.
I went on down from the field hospital to the regiment, after they were
driven back, and it was a poor sight, indeed--only ninety-three men were
left in the entire regiment. Eddie Bellinger had fallen, leading the
regiment in about thirty yards of the fort. When the colonel ordered the
regiment to fall back he discovered his colors missing and saw them on
the ground nearer the fort than he was. He ran up there and found Eddie
dead with the colors gripped so hard that he had to pry his fingers open
with his sword to get them away. This all happened in thirty yards of
the fort, in an open field. The Yankees were so amazed at Col. Hagood's
action that they did not shoot on him while he was doing this gallant
deed. Col. Hagood then called Jim Diamond, who was not wounded, and
turned the colors over to him. He brought them out. Next day the Yankees
sent over a flag of truce, asking the name of the gallant officer who
had rescued the colors--they buried Eddie with military honors.
I did not get my wound dressed until the day after the fight. That
evening I went back to the general hospital. Dr. Wallace Bailey, from
the Four Mile, our surgeon, glanced at it casually and told me he would
cut off the finger when he had time--the surgeons were all busy that
evening, all night and next day. Capt. Wood was operated on during the
night and looked badly next morning. Many a poor fellow lost an arm or
a leg out here. That night this hospital was cleaned up, all of us being
loaded on boats and sent to the hospital in Richmond, reaching there
some time about midnight, and were immediately unloaded into a large
kind of warehouse that had been prepared with cots, etc., for a kind of
reception hospital. Here we were seen after by the ladies, our wounds
dressed, and nourishment given us. Those who were not too badly wounded
were sent on next day to the regular hospital. I did not let Dr. Bailey
cut off my finger. _I have it yet._