"At 4.30 P. M. (Wednesday) we came in sight of Gettysburg, and

joined General Lee and General Hill, who were on the top of one

of the ridges which form the peculiar feature of the country

round Gettysburg. We could see the enemy retreating up one of the

opposite ridges, pursued by the Confederates with loud yells.

"The position into which the enemy had been driven was evidently

a strong one. General Hill now came up, and told me he had been

very unwell all day, and in fact he looks very delicate. He said

he had two of his divisions engaged, and had driven the enemy

four miles into his present position, capturing a great many

prisoners, some cannon, and some colors; he said, however, that

the Yankees had fought with a determination unusual to them. He

pointed out a railway cutting in which they had made a good

stand; also a field, in the centre of which he had seen a man

plant the regimental colors, round which the regiment had fought

for some time with much obstinacy; and when at last it was

obliged to retreat, the color-bearer retired last of all, turning

round every now and then to shake his fist at the advancing

Rebels. General Hill said he felt quite sorry when he saw this

gallant Yankee meet his doom.

"General Ewell had come up at 3.30 on the enemy's right and

completed his discomfiture.

"General Reynolds, one of the best Yankee generals, was reported

killed. Whilst we were talking, a message arrived from General

Ewell, requesting Hill to press the enemy in front, whilst he

performed the same operation on his right. The pressure was

accordingly applied in a mild degree, but the enemy were too

strongly posted, and it was too late in the evening for a regular

attack."[48]

[Footnote 48: Freemantle.]

[Illustration: Gettysburg battlefield.]

General Hill and General Lee had been observant of the "determination

unusual to the Yankees." The "pressure" brought upon Howard in the

cemetery, at nightfall, was resisted by men who had suffered defeat,

who had left a third of their comrades dead or wounded on the field,

or as prisoners in the hands of the enemy. But the Rebel

rank-and-file, remembering only the victories they had already won,

did not for a moment doubt their ability to win another. They were

flushed with the enthusiasm of repeated successes.

On the other hand, the soldiers of the Union believed, with Howard,

Hancock, Sickles, and other officers, that they could hold the

position against the assaults of Lee. It was not a calculation of

advantages,--of the value of hills, ravines, fields, and meadows,--or

of numbers, but a determination to win the day or to die on the spot.

Such were the feelings of the opposing parties on that sunny

afternoon, as they appeared in line of battle.

The Rebel forces moving to the attack south of Wentz's were wholly

under Longstreet's command. Anderson's division of Hill's corps was

joined to McLaw's and Hood's, to form the attacking column. The

Washington Artillery of New Orleans was in the woods southwest of

Wentz's house. Barksdale's Mississippians were behind artillery. A few

rods west of the same house, on a narrow road leading towards

Hagerstown, is the residence of Mr. Warfield. A third of a mile north

of Wentz's, on the Emmettsburg road, is the house of Philip Snyder.

Between Warfield's and Snyder's, Longstreet planted fifty or sixty

guns to bear on the peach-orchard and the batteries which Sickles had

stationed along the road leading past Trostle's, and upon the woods

east of the house of Mr. Rose.

Longstreet's plan was to attack with all the vigor possible,--to bear

down all opposition in the outset. Commanders frequently begin an

engagement by feeling of the enemy's position,--advancing a few

skirmishers, a regiment, or a brigade; but in this instance Longstreet

advanced all but his reserve.

It was half past three. Riding rapidly to the right to see if there

were signs of activity in that direction, dismounting in rear of the

line, and tying my horse to a tree, I took a look northward. A mile to

the north Rebel officers were in view, galloping furiously over the

fields, disappearing in groves, dashing down the road to the town, and

again returning. There was a battery in position beyond the railroad,

and as I looked narrowly at an opening between two groves, I saw the

glistening of bayonets, and a line as if a column of men were marching

east toward the thick forest on Rock Creek. It was surmised that they

were to attack our right upon Culp's Hill by advancing directly down

Rock Creek through the woods. Prisoners captured said that Ewell had

sworn a terrible oath to turn our flank, if it took his last man. To

guard against such a movement, Slocum was throwing up breastworks from

the crest of the hill down to Rock Creek. Two batteries were placed in

position on hillocks south of the turnpike, to throw shells up the

creek, should such an attempt be made. The Union Cavalry in long lines

was east of the creek, and the Reserve Artillery, in parks, with

horses harnessed, was in the open field south of Slocum's

head-quarters.

'As near as I can make out, the Rebels have got a line of batteries in

that piece of woods,' said an officer who had been looking steadily

across the ravine to Blocher's Hill. Laying my glass upon the

breastwork, I could see the guns and the artillerymen beside their

pieces, as if ready to begin the action.

Suddenly there came the roar of a gun from the south. It was

Longstreet's signal. Another, another, and the fire ran from Snyder's

to the Seminary, then round to Blocher's Hill.

I was at the moment near the cemetery. There came a storm of shot and

shell. Marble slabs were broken, iron fences shattered, horses

disembowelled. The air was full of wild, hideous noises,--the low buzz

of round shot, the whizzing of elongated bolts, and the stunning

explosions of shells, overhead and all around.

There was a quick response from the Union batteries. In three minutes

the earth shook with the tremendous concussion of two hundred pieces

of artillery.

The missiles of the Rebels came from the northeast, north, northwest,

west, and southwest. The position occupied by the Vermont nine months'

men was one of great exposure, as the ground in rear of the cemetery

was the centre of a converging fire.

"Lie close," said General Stannard to the men. They obeyed him, but he

walked to the top of the ridge and watched the coming on of the storm

in the southwest.

The Fifth Corps had not moved into position, but was resting after the

sixteen miles' march from Hanover.

The Rebels of Longstreet's command first in sight come out from the

woods behind Warfield's house, a long line in the form of a crescent,

reaching almost to Round-top. Ames's battery was the first to open

upon them. Thompson, Clark, and Phillips began to thunder almost

simultaneously. Bigelow, from his position, could not get a sight at

them till two or three minutes later. The Third Michigan, Second New

Hampshire, and Third Maine were the first regiments engaged. The fire

ran down the line towards Rose's house. The regiments in the woods

along the ravine south of the house,--the Seventeenth Maine, Third

Michigan, and others,--were soon in the fight. A portion of the

Seventeenth Maine had been skirmishing all the morning.

Ward's brigade on the rocky ridge in front of Weed's Hill was assailed

by Hood. How fearful the fight! Sickles's front line, after an

obstinate struggle, was forced back. He was obliged to withdraw his

batteries by Wentz's house. Bigelow retired firing by prolonge, over

the rocky ground. The contest in the peach-orchard and around Rose's

house was exceedingly bloody. Sickles sent his aide for

reinforcements: "I want batteries and men!" said he.

"I want you to hold on where you are until I can get a line of

batteries in rear of you," said Colonel McGilvery, commanding the

artillery of the Third Corps, to Bigelow. "Give them canister!" he

added as he rode away. Bigelow's men never had been under fire, but

they held on till every charge of canister was spent, and then

commenced on spherical case. Bigelow was just west of Trostle's barn.

A Rebel battery hastened up and unlimbered in the field. He opened

with all his guns, and they limbered up again. McGilvery's batteries

were not in position, and the gallant captain and his brave men would

not leave. The Rebels rushed upon the guns, and were blown from the

muzzles. Others came with demoniac yells, climbing upon the limbers

and shooting horses. Sergeant Dodge went down, killed instantly; also

Sergeant Gilson. Lipman, Ferris, and Nutting, three of the cannoneers,

were gone, twenty-two of the men wounded, and Bigelow shot through the

side; also four men missing, yet they held on till McGilvery had his

batteries in position!

It was a heroic resistance. Gun after gun was abandoned to the

advancing Rebels. But the cannoneers were thoughtful to retain the

rammers, and though the Rebels seized the pieces they could not turn

them upon the slowly-retreating handful of men, who with two pieces

still growled defiance. Back to Trostle's door-yard, into the garden,

halting by the barn, delivering a steady fire, they held the enemy at

bay till the batteries of the Fifth Corps, a little east of Trostle's,

and the arrival of reinforcements of infantry, permitted their

withdrawal. More than sixty horses belonging to this one battery were

killed in this brief struggle at the commencement of the battle. With

the seizure of each piece the Rebels cheered, and advanced with

confident expectation of driving Sickles over the ridge.

But new actors came. Barnes's division of the Fifth went down through

Trostle's garden and through the grove south of the house, crossed the

road, and entered the woods. The Rebels were in the ravine by Rose's

house. Winslow's New York battery was in a wheat-field south of

Trostle's, holding them in check, while Hazlitt's battery on Weed's

Hill rained a torrent of shells from its rocky fortress.

Ayer's division of Regulars, which had been lying east of Weed's Hill,

moved upon the double-quick through the woods, up to the summit. The

whole scene was before them: the turmoil and commotion in the woods

below,--Barnes going in and the shattered regiments of the Third Corps

coming out. Some batteries were in retreat and others were taking new

positions. They dashed down the hillside, became a little disorganized

in crossing Plum Run, but formed again and went up the ridge among the

boulders, disappeared in the woods, stayed a few minutes, and then,

like a shattered wreck upon the foaming sea, came drifting to the

rear.

After the battle, an officer of the Seventeenth Regulars pointed out

to me the line of advance.

"We went down the hill upon the run," said he. "It was like going down

into hell! The Rebels were yelling like devils. Our men were falling

back. It was terrible confusion: smoke, dust, the rattle of musketry,

the roaring of cannon, the bursting of shells."

The Pennsylvania Reserves, under Crawford, went in. They were fighting

on their own soil. Among them were soldiers whose homes were in

Gettysburg.

Sickles called upon Hancock for help. Caldwell's division went down,

sweeping past Trostle's into the wheat-field, dashing through Barnes's

men, who were falling back. Regiments from three corps and from eight

or ten brigades were fighting promiscuously. The Rebel lines were also

in confusion,--advancing, retreating, gaining, and losing.

It was like the writhing of two wrestlers. Seventy thousand men were

contending for the mastery on a territory scarcely a mile square! It

has been called the battle of Little Round-top, but most of the

fighting at this point took place between Little Round-top on Weed's

Hill and the house of Mr. Rose. But there was also a contest around

and upon the hill.

The advance of Hood enveloped the Union force below. The men on Hood's

extreme right skirted the base of the hill, clambered over the rocks

by the "Devil's Den,"--a rocky gorge,--and began to pour into the gap

between Weed's and Round-top. Vincent's and Weed's brigades were

holding the hill. The Twentieth Maine, Colonel Chamberlain, was on the

extreme left. The Eighty-Third Pennsylvania, Forty-Fourth New York,

and Sixteenth Michigan were farther north. The Twentieth Maine stood

almost alone. There began to be a dropping of bullets along the line

from the Rebel skirmishers creeping into the gap, and Colonel

Chamberlain saw the enemy moving past his flank. He immediately

extended his own left flank by forming his men in single rank. The

fight was fierce. The Rebels greatly outnumbered Chamberlain, but he

had the advantage of position. He was on the crest of the hill, and at

every lull in the strife his men piled the loose stones into a rude

breastwork. He sent for assistance, but before the arrival of

reinforcements Hood's troops had gained the eastern side of the hill,

and the Twentieth Maine stood in the form of the letter U, with Rebels

in front, on their flank, and in rear.

It was nearly six o'clock. I was at Meade's head-quarters. The roar of

battle was louder and grew nearer. Hill was threatening the centre. A

cloud of dust could be seen down the Baltimore pike. Had Stuart

suddenly gained our rear? There were anxious countenances around the

cottage where the flag of the Commander-in-Chief was flying. Officers

gazed with their field-glasses. "It is not cavalry, but infantry,"

said one. "There is the flag. It is the Sixth Corps."

We could see the advancing bayonets gleaming in the setting sun. Faces

which a moment before were grave became cheerful. It was an inspiring

sight. The troops of that corps had marched thirty-two miles during

the day. They crossed Rock Creek, filed into the field, past the

ammunition train, threw themselves upon the ground, tossed aside their

knapsacks, and wiped the sweat from their sun-burnt cheeks.

"We want reinforcements. They are flanking us," said an officer,

riding up to Meade. Word was sent to Slocum, and Williams's division

of the Twelfth left their breastwork on Culp's Hill, came down upon

the double-quick, leaping the stone walls between Slocum's

head-quarters and the cemetery, and moved into the field west of the

Taneytown road.

Stannard's brigade was attached to the First Corps, commanded by

Doubleday. The Vermont boys had been lying on their faces through

the long, tormenting hours. They were ready for desperate work.

Doubleday dashed down to General Stannard. There is a strong

contrast between these two officers. Doubleday is tall,

broad-shouldered, a little stooping. He was in Sumter with Anderson

when the Rebels fired the first gun at the old flag. He is cool and

courageous. Stannard is short, straight, compactly built. He was a

private citizen at St. Albans, Vermont, when the war began. He is a

thorough citizen-soldier, as undaunted as his superior.

"You are wanted over there. Report to Hancock," said Doubleday.

The men of Vermont sprang to their feet, and went up the ridge toward

the southwest upon the run. At the same time an officer rode down to

the Sixth Corps. I saw the tired and weary men rise from the ground

and fall into line. They also moved off upon the run toward Weed's

Hill, which was all aflame. Hazlitt was firing canister from the top.

Nearly all the Third, Fifth, and Second Corps batteries were at work.

The sun was just setting. Sickles had been forced back from the

peach-orchard, and from Rose's house, but he was still holding

Trostle's. The dark lines of the Sixth Corps became lost to sight, as

they moved into the woods crowning the hill. There were quicker

volleys, a lighting up of the sky by sudden flashes, followed by a

cheer,--not the wild yell peculiar to the Rebels, but a sharp, clear

hurrah, from the men who had held the hill. Longstreet was giving up

the struggle, and his men were falling back. Colonel Randall, with

five companies of the Thirteenth Vermont, led the advance of General

Stannard's column. Hancock had been forced to leave the guns of one of

his batteries on the field near Codori's house.

The Rebel sharpshooters were lying along the Emmettsburg road, pouring

in a deadly fire, under cover of which a large body of Rebels was

advancing to take possession of the pieces.

"Can you retake that battery?" was Hancock's question to Randall.

"We'll do it or die, sir!"

"Then go in."

"Forward!" said Randall, turning in his saddle and waving his sword.

His men gave a cheer, and broke into a run. The Colonel's horse fell,

shot through the shoulder, but the Colonel dashed ahead on foot. They

reached the guns, drew them to the rear. The Rebels came on with a

rush. But help was at hand,--the Fourteenth Maine joined the

Vermonters. Leaving the guns the soldiers faced about, charged upon

the Rebels, captured eighty-three prisoners, and two Rebel cannon, and

then returned! Long and loud were the cheers that greeted them.

"You must be green, or you wouldn't have gone down there," said a

Pennsylvanian, who had been in a dozen battles. The blood of the

Vermont boys was up, and they had not calculated the consequences of

such a movement.

So closed the day on the left. But just as the contest was coming to

an end around Weed's Hill, it suddenly commenced on the north side of

the cemetery. Hayes's brigade of Louisiana Tigers, and Hoke's North

Carolinians, belonging to Early's division of Ewell's corps, had been

creeping across Spangler's farm, up the northern slope of the cemetery

hill. Suddenly, with a shout they sprang upon Barlow's division,

commanded by Amos. It was a short, fierce, but decisive contest. The

attack was sudden, but the men of Ames's command were fully prepared.

There was a struggle over the guns of two Pennsylvania batteries. The

Fifth Maine battery was in an exceedingly favorable position, at an

angle of the earthworks, east of the hill, and cut down the Rebels

with a destructive enfilading fire. The struggle lasted scarcely five

minutes,--the Rebels retreating in confusion to the town.

When Slocum went with Williams to the left there were no indications

of an attack on Culp's Hill, but unexpectedly Ewell made his

appearance in the woods along Rock Creek. General Green, who had been

left in command, extended his line east and made a gallant fight, but

not having men enough to occupy all the ground, Ewell was able to take

possession of the hollow along the Creek. When Williams returned, he

found his entrenchments in possession of the enemy. The men of the

Twelfth threw themselves on the ground in the fields on both sides of

the Baltimore pike, for rest till daybreak.

"We are doing well," was Longstreet's report to Lee at seven o'clock

in the evening, from the left.[49] Ewell himself rode down through the

town, to report his success on the right.

[Footnote 49: Blackwood's Magazine, September, 1863.]

At a later hour Longstreet reported that he had carried everything

before him for some time, capturing several batteries, and driving the

Yankees; but when Hill's Florida brigade and some other troops gave

way, he was forced to abandon a small portion of the ground he had

won, together with all the captured guns except three.

It was late in the evening when I threw myself upon a pile of straw in

an old farm-house, near the Baltimore pike, for a few hours' rest,

expecting that with the early morning there would be a renewal of the

battle.

There was the constant rumble of artillery moving into position, of

ammunition and supply wagons going up to the troops. Lights were

gleaming in the hollows, beneath the shade of oaks and pines, where

the surgeons were at work, and where, through the dreary hours

wailings and moanings rent the air; yet though within musket-shot of

the enemy, and surrounded with dying and dead, I found refreshing

sleep.

THIRD DAY.

FRIDAY, July 3.

Boom! boom! Two guns, deep and heavy, at four o'clock. It was a sultry

morning. The clouds hung low upon the hills. Two more! and then more

rapidly than the tick of a pendulum came the concussions. There were

flashes from all the hills,--flashes in the woods along Rock Creek.

The cemetery was aflame. The door which had been opened against Slocum

was to be closed, and this was the beginning of the effort.

The cannonade broke the stillness of the morning, and drowned all

other sounds. Riding up the turnpike to the batteries, I had a good

view of the battle-ground. General Sickles was being carried to the

rear on a stretcher. He had suffered amputation. Following him was a

large number of prisoners, taken in the fight upon the left. Some were

haggard and care-worn,--others indifferent, or sulky, and some very

jolly. "I have got into the Union after hard fighting," said one, "and

I intend to stay there."

There were a few musket-shots in the woods upon the hill, from the

pickets in advance. Slocum was preparing to regain what had been lost.

It was seven o'clock before he was ready to move. The men moved

slowly, but determinedly. The Rebels were in the rifle-pits, and

opened a furious fire. A thin veil of smoke rose above the trees, and

floated away before the morning breeze. Rapid the fire of

musketry,--terrific the cannonade. Ewell was determined not to be

driven back. He held on with dogged pertinacity. He had sworn

profanely to hold the position, but in vain his effort. The rifle-pits

were regained, and he was driven, inch by inch, up Rock Creek.

It took four hours to do it, however. Ewell, well knowing the

importance of holding the position, brought in all of his available

force. Johnson's, Rhodes's, and Early's divisions, all were engaged.

To meet these General Shaler's brigade of the Sixth Corps was brought

up to Culp's Hill, while Neil's brigade of the same corps was thrown

in upon Early's flank east of Rock Creek, and the work was

accomplished. The men fought from behind trees and rocks, with great

tenacity. It was the last attempt of Lee upon Meade's right.

Gregg's and Kilpatrick's divisions of cavalry were east of Rock Creek.

An orderly came dashing down the Hanover road.

"Stuart is coming round on our right!" said he. "General Pleasanton

sends his compliments to General Gregg, desiring him to go out

immediately and hold Stuart in check. His compliments also to General

Kilpatrick, desiring him to go down beyond Round-top, and pitch in

with all his might on Longstreet's left."

I was conversing with the two officers at the time.

"Good! come on, boys!" shouted Kilpatrick, rubbing his hands with

pleasure. The notes of the bugle rang loud and clear above the rumble

of the passing army wagons, and Kilpatrick's column swept down the

hill, crossed the creek, and disappeared beyond Round-top. A half-hour

later I saw the smoke of his artillery, and heard the wild shout of

his men as they dashed recklessly upon the Rebel lines. It was the

charge in which General Farnsworth and a score of gallant officers

gave up their lives.

General Gregg's division formed in the fields east of Wolf Hill.

Stuart had already extended his line along the Bonnoughtown road.

There was a brisk cannonade between the light batteries, and Stuart

retired, without attempting to cut out the ammunition trains parked

along the pike.

Through the forenoon it was evident that Lee was preparing for another

attack. He had reconnoitred the ground with Longstreet in the morning,

and decided to assault Meade's line between the cemetery and Weed's

Hill with a strong force. He could form the attacking column out of

sight, in the woods west of Codori's house. In advancing the troops

would be sheltered till they reached the Emmettsburg road. Howard's

guns in the cemetery would trouble them most by enfilading the lines.

Howard must be silenced by a concentrated artillery fire. The cemetery

could be seen from every part of the line occupied by the Rebels, and

all the available batteries were brought into position to play upon

it, and upon the position occupied by the Second Corps.

The arrangements were intrusted to Longstreet. He selected Pickett's,

Pender's, Heth's, and Anderson's divisions. Pickett's were fresh

troops. Heth had been wounded, and Pettigrew was in command of the

division. Wilcox's and Perry's brigades of Anderson's division had the

right of the first Rebel line. Pickett's division occupied the centre

of the first line, followed by Pender's. Heth's division, followed by

Wright's brigade of Anderson's, had the left of the line.

Wilcox and Perry's line of advance was past Klingel's house. Pickett's

right swept across the Emmettsburg road by the house of Peter Rogers;

his left reached to Codori's, where it joined Pettigrew's. Rhodes's

division of Ewell's corps was brought down from the woods by Smucker's

house, and put in position south of the town, to support Pettigrew's

left. The attacking column numbered from twenty to twenty-five

thousand men, but the force in support gave nearly thirty-five

thousand men which Longstreet had in hand.

The movements of the Rebels, as seen from the Union lines, indicated

an attack upon our extreme left. The Fifth, Third, and Sixth Corps

therefore were placed well down toward Round-top.

Commencing at the Taneytown road and walking south, we have the

following disposition of the troops resisting this attack. Robinson's

division of the First Corps, reaching from the road along an oak

grove, past a small house occupied by a colored man. Hays's division

lay behind a stone wall, and a small grove of shrub-oaks. Gibbon had

no protection except a few rails gathered from the fences. There are

three oak-trees which mark the spot occupied by Hall's brigade.

Harrow's was just beyond it, south. In front of Harrow's, six or

eight rods, were three regiments of Stannard's Vermont brigade,--the

Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Sixteenth,--lying in a shallow trench.

Caldwell's division extended from Gibbon's to the narrow road leading

past Trostle's house. The ridge in rear of the troops bristled with

artillery. The infantry line was thin, but the artillery was compact

and powerful.

Longstreet having made his disposition for the attack, and the Rebel

artillery not being ready, threw himself on the ground and went to

sleep.[50]

[Footnote 50: Blackwood's Magazine, September,

1864.--Freemantle.]

Lee reconnoitred the position from the cupola of the college, over

which the Confederate hospital-flag was flying,--thus violating what

has been deemed even by half-civilized races a principle of honor.

Visiting General Meade's head-quarters in the house of Mrs. Leister,

in the forenoon, I saw the Commander-in-chief seated at a table with a

map of Gettysburg spread out before him. General Warren, chief

engineer, was by his side. General Williams, his Adjutant-General, who

knew the strength of every regiment, was sitting on the bed, ready to

answer any question. General Hunt, chief of artillery, was lying on

the grass beneath a peach-tree in the yard. General Pleasanton, chief

of the cavalry, neat and trim in dress and person, with a riding-whip

tucked into his cavalry boots, was walking uneasily about. Aids were

coming and going; a signal-officer in the yard was waving his flags in

response to one on Round-top.

"Signal-officer on Round-top reports Rebels moving towards our left,"

said the officer to General Meade.

It was five minutes past one when the signal-gun for the opening of

the battle was given by the Rebels on Seminary Hill. Instantly the

whole line of Rebel batteries, an hundred and fifty guns, joined in

the cannonade. All of the guns northeast, north, and northwest of the

town concentrated their fire upon the cemetery. Those west and

southwest opened on Hancock's position. Solid shot and shells poured

incessantly upon the cemetery and along the ridge. The intention of

Lee was soon understood,--to silence Howard's batteries because they

enfiladed the attacking force ready to move over the fields toward the

centre, our weakest point. If they could give to the living who held

the burial-place a quiet as profound as that of the sleepers beneath

the ground, then they might hope to break through the thin line of men

composing the Second Corps.

But Howard was not a man to be kept quiet at such a time without

especial cause. His horses were knocked to pieces, the tombstones

shivered, iron railings torn, shrubs and trees cut down, here and

there men killed, but his batteries were not silenced.

Mr. Wilkenson of the New York _Tribune_, who was at General Meade's

head-quarters when the fire was severest, thus describes the scene:--

"In the shadow cast by the tiny farm-house, sixteen by twenty,

which General Meade had made his head-quarters, lay wearied staff

officers and tired correspondents. There was not wanting to the

peacefulness of the scene the singing of a bird, which had a nest

in a peach-tree within the tiny yard of the whitewashed cottage.

In the midst of its warbling a shell screamed over the house,

instantly followed by another, and another, and in a moment the

air was full of the most complete artillery-prelude to an

infantry battle that was ever exhibited. Every size and form of

shell known to British and to American gunnery shrieked, whirled,

moaned, and whistled, and wrathfully fluttered over our ground.

As many as six in a second, constantly two in a second, bursting

and screaming over and around the head-quarters, made a very hell

of fire that amazed the oldest officers. They burst in the

yard,--burst next to the fence on both sides, garnished as usual

with the hitched horses of aides and orderlies. The fastened

animals reared and plunged with terror. Then one fell, then

another,--sixteen lay dead and mangled before the fire ceased,

still fastened by their halters, which gave the expression of

being wickedly tied up to die painfully. These brute victims of a

cruel war touched all hearts. Through the midst of the storm of

screaming and exploding shells an ambulance, driven by its

frenzied conductor at full speed, presented to all of us the

marvellous spectacle of a horse going rapidly on three legs. A

hinder one had been shot off at the hock. A shell tore up the

little step at the head-quarters cottage, and ripped bags of oats

as with a knife. Another soon carried off one of its two pillars.

Soon a spherical case burst opposite the open door,--another

ripped through the low garret. The remaining pillar went almost

immediately to the howl of a fixed shot that Whitworth must have

made. During this fire, the horses at twenty and thirty feet

distant were receiving their death, and soldiers in Federal blue

were torn to pieces in the road, and died with the peculiar yells

that blend the extorted cry of pain with horror and despair. Not

an orderly, not an ambulance, not a straggler was to be seen upon

the plain swept by this tempest of orchestral death, thirty

minutes after it commenced. Were not one hundred and twenty

pieces of artillery trying to cut from the field every battery we

had in position to resist their purposed infantry attack, and to

sweep away the slight defences behind which our infantry were

waiting? Forty minutes,--fifty minutes,--counted watches that

ran, O so languidly! Shells through the two lower rooms. A shell

into the chimney, that daringly did not explode. Shells in the

yard. The air thicker, and fuller, and more deafening with the

howling and whirring of these infernal missiles. The Chief of

Staff struck,--Seth Williams,--loved and respected through the

army, separated from instant death by two inches of space

vertically measured. An aide bored with a fragment of iron

through the bone of the arm. And the time measured on the

sluggish watches was one hour and forty minutes."

A soldier was lying on the ground a few rods distant from where I was

sitting. There was a shriek, such as I hope never again to hear, and

his body was whirling in the air, a mangled mass of flesh, blood, and

bones!

A shell exploding in the cemetery, killed and wounded twenty-seven men

in one regiment![51] and yet the troops, lying under the

fences,--stimulated and encouraged by General Howard, who walked

coolly along the line,--kept their places and awaited the attack.

[Footnote 51: General Howard's Report.]

It was half past two o'clock.

"We will let them think that they have silenced us," said General

Howard to Major Osborne. The artillerists threw themselves upon the

ground beside their pieces.

Suddenly there was a shout,--"Here they come!"

Every man was on the alert. The cannoneers sprang to their feet. The

long lines emerged from the woods, and moved rapidly but steadily over

the fields, towards the Emmettsburg road.

Howard's batteries burst into flame, throwing shells with the utmost

rapidity. There are gaps in the Rebel ranks, but onward still they

come. They reach the Emmettsburg road. Pickett's division appears by

Klingel's house. All of Howard's guns are at work now. Pickett turns

to the right, moving north, driven in part by the fire rolling in upon

his flank from Weed's Hill, and from the Third, Fifth, and Sixth Corps

batteries. Suddenly he faces east, descends the gentle slope from the

road behind Codori's, crosses the meadow, comes in reach of the

muskets of the Vermonters. The three regiments rise from their shallow

trench. The men beneath the oak-trees leap from their low breastwork

of rails. There is a ripple, a roll, a deafening roar. Yet the

momentum of the Rebel column carries it on. It is becoming thinner and

weaker, but they still advance.

The Second Corps is like a thin blue ribbon. Will it withstand the

shock? "Give them canister! Pour it into them!" shouts Major Charles

Howard, running from battery to battery. The Rebel line is almost up

to the grove in front of Robinson's. It has reached the clump of

shrub-oaks. It has drifted past the Vermont boys. Onward still. "Break

their third line! Smash their supports!" cries General Howard, and

Osborne and Wainwright send the fire of fifty guns into the column,

each piece fired three times a minute! The cemetery is lost to

view,--covered with sulphurous clouds, flaming and smoking and

thundering like Sinai on the great day of the Lord! The front line of

Rebels is melting away,--the second is advancing to take its place;

but beyond the first and second is the third, which reels, breaks, and

flies to the woods from whence it came, unable to withstand the storm.

Hancock is wounded, and Gibbon is in command of the Second Corps.

"Hold your fire, boys; they are not near enough yet," says Gibbon, as

Pickett comes on. The first volley staggers, but does not stop them.

They move upon the run,--up to the breastwork of rails,--bearing

Hancock's line to the top of the ridge,--so powerful their momentum.

Men fire into each other's faces, not five feet apart. There are

bayonet-thrusts, sabre-strokes, pistol-shots; cool, deliberate

movements on the part of some,--hot, passionate, desperate efforts

with others; hand-to-hand contests; recklessness of life; tenacity of

purpose; fiery determination; oaths, yells, curses, hurrahs,

shoutings; men going down on their hands and knees, spinning round

like tops, throwing out their arms, gulping up blood, falling;

legless, armless, headless. There are ghastly heaps of dead men.

Seconds are centuries; minutes, ages; but the thin line does not

break!

The Rebels have swept past the Vermont regiments. "Take them in

flank," says General Stannard.

The Thirteenth and Sixteenth swing out from the trench, turn a right

angle to the main line, and face the north. They move forward a few

steps, pour a deadly volley into the backs of Kemper's troops. With a

hurrah they rush on, to drive home the bayonet. The Fifteenth,

Nineteenth, Twentieth Massachusetts, and Seventh Michigan, Twentieth

New York, Nineteenth Maine, One Hundred Fifty-First Pennsylvania, and

other regiments catch the enthusiasm of the moment, and close upon the

foe.

The Rebel column has lost its power. The lines waver. The soldiers of

the front rank look round for their supports. They are gone,--fleeing

over the field, broken, shattered, thrown into confusion by the

remorseless fire from the cemetery and from the cannon on the ridge.

The lines have disappeared like a straw in a candle's flame. The

ground is thick with dead, and the wounded are like the withered

leaves of autumn. Thousands of Rebels throw down their arms and give

themselves up as prisoners.

How inspiring the moment! How thrilling the hour! It is the high-water

mark of the Rebellion,--a turning-point of history and of human

destiny!

Treason had wielded its mightiest blow. From that time the Rebellion

began to wane. An account of the battle, written on the following day,

and published on the 6th of July in the Boston _Journal_, contains the

following passage:--

"The invasion of the North was over,--the power of the Southern

Confederacy broken. There at that sunset hour I could discern the

future; no longer an overcast sky, but the clear, unclouded

starlight,--a country redeemed, saved, baptized, consecrated anew

to the coming ages.

"All honor to the heroic living, all glory to the gallant dead!

They have not fought in vain, they have not died for naught. No

man liveth to himself alone. Not for themselves, but for their

children; for those who may never hear of them in their

nameless graves, how they yielded life; for the future; for all

that is good, pure, holy, just, true; for humanity,

righteousness, peace; for Paradise on earth; for Christ and for

God, they have given themselves a willing sacrifice. Blessed be

their memory forevermore!"

[Illustration: "With a hurrah they rush on!"]

I rode along the lines, and beheld the field by the light of the

gleaming stars. The dead were everywhere thickly strown. How changed

the cemetery! Three days before, its gravelled walks were smooth and

clean; flowers were in bloom; birds carolled their songs amid the

trees; the monuments were undefaced; the marble slabs pure and white.

Now there were broken wheels and splintered caissons; dead horses,

shot in the neck, in the head, through the body, disembowelled by

exploding shells, legs broken, flesh mangled and torn; pools of blood,

scarlet stains on the headstones, green grass changed to crimson;

marble slabs shivered; the ground ploughed by solid shot, holes blown

out by bursting shells; dead men lying where they had fallen, wounded

men creeping to the rear; cries and groans all around me! Fifty shells

a minute had fallen upon that small enclosure. Not for a moment was

there thought of abandoning the position. How those batteries of

Osborne and Wainwright, of the Eleventh and First Corps, had lightened

and thundered! There were scores of dead by the small house where the

left of the Rebel line advanced, lying just as they were smitten down,

as if a thunderbolt had fallen upon the once living mass!

An English officer, who saw the battle from the Rebel lines, thus says

of the repulse:--

"I soon began to meet many wounded men returning from the front;

many of them asked in piteous tones the way to a doctor, or an

ambulance. The further I got the greater became the number of the

wounded. At last I came to a perfect stream of them flocking

through the woods in numbers as great as the crowd in Oxford

Street in the middle of the day.... They were still under a heavy

fire; the shells were continually bringing down great limbs of

trees, and carrying further destruction amongst their melancholy

procession. I saw all this in much less time than it takes to

write it, and although astonished to meet such a vast number of

wounded, I had not seen enough to give me an idea of the real

extent of the mischief.

"When I got close up to General Longstreet, I saw one of his

regiments advancing through the woods in good order; so, thinking

I was just in time to see the attack, I remarked to the General

that 'I wouldn't have missed this for anything.' Longstreet was

seated on the top of a snake-fence, in the edge of the wood, and

looking perfectly calm and unperturbed. He replied, 'The devil

you wouldn't! I would like to have missed it very much; we've

attacked and been repulsed. Look there!'

"For the first time I then had a view of the open space between

the two positions, and saw it covered with Confederates slowly

and sulkily returning towards us in small broken parties....

"I remember seeing a general (Pettigrew I think it was) come up

to him and report that he was unable to bring his men up again.

Longstreet turned upon him and replied with some sarcasm: 'Very

well,--never mind, then, General; just let them remain where they

are. The enemy is going to advance, and will spare you the

trouble.' ...

"Soon afterward I joined General Lee, who had in the mean while

come to the front, on becoming aware of the disaster. He was

engaged in rallying and in encouraging the troops, and was riding

about a little in front of the woods quite alone, the whole of

his staff being engaged in a similar manner further to the rear.

His face, which is always placid and cheerful, did not show signs

of the slightest disappointment, care, or annoyance; and he was

addressing to every soldier he met a few words of encouragement,

such as, 'All this will come right in the end; we will talk it

over afterwards,--but in the mean time all good men must rally.

We want all good men and true men just now,' &c.... He said to

me,'This has been a sad day for us, Colonel,--a sad day; but we

can't expect always to gain victories.' ... I saw General Wilcox

(an officer who wears a short round jacket and a battered straw

hat) come up to him, and explain, almost crying, the state of his

brigade. General Lee immediately shook hands with him, and said,

cheerfully, 'Never mind, General. All this has been my fault,--it

is I that have lost this fight, and you must help me out of it in

the best way you can.'"[52]

[Footnote 52: Blackwood's Magazine, September,

1863.--Lieutenant-Colonel Freemantle.]

It was past eleven o'clock in the evening when I rode up from the

gory field, over the ridge, where the Second Corps had stood like a

wall of adamant. Meade's head-quarters were in a grove, east of the

small house where he established himself at the beginning of the

battle. The fire had been too hot at Mrs. Leister's. Meade was

sitting on a great flat boulder, listening to the reports of his

officers, brought in by couriers. It was a scene which lives in

memory: a dark forest,--the evening breeze gently rustling the green

leaves over our heads,--the katydids and locusts singing

cheerily,--the bivouac fires glimmering on the ground, revealing the

surrounding objects,--the gnarled trees, torn by cannon-shot,--the

mossy stones,--the group of officers,--Williams, Warren, Howard (his

right sleeve wanting an arm), Pleasanton, as trim as in the morning;

Meade stooping, weary, his slouched hat laid aside, so that the

breeze might fan his brow.

"Bully! bully! bully all round!" said he; and then turning to his

chief of staff, Humphrey, said, "Order up rations and ammunition."

To General Hunt, chief of artillery, "Have your limbers filled. Lee

may be up to something in the morning, and we must be ready for him."

A band came up and played "Hail to the Chief!" the "Star-spangled

Banner," and "Yankee Doodle." Soul-stirring the strains. The soldiers,

lying on their arms, where they had fought, heard it, and responded

with a cheer. Not all: for thousands were deaf and inanimate evermore.

No accurate statement of the number engaged in this great, decisive

battle of the war can ever be given. Meade's march to Gettysburg was

made with great rapidity. The Provost Marshal of the army, General

Patrick, committed the great error of having no rear guard to bring up

the stragglers, which were left behind in thousands, and who found it

much more convenient to live on the excellent fare furnished by the

farmers than to face the enemy. Meade's entire force on the field

numbered probably from sixty to seventy thousand. The Rebel army had

made slower marches, and the soldiers could not straggle; they were in

an enemy's country. Lee, therefore, had fuller ranks than Meade. His

force may be estimated at ninety thousand men.

The people of the North expressed their gratitude to the heroes who

had won this battle, by pouring out their contributions for the relief

of the wounded. The agents of the Christian and Sanitary Commissions

were quickly on the ground, and hundreds of warm-hearted men and

women hastened to the spot to render aid. The morning after the battle

I saw a stout Pennsylvania farmer driving his two-horse farm wagon up

the Baltimore pike, loaded down with loaves of soft bread which his

wife and daughters had baked.

Tender and affecting are some of the incidents of the battle-field. A

delegate of the Christian Commission passing among the wounded, came

to an officer from South Carolina.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked.

"No!" was the surly reply.

He passed on, but upon his return repeated the question, and received

the same answer. The day was hot, the air offensive, from putrefying

wounds, and the delegate was putting cologne on the handkerchiefs of

the patients.

"Colonel, let me put some of this on your handkerchief."

The wounded man burst into tears. "I have no handkerchief."

"Well, you shall have one"; and wetting his own gave it to him.

"I can't understand you Yankees," said the Colonel. "You fight us like

devils, and then you treat us like angels. I am sorry I entered this

war."[53]

[Footnote 53: Address before Alumni of Williams College,

1865. Charles Demond.]

Said another Rebel,--an Irishman,--to a chaplain who took care of him,

"May every hair of your head be a wax-taper to light you on your way

to glory!"[54]

[Footnote 54: Ibid.]

A chaplain passing through the hospital, came to a cot where lay a

young wounded soldier who had fought for the Union.

"Poor fellow!" said the chaplain.

"Don't call me 'poor fellow!'" was the indignant reply.

"Dear fellow, then. Have you written to your mother since the battle?"

"No, sir!"

"You ought to. Here it is the tenth,--a whole week since the battle.

She will be anxious to hear from you."

The lad with his left hand threw aside the sheet which covered him,

and the chaplain saw that his right arm was off near the shoulder.

"That is the reason, sir, that I have not written. I have not

forgotten her, sir. I have prayed for her, and I thank God for giving

me so dear a mother."

Then turning aside the sheet farther, the chaplain saw that his left

leg was gone. Sitting down beside the young hero the chaplain wrote as

he dictated.

"Tell mother that I have given my right arm and my left leg to my

country, and that I am ready to give both of my other limbs!" said

he.[55]

[Footnote 55: Rev. Mr. Auley, meeting Christian Association,

Chicago.]

The courage and patriotism of Spartan mothers is immortalized in story

and song. "Return with your shield, or upon it," has been held up for

admiration through three thousand years. The Greek fire is not

extinguished; it burns to-day as bright and pure as ever at Salamis or

Marathon.

Riding in the cars through the State of New York after the battle of

Gettysburg, I fell in conversation with a middle-aged woman who had

two sons in the army.

"Have they been in battle?" I asked.

"Yes, sir; one has been in fifteen battles. He was taken prisoner at

Chancellorsville and was wounded at Gettysburg. The other is in the

Medical Department."

"The one who was wounded at Gettysburg must have seen some hard

fighting."

"Yes, sir; and I hear a good account of him from his captain. He says

my son behaves well. _I told him, when he went away, that I would

rather hear he was dead than that he had disgraced himself._"

"His time must be nearly out."

"Yes, sir, it is; but he is going to see it through, and has

re-enlisted. I should like to have him at home, but I know he would be

uneasy. His comrades have re-enlisted, and he is not the boy to back

out. I rather want him to help give the crushing blow."

There were thousands of such mothers in the land.

Lee retreated the morning after the battle. His reasons for a

retrograde movement are thus stated by himself:--

"Owing to the strength of the enemy's position and the reduction

of our ammunition, a renewal of the engagement could not be

hazarded. and the difficulty of procuring supplies rendered it

impossible to continue longer where we were. Such of the wounded

as were in condition to be removed, and part of the arms

collected on the field, were ordered to Williamsport. The army

remained at Gettysburg during the 4th, and at night began to

retire by the road to Fairfield, carrying with it about four

thousand prisoners. Nearly two thousand had previously been

paroled, but the enemy's numerous wounded, that had fallen into

our hands after the first and second day's engagements, were left

behind."[56]

[Footnote 56: Lee's Report.]

Meade made no attempt to follow him with his main army, but marched

directly down the Emmettsburg road, once more to Frederick, then west

over South Mountain to intercept him on the Potomac. Meade had the

inside of the chess-board. He was a victor. The men who had made a

forced march to Gettysburg were awake to the exigency of the hour, and

made a quick march back to Frederick, and over the mountains to

Boonsboro'. A severe storm set in, and the roads were almost

impassable, but the men toiled on through the mire, lifting the

cannon-wheels from the deep ruts, when the horses were unable to drag

the ordnance, singing songs as they marched foot-sore and weary, but

buoyant over the great victory.

And now, as the intelligence came that Grant had taken Vicksburg, that

Banks was in possession of Port Hudson, and that the Mississippi was

flowing "unvexed to the sea," they forgot all their toils, hardships,

and sufferings, and made the air ring with their lusty cheers. They

could see the dawn of peace,--peace won by the sword. The women of

Maryland hailed them as their deliverers, brought out the best stores

from their pantries and gave freely, refusing compensation.

Meade left all his superfluous baggage behind, and moved in light

marching order. Lee was encumbered by his wounded, and by his trains,

and when he reached Hagerstown found that Meade was descending the

mountain side, and that Gregg was already in Boonsboro'.

Reinforcements were sent to Meade from Washington, with the

expectation that by concentration of all available forces, Lee's army

might be wholly destroyed. The elements, which had often retarded

operations of the Union troops,--which had rendered Burnside's and

Hooker's movements abortive in several instances, now were propitious.

The Potomac was rising, and the rain was still falling. On the morning

of the 13th I rode to General Meade's head-quarters. General Seth

Williams, the ever-courteous Adjutant-General of the army, was in

General Meade's tent. He said that Meade was taking a look at the

Rebels.

"Do you think that Lee can get across the Potomac?" I asked.

"Impossible! The people resident here say that it cannot be forded at

this stage of the water. He has no pontoons. We have got him in a

tight place. We shall have reinforcements to-morrow, and a great

battle will be fought. Lee is encumbered with his teams, and he is

short of ammunition."

General Meade came in dripping with rain, from a reconnoissance. His

countenance was unusually animated. He had ever been courteous to me,

and while usually very reticent of all his intentions or of what was

going on, as an officer should be, yet in this instance he broke over

his habitual silence, and said, "We shall have a great battle

to-morrow. The reinforcements are coming up, and as soon as they come

we shall pitch in."

I rode along the lines with Howard in the afternoon. The Rebels were

in sight. The pickets were firing at each other. There was some

movement of columns.

"I fear that Lee is getting away," said Howard.

He sent an aide to Meade, with a request that he might attack.

"I can double them up," he said, meaning that, as he was on Lee's

flank, he could strike an effective blow.

Kilpatrick was beyond Howard, well up towards Williamsport. "Lee is

getting across the river, I think," said through a messenger.

It was nearly night. The attack was to be made early in the morning.

The morning dawned and Lee was south of the Potomac. That officer

says:--

"The army, after an arduous march, rendered more difficult by the

rains, reached Hagerstown on the afternoon of the 6th and morning

of the 7th July.

"The Potomac was found to be so much swollen by the rains that

had fallen almost incessantly since our entrance into Maryland,

as to be unfordable. Our communications with the south side were

thus interrupted, and it was difficult to procure either

ammunition or subsistence, the latter difficulty being enhanced

by the high waters impeding the working of the neighboring mills.

The trains with the wounded and prisoners were compelled to await

at Williamsport the subsiding of the river and the construction

of boats, as the pontoon bridge, left at Falling Waters, had been

partially destroyed. The enemy had not yet made his appearance;

but, as he was in condition to obtain large reinforcements, and

our situation, for the reasons above mentioned, was becoming

daily more embarrassing, it was deemed advisable to recross the

river. Part of the pontoon bridge was recovered, and new boats

built, so that by the 13th a good bridge was thrown over the

river at Falling Waters.

"The enemy in force reached our front on the 12th. A position had

been previously selected to cover the Potomac from Williamsport

to Falling Waters, and an attack was awaited during that and the

succeeding day. This did not take place, though the two armies

were in close proximity, the enemy being occupied in fortifying

his own lines. Our preparations being completed, and the river,

though still deep, being pronounced fordable, the army commenced

to withdraw to the south side on the night of the 13th.

"Ewell's corps forded the river at Williamsport, those of

Longstreet and Hill crossed upon the bridge. Owing to the

condition of the roads, the troops did not reach the bridge until

after daylight of the 14th, and the crossing was not completed

until 1 P. M., when the bridge was removed. The enemy offered no

serious interruption, and the movement was attended with no loss

of material except a few disabled wagons and two pieces of

artillery, which the horses were unable to move through the deep

mud. Before fresh horses could be sent back for them, the rear of

the column had passed."[57]

[Footnote 57: Lee's Report.]

Kilpatrick was astir at daybreak; he moved into Williamsport. I

accompanied his column. The Rebels were on the Virginia hills,

jubilant at their escape. There were wagons in the river, floating

down with the current, which had been capsized in the crossing.

Kilpatrick pushed on to Falling Waters, fell upon Pettigrew's brigade,

guarding the pontoons, captured two cannon and eight hundred men, in

one of the most daring dashes of the war. It was poor satisfaction,

however, when contrasted with what might have been done. The army was

chagrined. Loud were the denunciations of Meade.

"Another campaign on the Rappahannock, boys," said one officer in my

hearing.

"We shall be in our old quarters in a few days," said another.

General Meade has been severely censured for not attacking on the

13th. Lee had lost thirty thousand men. He had suffered a crushing

defeat at Gettysburg. Enthusiasm had died out. His soldiers were less

confident than they had been. His ammunition was nearly exhausted. He

was in a critical situation.

Those were reasons why he should be attacked; but there were also

reasons, which to Meade were conclusive, that the attack should not be

made till the 14th: the swollen river,--the belief that Lee had no

means of crossing the Potomac,--and the expected reinforcements. The

delay was not from lack of spirit or over caution; but with the

expectation of striking a blow which would destroy the Rebel army.

Lee went up the valley, while Meade pushed rapidly down the base of

the Blue Ridge to Culpepper. But he was not in condition to take the

offensive, so far from his base; and the two armies sat down upon the

banks of the Rapidan, to rest after the bloody campaign.

[Illustration: Regiment at dinner.]

CHAPTER XIX.

FROM THE RAPIDAN TO COLD HARBOR.

[Sidenote: May, 1864.]

There are few months in the calendar of centuries that will have a

more conspicuous place in history than the month of May, 1864. It will

be remembered on account of the momentous events which took place in

one of the greatest military campaigns of history. We are amazed, not

by its magnitude merely, for there have been larger armies, heavier

trains of artillery, greater preparations, in European warfare,--but

by a succession of events unparalleled for rapidity. We cannot fully

comprehend the amount of endurance, the persistency, the hard

marching, the harder fighting, the unwearied, cheerful energy and

effort which carried the Army of the Potomac from the Rappahannock to

the James in forty days, against the stubborn opposition of an army of

almost equal numbers. There was not a day of rest,--scarcely an hour

of quiet. Morning, noon, and midnight, the booming of cannon and the

rattling of musketry echoed unceasingly through the Wilderness, around

the hillocks of Spottsylvania, along the banks of the North Anna, and

among the groves of Bethesda Church and Cold Harbor.

There were individual acts of valor, as heroic and soul-stirring as

those of the old Cavaliers renowned in story and song, where all the

energies of life were centred in one moment. There was the spirited

advance of regiments, the onset of brigades, and the resistless

charges of divisions,--scenes which stir the blood and fire the soul;

the hardihood, the endurance, the cool, collected, reserved force,

abiding the time, the calm facing of death; the swift advance, the

rush, the plunge into the thickest of the fight, where hundreds of

cannon, where fifty thousand muskets, filled the air with iron hail

and leaden rain.

The army wintered between the Rappahannock and the Rapidan. There had

been a reduction and reconstruction of its corps,--an incorporation

of the First and Third with the Fifth and Sixth, with reinforcements

added to the Second. The Second was commanded by Major-General

Hancock, the Fifth by Major-General Warren, the Sixth by Major-General

Sedgwick.

These three corps, with three divisions of cavalry commanded by

General Sheridan, composed the Army of the Potomac, commanded by

Major-General Meade. The Ninth Corps, commanded by Major-General

Burnside, was added when the army took up its line of march.

Lee was behind Mine Run, with his head-quarters at Orange Court-House,

covering the advance to Richmond from that direction.

There was concentration everywhere. General Gillmore, with what troops

could be spared from the Department of the South, joined his forces to

those on the Peninsula and at Suffolk under General Butler; Sigel

commanded several thousand in the Shenandoah; Crook and Averell had a

small army in Western Virginia; at Chattanooga, under Sherman and

Thomas, was gathered a large army of Western troops; while Banks was

up the Red River, moving towards Shreveport.

The _dramatis personae_ were known to the public, but the part assigned

to each was kept profoundly secret. There was discussion and

speculation whether Burnside, from his encampment at Annapolis, would

suddenly take transports and go to Wilmington, or up the Rappahannock,

or the James, or the York. Would Meade move directly across the

Rapidan and attack Lee in front, with every passage, every hill and

ravine enfiladed by Rebel cannon? Or would he move his right flank

along the Blue Ridge, crowding Lee to the seaboard? Would he not make,

rather, a sudden change of base to Fredericksburg? None of the wise

men, military or civil, in their speculations, indicated the line

which General Grant adopted. The public accepted the disaster at

Chancellorsville and the failure at Mine Run as conclusive evidence

that a successful advance across the Rapidan by the middle fords was

impossible, or at least improbable. So well was the secret kept, that,

aside from the corps commanders, none in or out of the army, except

the President and Secretary of War, had information of the line of

march intended.

General Grant had a grand plan,--not merely for the Army of the

Potomac, but for all of the armies in the Union service.

Banks was to take Shreveport, then sail rapidly down the Mississippi

and move upon Mobile, accompanied by the naval force under Farragut.

Sherman was to push Johnston from his position near Chattanooga. If

Banks succeeded at Mobile, he was to move up to Montgomery and

co-operate with Sherman. Such a movement would compel the Rebel

General Johnston to retire from Atlanta. It would sever Alabama and

Mississippi from the other States of the Confederacy.

Butler was to move up the James and seize Richmond, or cut the

railroads south of the Appomattox. Sigel was to pass up the

Shenandoah, while the troops in Western Virginia were to sever the

railroad leading to East Tennessee.

The Army of the Potomac was to move upon Richmond,--or rather upon

Lee's army. The policy of General Grant--the idea upon which he opened

and conducted the campaign--must be fully comprehended before the

events can be clearly understood.

That idea is thus expressed in General Grant's official report:--

"From an early period in the Rebellion I had been impressed with

the idea that active and continuous operations of all the troops

that could be brought into the field, regardless of season and

weather, were necessary to a speedy termination of the war. The

resources of the enemy, and his numerical strength, were far

inferior to ours; but as an offset to this, we had a vast

territory, with a population hostile to the government, to

garrison, and long lines of river and railroad communications to

protect, to enable us to supply the operating armies.

"The armies in the East and West acted independently and without

concert, like a balky team, no two ever pulling together,

enabling the enemy to use to great advantage his interior lines

of communication for transporting troops from east to west,

reinforcing the army most vigorously pressed, and to furlough

large numbers during seasons of inactivity on our part, to go to

their homes, and do the work of producing for the support of

their armies. It was a question whether our numerical strength

and resources were not more than balanced by these disadvantages

and the enemy's superior position.

"From the first, I was firm in the conviction that no peace could

be had that would be stable and conducive to the happiness of the

people, both North and South, until the military power of the

rebellion was entirely broken.

"I therefore determined, first, to use the greatest number of

troops practicable against the armed force of the enemy;

preventing him from using the same force at different seasons

against first one and then another of our armies, and the

possibility of repose for refitting and producing necessary

supplies for carrying on resistance. Second, to hammer

continuously against the armed force of the enemy and his

resources, until, by mere attrition, if in no other way, there

should be nothing left to him but an equal submission with the

loyal section of our common country, to the Constitution and laws

of the land."

The Army of the Potomac had no easy task to perform. Lee had the

advantage of position. The Rapidan was his line. He had improved his

old earthworks and thrown up new ones. His cannon covered the fords.

His army was as large as when he invaded Pennsylvania. Grant must

cross the Rapidan at some point. To attempt and fail would be

disastrous. It was easy to say, Push on! but it was far different to

meet the storm of leaden hail,--far different to see a line waver,

break, and scatter to the rear, with utter loss of heart. Those were

contingencies and possibilities to be taken into account.

It was no light affair to supply an army of one hundred and fifty

thousand men, over a single line of railway,--to accumulate supplies

in advance of the movement,--to cut loose from his base of operations,

and open a new base as occasion should call. Every mile of advance

increased Grant's difficulty, while every mile of retrograde movement

carried Lee nearer to his base of operations.

All the speculations in regard to Burnside's destination fell to the

ground when, on the 25th of April, the Ninth Corps passed through

Washington, and moved into Virginia. It was a sublime spectacle. The

Ninth Corps achieved almost the first successes of the war in North

Carolina. It had hastened to the Potomac in time to aid in rescuing

the capital when Lee made his first Northern invasion. It won glory at

South Mountain, and made the narrow bridge of Antietam forever

historic. It had readied Kentucky in season to aid in driving the

Rebels from that State, and now, with recruited ranks,--with new

regiments of as good blood as ever was poured out in the cause of

right, with a new element which was to make for itself a name never

again to be despised, the corps was marching through the capital of

the nation, passing in review before Abraham Lincoln. The corps

marched down Fourteenth Street past Willard's Hotel, where upon the

balcony stood the President and General Burnside. Behold the scene!

Platoons, companies, battalions, regiments, brigades, and divisions.

The men are bronzed by the rays of a Southern sun, and by the March

winds. The bright sunshine gleams from their bayonets; above them wave

their standards, tattered by the winds, torn by cannon-ball and

rifle-shot,--stained with the blood of dying heroes. They are

priceless treasures, more beloved than houses, land, riches, honor,

ease, comfort, wife or children. Ask them what is most dear of all

earthly things, there will be but one answer,--"The flag! the dear old

flag!" It is their pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day,--the

symbol of everything worth living for, worth dying for!

Their banners bear the names of Bull Run, Ball's Bluff, Roanoke,

Newburn, Gains's Mills, Mechanicsville, Seven Pines, Savage Station,

Glendale, Malvern, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Antietam, South

Mountain, Knoxville, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, Gettysburg, inscribed in

golden characters.

The people of Washington have turned out to see them. Senators have

left their Chamber, and the House of Representatives has taken a

recess to gaze upon the defenders of their country, as they pass

through the city,--many of them, alas! never to return.

There is the steady tramping of the thousands,--the deep, heavy jar of

the gun-carriages,--the clattering of hoofs, the clanking of sabres,

the drum-beat, the bugle-call, and the music of the bands. Pavement,

sidewalk, windows, and roofs are occupied by the people. A division of

veterans pass, saluting the President and their commander with cheers.

And now with full ranks, platoons extending from sidewalk to sidewalk,

are brigades which never have been in battle, for the first time

shouldering arms for their country; who till a year ago never had a

country, who even now are not American citizens, who are

disfranchised,--yet they are going out to fight for the flag! Their

country was given them by the tall, pale, benevolent-hearted man

standing upon the balcony. For the first time they behold their

benefactor. They are darker hued than their veteran comrades; but they

can cheer as lustily, "Hurrah! Hurrah!" "Hurrah for Massa Linkum!"

"Three cheers for the President!" They swing their caps, clap their

hands, and shout their joy. Long, loud, and jubilant are the

rejoicings of those redeemed sons of Africa. Regiment after regiment

of stalwart men,--slaves once, but freemen now,--with steady step and

even rank, pass down the street, moving on to the Old Dominion.

It was the first review of colored troops by the President. He gave

them freedom, he recognized them as soldiers. Their brethren in arms

of the same complexion had been murdered in cold blood, after

surrender, at Port Pillow and at Plymouth. And such would be their

fate should they by chance become prisoners of war.

The time had come for the great movement.

On Tuesday afternoon, May 3d, the cavalry broke camp on the Orange and

Alexandria Railroad, and moved eastward,--General Gregg's division

towards Ely's Ford, and General Wilson's division towards Germanna

Ford, each having pontoons. At midnight the Second Corps, which had

been encamped east of Culpepper, followed General Gregg. At daylight

on the morning of the 4th of May, the Fifth and Sixth Corps and the

reserve artillery were moving towards Germanna Ford. The

supply-train--four thousand wagons--followed the Second Corps. There

were but these two available roads.

The enemy was at Orange Court-House, watching, from his elevated

lookout on Clark's Mountain, for the first sign of change in the Union

camp. In the light of the early dawn he saw that the encampments at

Culpepper were broken up, while the dust-cloud hanging over the forest

toward the east was the sure indication of the movement.

General Lee put his army in instant motion to strike the advancing

columns as they crossed the Rapidan. The movement of Grant was

southeast, that of Lee northeast,--lines of advance which must produce

collision, unless Grant was far enough forward to slip by the angle.

There is reason to believe that General Grant did not intend to fight

Lee at Wilderness, but that it was his design to slip past that point

and swing round by Spottsylvania, and, if possible, get between Lee

and Richmond. He boldly cut loose his connection with Washington, and

plunged into the Wilderness, relying upon the ability of his soldiers

to open a new base for supplies whenever needed.

In this first day's movement he did not uncover Washington. Burnside

was still lying on the north bank of the Rappahannock. It was

understood in the army that the Ninth Corps was to be a reserve to

protect the capital. So, perhaps, Lee understood it. But at nightfall,

on the 4th, the shelter-tents were folded, and the men of the Ninth,

with six days' rations in their haversacks, were on the march along

the forest-road, lighted only by the stars, joining the main army at

Germanna Ford on the morning of the 5th.

The movement from the Rapidan to Cold Harbor was made in thirty days.

It was a series of movements by the left flank, in part to get between

Lee and his southern communications, and in part to force him to

abandon strong positions.

The movements were:--

From Culpepper to Wilderness.

From Wilderness to Spottsylvania.

From Spottsylvania to the North Anna.

From the North Anna to Cold Harbor.

From Cold Harbor to Petersburg.

It was thirty days of continuous marching, or fighting, building

defences and bridges, opening roads, establishing new bases of

supplies, through a country densely wooded, and crossing four large

rivers, besides numerous smaller streams, to find always the enemy

upon the other side, prepared to give desperate battle.

It was early in the morning on the 4th of May when the reveille

sounded for the last time over the hills and dales of Culpepper. The

last cups of coffee were drunk, the blankets folded, and then the

army, which through the winter had lain in camp, moved away from the

log huts, where many a jest had been spoken, many a story

told,--where, through rain and mud, and heat and cold, the faithful

and true-hearted men had kept watch and ward through the long, weary

months,--where songs of praise and prayer to God had been raised by

thousands who looked beyond the present into the future life.

So rapid was the march that the Second Corps reached Chancellorsville

before night, having crossed the Rapidan at Ely's Ford. The Sixth and

Fifth Corps crossed at Germanna Ford, without opposition, and before

night the Army of the Potomac was upon the southern side of that

stream, where it was joined by the Ninth Corps the next morning.

General Grant's quarters for the night were in an old house near the

ford. Lights were to be put out at nine o'clock. There were the usual

scenes of a bivouac, and one unusual to an army. The last beams of

daylight were fading in the west. The drummers were beating the

tattoo. Mingled with the constant rumbling of the wagons across the

pontoons, and the unceasing flow of the river, was a chorus of

voices,--a brigade singing a hymn of devotion. It was the grand old

choral of Luther, Old Hundred.

"Eternal are thy mercies, Lord,

Eternal truth attends thy word;

Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,

Till suns shall rise and set no more."

Many soldiers in that army were thinking of home,--not only of loved

ones, and of associations full of sweet and tender memories, but of a

better abiding-place, eternal in the heavens. To thousands it was a

last night on earth.

Early in the morning of the 5th Generals Meade and Grant, with their

staffs, after riding five miles from Germanna Ford, halted near an old

mill in the Wilderness. General Sheridan's cavalry had been pushing

out south and west. Aides came back with despatches.

"They say that Lee intends to fight us here," said General Meade, as

he read them.

"Very well," was the quiet reply of General Grant.

The two commanders retire a little from the crowd, and stand by the

roadside in earnest conversation. Grant is of medium stature, yet has

a well-developed _physique_, sandy whiskers and moustache, blue eyes,

earnest, thoughtful, and far-seeing, a cigar in his mouth, a knife in

one hand, and a stick in the other, which he is whittling to a point.

He whittles slowly towards him. His thoughts are not yet crystallized.

His words are few. Suddenly he commences upon the other end of the

stick, and whittles energetically from him. And now he is less

reticent,--talks freely. He is dressed in plain blue; and were it not

for the three stars upon his shoulder, few would select him as the

Lieutenant-General commanding all the armies of the Union in the

field.

Meade is tall, thin, a little stooping in the shoulders, quick,

comprehending the situation of affairs in an instant, energetic,--an

officer of excellent executive ability.

Years ago, a turnpike was built from Fredericksburg to Orange

Court-House; but in the days when there was a mania for plank roads,

another corporation constructed a plank road between the same places.

A branch plank road, commencing two miles west of Chancellorsville,

crosses the Rapidan at Germanna Ford, running to Stevensburg, north of

that stream. The turnpike runs nearly east and west, while the

Stevensburg plank road runs northwest. General Grant has established

his head-quarters at the crossing of the turnpike and the Stevensburg

road, his flag waving from a knoll west of the road. A mile and a half

out on the turnpike, on a ridge, is Parker's store, where, early in

the morning, I saw long lines of Rebel infantry, the sunlight gleaming

from bayonet and gun-barrel.

Before the contest begins, let us go up to the old Wilderness tavern,

which stands on the Stevensburg plank road, and take a view of a

portion of the battle-field. It will be a limited view, for there are

few open spaces in the Wilderness.

From the tavern you look west. At your feet is a brook, flowing from

the southwest, and another small stream from the northwest, joining

their waters at the crossing of the turnpike and the plank road. The

turnpike rises over a ridge between the two streams. On the south

slope is the house of Major Lacy, owner of a house at Falmouth, used

by our soldiers after the battle of Fredericksburg. It is a beautiful

view,--a smooth lawn in front of the house, meadows green with the

verdure of spring; beyond the meadows are hills thickly wooded,--tall

oaks, and pine and cedar thickets. On the right hand side of the

turnpike the ridge is more broken, and also thickly set with small

trees and bushes. A mile and a half out from the crossing of the two

roads the ridge breaks down into a ravine. General Lee has possession

of the western bank, Grant the eastern. It is such a mixture of woods,

underbrush, thickets, ravines, hills, hollows, and knolls, that one is

bewildered in passing through it, and to attempt to describe would be

a complete bewilderment to writer and reader.

But General Grant has been compelled to make this ridge his right line

of battle. He must protect his trains, which are still coming in on

the Germanna road.

The Sixth Corps, commanded by General Sedgwick, holds the right,

covering the road to Germanna Ford. The left of the Third Division

reaches the turnpike, where it connects with the Fifth Corps,

Warren's. Before the arrival of Burnside's force, one division of the

Fifth is placed in position south of the turnpike. Now leaving a wide

gap, you walk through the woods towards the southeast, and two miles

from head-quarters you find the Second Corps, under Hancock, a long

line of men in the thick forest, on both sides of the Orange plank

road.

The forenoon of the 5th instant was devoted to taking positions.

Engineers rode over the ground and examined the character of the

country. A small party pushed out to Parker's store, but encountered a

Rebel column advancing; but the knowledge thus obtained of the ground

in that direction was of great value.

Word was sent to General Hancock, who had orders to move in direction

of Spottsylvania; that Lee was taking positions. He hastened to make

connection with the other corps. Had he not moved rapidly, Lee would

have obtained possession of the fork of the two plank roads, the

Stevensburg and the Orange road, which would have been a serious

mishap. The Rebel advance was not more than a mile distant when

Hancock secured it. No sooner had the pickets been thrown out, than

the rattling of musketry commenced all along the line. About four in

the afternoon, each commander began to feel the position of the other

by advancing brigades on the right, left, and centre. An exchange of a

few volleys would seemingly satisfy the parties.

It had been the practice of General Lee to begin and close a day with

a grand fusilade. In this battle he adhered to his former tactics, by

advancing a heavy force upon our right, and then, when the contest was

at its height in that direction, attacked on the left. The rolls of

musketry were very heavy and continuous for an hour. There was but

little opportunity to charge bayonet. It was a close contest in a

thick wood, on land which years ago was turned by the plough, but

which, having by thriftless culture incident to the existence of

servile labor, been worn out, now bears the smallest oaks, hazels,

sassafras, and briers.

Hostilities ceased at night. Each commander learned enough of the

other's operations to make dispositions for the following day. Grant

had no alterations to make. Lee had forced him to accept battle there,

and he must do the best he could. Longstreet arrived in the night, and

was placed against Hancock, on the Rebel right, or rather on the right

centre, overlapping the Second and coming against a portion of the

Ninth Corps, which was assigned to the left centre. Thus these two

corps and their two commanders met again in deadly conflict, having

fought at the first and second Bull Run, South Mountain, Antietam, and

Knoxville.

General Alexis Hays, in the front line, finding that he was

outnumbered, sent word to Hancock that he must have reinforcements.

"Tell him," said Hancock to the aide, "that he shall have a fresh

brigade in twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes! An age to those who see their comrades falling,--their

lines growing thinner. Before the time had expired, General Hays was

carried back a corpse; but though the brave man had fallen, the troops

held their ground.

Night closed over the scene. Everybody knew that the contest would be

renewed in the morning. Lee began the attack on the 5th, falling like

a thunderbolt on the flank of Grant, but made no impression on the

Union lines,--not moving them an inch from their chosen positions.

Grant resolved to take the initiative on the morning of the 6th, and

orders were accordingly issued for a general attack at daybreak.

Sedgwick was to commence on the right at five o'clock, but Lee saved

him the trouble. A. P. Hill forestalled the movement by advancing at

half past four. The Rebel batteries by Parker's store sent a

half-dozen shots into the Union lines as a signal for the beginning of

the contest. Then came a slight ripple of musketry, then a

roll,--long, deep, heavy,--and the crash,--indescribable, fearful to

hear, terrible to think of. Fifty thousand muskets were flashing, with

occasional cannon-shots, mingled with shouts, cheers, and hurrahs from

the Union lines, and yells like the war-whoop of Indians,--wild,

savage howls from the depths of the tangled jungle. The sun rises upon

a cloudless sky. The air becomes sultry. The blood of the combatants

is at fever heat. There are bayonet-charges, surgings to and fro of

the opposing lines, a meeting and commingling, like waves of the

ocean, sudden upspringings from the underbrush of divisions stealthily

advanced. There is a continuous rattle, with intervening rolls

deepening into long, heavy swells, the crescendo and the diminuendo of

a terrible symphony, rising to thunder-tones, to crash and roar

indescribable.

The Ninth Corps during the day was brought between the Fifth and

Second. Divisions were moved to the right, to the left, and to the

centre, during the two days' fight, but the positions of the corps

remained unchanged, and stood as represented in the diagram.

[Illustration: Wilderness.]

Through all those long hours of conflict there was patient endurance

in front of the enemy. There were temporary successes and reverses on

both sides. In only a single instance was there permanent advantage to

Lee, and that he had not the power to improve. It was at the close of

the contest on the 6th. The sun had gone down, and twilight was

deepening into night. The wearied men of Rickett's division of the

Sixth Corps, in the front line of battle on the right, had thrown

themselves upon the ground. Suddenly there was a rush upon their

flank. There was musketry, blinding flashes from cannon, and

explosions of shells. The line which had stood firmly through the day

gave way, not because it was overpowered, but because it was

surprised. General Seymour and a portion of his brigade were taken

prisoners. There was a partial panic, which soon subsided. The second

line remained firm, the enemy was driven back, and the disaster

repaired by swinging the Sixth Corps round to a new position, covered

by the reserve artillery.

On the morning of the 7th the pickets reported that Lee had fallen

back. Reconnoitring parties said that he was throwing up

entrenchments. Grant was thoughtful through the day. He said but

little. He had a cigar in his mouth from morning till night. I saw him

many times during the day, deeply absorbed in thought. He rode along

the centre, and examined the Rebel lines towards Parker's store. At

times a shell or solid shot came from the Rebel batteries through the

thick forest growth, but other than this there was but little

fighting. Grant determined to make a push for Spottsylvania, and put

his army between Lee and Richmond. By noon the trains were in motion,

having been preceded by Sheridan with the cavalry, followed by the

Ninth Corps, and then the Fifth on a parallel road. But Lee had the

shortest line. He was on the alert, and there was a simultaneous

movement of the Rebel army on a shorter line.

The Second, Fifth, and Sixth Corps took the Block road, while the

Ninth, with the trains, moved by Chancellorsville, over the

battle-ground of the preceding summer, where the bones of those who

fell in that struggle were bleaching unburied in the summer air.

It was eleven P. M. on Saturday evening, May 7th, when Generals Grant

and Meade, accompanied by their cavalry escorts, left the Wilderness

head-quarters of General Hancock for a ride to Todd's Tavern, a place

of two or three houses, exhibiting the usual degree of thriftlessness

which characterized the Old Dominion. Twice during the ride we ran

into the Rebel pickets, and were compelled to take by-paths through

fields and thickets. General Grant rode at a break-neck speed. How

exciting! The sudden flashing of Rebel muskets in front, the whiz of

the minnie projectile over our heads, the quick halt and right about

face,--our horses stumbling over fallen timber and stumps, the

clanking of sabres, the clattering of hoofs, the plunge into brambles,

the tension of every nerve, the strain upon all the senses, the

feeling of relief when we are once more in the road, and then the

gallop along the narrow way, beneath the dark pines of the forest,

till brought to a halt by the sudden challenge from our own sentinel!

It is a fast life that one leads at such a time. When the reaction

sets in the system is as limp as a wilted cabbage-leaf.

"Where are you going?" was the question of a cavalryman as we halted a

moment.

"To Spottsylvania."

"I reckon you will have a scrimmage before you get there," said he.

"Why?"

"Well, nothing in particular, except there are forty or fifty thousand

Rebs in front of you. Sheridan has had a tough time of it, and I

reckon there is more work to be done."

We pushed on and reached Todd's at one o'clock on Sunday morning. The

roads were full of cavalry, also the fields and woods. Sheridan had

been fighting several hours, with Fitz Lee. The wounded were being

brought in. Surgeons were at work. In the field, a short distance from

the spot, the pickets were still firing shots. The Rebels were

retiring, and Sheridan's men, having won the field, were throwing

themselves upon the ground and dropping off to sleep as unconcernedly

as when seeking rest in the calm repose and silence of their

far-distant homes.

Fastening our horses to the front-yard fence of Todd's, making a

pillow of our saddles, wrenching off the palings for a bed to keep our

bones from the ground, wrapping our blankets around us, we were sound

asleep in three minutes, undisturbed by the tramping of the passing

troops, the jar of the artillery, the rumble of the ammunition wagons,

the shouts of the soldiers, the shrieks of the wounded, and groans of

the dying.

At sunrise the head-quarters of the army were removed to Piney Grove

Church. No bell called the worshippers of the parish to its portal on

that Sabbath morning, but other tones were vibrating the air. The

Fifth Corps had come in collision with the Rebels, and while the

rear-guard of the army were firing their last shots in the Wilderness,

the cannonade was reopening at Spottsylvania.

The day was intensely hot. I was wearied by the events of the

week,--the hard riding, the want of sleep, the series of battles,--and

instead of riding out to the field, enjoyed luxurious repose beneath

the apple-trees, fragrant with blossoms, and listened to the strange

Sabbath symphony, the humming of bees, the songs of the birds, the

roll of musketry, and the cannonade.

The second division, Robinson's, and the fourth, Cutler's (after the

loss of Wadsworth, killed at the Wilderness), were engaged. Baxter's

brigade of Robinson's division was thrown forward to ascertain the

position of the enemy. Their advance brought on the battle. The Sixth

Corps was moved to the left of Warren's on the Piney Church road, and

was placed in supporting distance. In this first engagement Robinson

was badly wounded in the leg.

The Second Corps having filed through the woods, after a hot and dusty

march, came up behind the Fifth and Sixth. I took a ride along the

lines late in the afternoon. The Fifth was moving slowly forward over

undulations and through pine thickets,--a long line of men in blue,

picking their way, now through dense underbrush, in a forest of

moaning pines, now stepping over a sluggish stream, with briers,

hazel, thorn-bushes, and alders impeding every step, and now emerging

into an old field where the thriftless farmers had turned the shallow

soil for spring planting.

There had been a lull in the cannonade, but it commenced again. It was

as before, a spirited contest, which lasted half an hour. Warren

pressed steadily on and drove the Rebels from their advanced position,

forcing them to retire across the creek, but losing several hundred

men before he dislodged them.

Reaching an opening in the forest, I came upon Hart's plantation, a

collection of negro huts and farm buildings,--a lovely spot, where the

spring wheat was already rolling in green waves in the passing breeze.

Looking south over Po Creek, I could see the Catharpen road lined with

horse and footmen, and could hear in the intervals of silence the

rumble of wagons. A cloud of dust rose above the forest. Were the

Rebels retreating, or were they receiving reinforcements? General

Grant came down and looked at them. The Rebel artillerists near the

court-house must have discovered us, for a half-dozen cannon-shot came

ringing through the air, plunging into the newly ploughed cornfield

and the clover-land, knee deep with luxuriant grass.

On Monday morning it was found that Lee's whole army was at

Spottsylvania; and as our skirmishers were deployed to ascertain the

position of the enemy, it was discovered that Rebels occupied all the

ground in front. General Grant did not at first think Lee would make a

detour of his whole force from a direct line to Richmond; he thought

it must be only detachments of men which had been thrown in his way;

but when he discovered what Lee's intentions were, he prepared to

accept battle. Word was sent to General Burnside to take position on

the extreme left. The Second Corps, which had been in rear of the

Fifth, was swung to the right, while the Sixth was deflected toward

the Ninth. While these dispositions were being made, the skirmishing

and cannonade were never intermitted for an instant. A pontoon train

was sent around to the right, to be used by Hancock. A battery was

placed in position at Hart's plantation, and its rifle shot and shells

interrupted the tide of travel on the Catharpen road. Riding down to

the front of Hancock's corps, I found Birney, who with the Third

Division held the extreme right, and had already pushed far over

toward the Catharpen road.

Gibbon's division was in the centre, and Barlow's was on the left,

occupying, in part, ground which the Fifth had held the night

previous. It was nearly night, and the conflict was deepening. The day

had been intensely hot, but, as the coolness of evening came on, both

parties addressed themselves to the encounter. Barlow marched over

undulating pasture-lands, through fringes of forest, into a meadow,

across it, and into the dark pines beyond. Taking a favorable stand

near a deserted farm-house, by the Piney Church road, I could see the

dark lines move steadily on. Below me, on a hillock, were Hancock and

staff directing movements. A half-dozen batteries were in position

close by. One--the Third Massachusetts--was sending its shells over

the heads of our men into the woods beyond the meadow. Mounting the

breastworks which had been thrown up at this spot, I could see the

orchard where the Rebel riflemen were lying. There was the sharp,

shrill ringing of the minnie bullets whistling through the air, and at

times a lurid sheet of flame from a brigade pouring in its volleys.

There was the flash, the cloud of dust wherever the ragged iron tore

its way, and the deafening report. I gladly availed myself of whatever

protection the breastwork afforded, although a solid shot would have

passed through the slight embankment as readily as a stone could be

hurled through chaff. The chances were as one to several thousand of

my being hit, but it is the one chance which makes a person wish he

were somewhere else. The Second Corps was smartly assailed, but stood

their ground and became assailants in turn,--not because they obeyed

orders, but from the impulse of the men, who needed no urging. It was

a remarkable feature. The men in that contest fought because they

wanted to. Gibbons and Birney swung like a double-hinged door upon

Longstreet's left flank and obtained possession of the ground which

the Rebels occupied at the beginning of the engagement.

It became evident on Tuesday morning that General Lee had chosen

Spottsylvania as a place for a trial of strength. Preparations were

accordingly made for the work. General Grant's wounded impeded his

movements. He decided to send them to Fredericksburg. All who could

walk were started on foot. Those who could not, but who did not need

ambulances, were placed in empty wagons. The long procession took its

winding way, and other thousands of mangled forms were brought in to

fill the empty places. It was a sad sight. It made me sick at heart,

and weary of war, and how much more sick and weary when I thought of

the great iniquity which had caused it.

At daybreak the cannonade recommenced, Grant's guns coming first into

play. The Rebels for a while remained in silent indifference; but as

continued teasing rouses a wild beast's anger, so at length they

replied.

The air was calm, and the reverberation rolled far over the forest.

There was constant skirmishing through the forenoon. General Grant

rode along the lines, inspected the position, and issued orders for a

general advance at five o'clock; but Lee took the initiative, and

through the afternoon the battle raged with exceeding fierceness.

There was nothing at Spottsylvania worthy of contention,--no

mountain-pass or deep-running river; but General Grant being on his

way to Richmond, his adversary, like Apollyon assaulting Christian,

had come out to meet him on that spot. Lee had the advantage of

position and was able to concentrate his forces. It was about one

o'clock when Longstreet began to press Hancock. There was a hot

engagement for an hour, principally by Birney's division; but failing

to move Birney, an attempt was made to pry open still wider the joint

between the Second and Fifth Corps.

The relative positions of the two armies will be seen from the

following diagram.

[Illustration: Spottsylvania.]

The battle was fought in the forest,--in the marshes along the

Ny,--in ravines,--in pine-thickets densely shaded with the dark

evergreens that shut out the rays of the noonday sun,--in open fields,

where Rebel batteries had full sweep and play--with shell, and grape,

and canister--from intrenched positions on the hills.

During a lull in the strife I visited the hospitals. Suddenly the

battle recommenced in greater fury. The wounded began to come in at a

fearful rate. The battle was drawing nearer. Shells were streaming

past the hospitals. There were signs of disaster.

"Are they driving us?" was the eager inquiry of the wounded.

While the storm was at its height, a stalwart soldier who had just

risen from the amputating-table, where his left arm, torn to shreds by

a cannon-shot, had been severed above the elbow, leaning against the

tent-pole, sang the song he often had sung in camp,--

"The Union forever! Hurrah, boys! hurrah!

Down with the traitor, up with the star;

While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again,

Shouting the battle-cry of Freedom!"

His wounded comrades heard it, and joined in the chorus, raising their

arms, swinging their caps, and cheering the flag they loved. It is one

of memory's fadeless pictures. Is it a wonder that the recollection of

that scene sometimes fills my eyes with tears?

The contest all along the line was terrific. Even now, over all the

intervening time and distance, I seem to hear the unceasing rattle and

roll of musketry and cannon, the cheer of the combatants, the tramping

of horses, the explosion of shells, the shriek of the rifled

projectile, the crash through the trees. It goes on hour after hour.

The ranks are thinning. The men with stretchers bring in their

bleeding burdens, and lay them gently upon the ground.

It is past seven o'clock. The shades of evening are falling. The

hillside in front of the Sixth Corps is aflame. While the uproar is

wildest there is a cheer, sharper and louder than the din of the

conflict. It is not the savage war-cry of the enemy, but a buoyant

shout. Into the storm sweeps the Vermont brigade, with bayonets firmly

set, leaping over the Rebel works, and gathering hundreds of prisoners

from Dale's brigade of Rebels. Ewell poured in reinforcements to

strengthen his line and regain his lost work, which was stubbornly

held by the Second Vermont. Far in advance of the main line lay that

regiment, pouring a deadly fire upon the enemy. General Wright (in

command after Sedgwick's death) sent to have the regiment withdrawn.

"We don't want to go back! Give us rations and ammunition, and we'll

hold it for six months if you want us to," was the reply.

General Wright rode to General Grant. "What shall I do?" he asked.

"Pile in the men and hold it!" was the answer.

General Wright returned, but meanwhile a subordinate officer had

ordered them to retire. They were loath to give up what they had won

so gloriously.

General Rice, commanding a brigade in the Fifth Corps, was wounded,

and borne to the rear. The surgeon laid down his knife after removing

the shattered limb, and stood beside him to soothe with tender words

in the last dread hour which was coming on apace. The sufferer could

hear the swelling tide of battle, the deepening rolls like waves upon

the ocean shore. His eyes were closing. He was approaching that ocean

which has no shore. His pain was intense.

"Turn me over," said he, faintly.

"Which way?"

"Let me die with my face to the enemy!"

They were his last words. A short struggle and all was ended. A

Christian patriot had finished his work on earth, and was numbered

with the heroic dead.

The early dawn of Thursday, the 12th, beheld the Second Corps in

motion,--not to flank the enemy, but moving, with fixed bayonets,

straight on towards his intrenchments. Barlow's and Birney's

divisions in columns of battalions, doubled on the centre, to give

strength and firmness, led the assault. They move silently through

the forest,--through the ravine in front of them, up to their own

skirmish-line,--past it,--no longer marching, but running

now,--dashing on with enthusiasm thrilling every nerve. They sweep

away the Rebel picket-line as if it were a cobweb. On! into the

intrenchments with a hurrah which startles the soldiers of both

armies from their morning slumbers. Major-General Johnson and

Brigadier-General Stewart, and three thousand men of Ewell's

division are taken prisoners, eighteen cannon, and twenty-two

standards captured.

It was the work of five minutes,--as sudden as the swoop of an eagle.

Then the uproar of the day began. The second line of the enemy's works

was assaulted; but, exasperated by their losses, the Rebels fought

fiercely. The Ninth Corps was moved up from the left to support the

Second. Longstreet, on the other hand, was brought over to help Ewell.

The Fifth and Sixth became partially engaged. There were charges and

counter-charges. Positions were gained and lost. From morning till

night the contest raged on the right, in the centre, and on the left,

swaying to and fro over the undulations and through the ravines. It

was a battle of fourteen hours' duration,--in severity, in unflinching

determination, in obstinacy, not exceeded by any during the war.

Between forty and fifty pieces of artillery were at one time in the

hands of General Hancock; but owing to the difficulties of removal,

and the efforts of the enemy, he could secure only eighteen. During

the day Grant advanced his lines a mile towards the court-house, and

repulsed Lee in all his counter-attacks.

During the lull in the strife at Spottsylvania I spent a day in

Fredericksburg, visiting the hospitals.

The city is a vast hospital; churches, public buildings, private

dwellings, stores, chambers, attics, basements, all full. There are

thousands upon the sidewalk. All day long the ambulances have been

arriving from the field. There are but few wounded left at the front,

those only whom to remove would be certain death.

[Illustration: The sanitary commission in the hospital.]

A red flag has been flung out at the Sanitary Commission rooms,--a

white one at the rooms of the Christian Commission. There are three

hundred volunteer nurses in attendance. The Sanitary Commission have

fourteen wagons bringing supplies from Belle Plain. The Christian

Commission has less transportation facilities, but in devotion, in

hard work, in patient effort, it is the compeer of its more

bountifully supplied neighbor. The nurses are divided into details,

some for day service, some for night work. Each State has its Relief

Committee.

How patient the brave fellows are! Not a word of complaint, but thanks

for the slightest favor. There was a lack of crutches. I saw an old

soldier of the California regiment, who fought with the lamented Baker

at Ball's Bluff, and who had been in more than twenty battles,

hobbling about with the arms of a settee nailed to strips of board.

His regiment was on its way home, its three years of service having

expired. It was reduced to a score or two of weather-beaten,

battle-scarred veterans. The disabled comrade could hardly keep back

the tears as he saw them pass down the street. "Few of us left. The

bones of the boys are on every battle-field where the Army of the

Potomac has fought," said he.

There was the sound of the pick and spade in the churchyard, a

heaving-up of new earth,--a digging of trenches, not for defence

against the enemy, but for the last resting-place of departed heroes.

There they lie, each wrapped in his blanket, the last bivouac! For

them there is no more war,--no charges into the thick, leaden

rain-drops,--no more hurrahs, no more cheering for the dear old flag!

They have fallen, but the victory is theirs,--theirs the roll of

eternal honor. Side by side,--men from Massachusetts, from

Pennsylvania, and from Wisconsin,--from all the States, resting in one

common grave. Peace to them! blessings on the dear ones,--wives,

mothers, children whom they have left behind.

Go into the hospitals;--armless, legless men, wounds of every

description. Men on the floor, on the hard seats of church-pews, lying

in one position all day, unable to move till the nurse, going the

rounds, gives them aid. They must wait till their food comes. Some

must be fed with a spoon, for they are as helpless as little children.

"O that we could get some straw for the brave fellows," said the Rev.

Mr. Kimball, of the Christian Commission. He had wandered about town,

searching for the article.

"There is none to be had. We shall have to send to Washington for

it," said the surgeon in charge.

"Straw! I remember two stacks, four miles out on the Spottsylvania

road. I saw them last night as I galloped in from the front."

Armed with a requisition from the Provost Marshal to seize two stacks

of straw, with two wagons driven by freedmen, accompanied by four

Christian Commission delegates, away we went across the battle-field

of December, fording Hazel Run, gaining the heights, and reaching the

straw stacks owned by Rev. Mr. Owen, a bitter Rebel.

"By whose authority do you take my property?"

"The Provost Marshal, sir."

"Are you going to pay me for it?"

"You must see the Provost Marshal, sir. If you are a loyal man, and

will take the oath of allegiance, doubtless you will get your pay when

we have put down the Rebellion."

"It is pretty hard. My children are just ready to starve. I have

nothing for them to eat, and you come to take my property without

paying for it."

"Yes, sir, war is hard. You must remember, sir, that there are

thousands of wounded men,--your Rebel wounded as well as ours. If your

children are on the point of starving, those men are on the point of

dying. We must have the straw for them. What we don't take to-night we

will get in the morning. Meanwhile, sir, if anybody attempts to take

it, please say to them that it is for the hospital, and they can't

have it."

Thus with wagons stuffed, we leave Rev. Mr. Owen and return to make

glad the hearts of several thousand men. O how they thank us!

"Did you get it for me? God bless you, sir."

It is evening. Thousands of soldiers just arrived from Washington have

passed through the town to take their places in the front. The hills

around are white with innumerable tents.

A band is playing lively airs to cheer the wounded in the hospitals. I

have been looking in to see the sufferers. Two or three have gone to

their long home. They will need no more attention. A surgeon is at

work upon a ghastly wound, taking up the arteries. An attendant is

pouring cold water upon a swollen limb. In the Episcopal church a

nurse is bolstering up a wounded officer in the area behind the

altar. Men are lying in the pews, on the seats, on the floor, on

boards on top of the pews.

Two candles in the spacious building throw their feeble rays into the

dark recesses, faintly disclosing the recumbent forms. There is heavy,

stifled breathing, as of constant effort to suppress cries extorted by

acutest pain.

Passing into the street you see a group of women, talking about _our_

wounded,--Rebel wounded, who are receiving their especial devotion.

The Provost Marshal's patrol is going its rounds to preserve order.

Starting down the street, you reach the rooms of the Christian

Commission. Some of the men are writing letters for the soldiers, some

eating their night-rations, some dispensing supplies. Passing through

the rooms, you gain the grounds in the rear,--a beautiful garden

once,--not unattractive now. The air is redolent with honeysuckle and

locust blossoms. The prunifolia is unfolding its delicate milk-white

petals; roses are opening their tinted leaves.

Fifty men are gathered round a summer-house,--warm-hearted men, who

have been all day in the hospitals. Their hearts have been wrung by

the scenes of suffering, in the exercise of Christian charity,

imitating the example of the Redeemer of men. They have dispensed food

for the body and nourishment for the soul. They have given cups of

cold water in the name of Jesus, and prayed with those departing to

the Silent Land. The moonlight shimmers through the leaves of the

locusts, as they meet at that evening hour to worship God

The little congregation breaks into singing,--

"Come, thou fount of every blessing."

After the hymn, a chaplain says, "Brethren, I had service this

afternoon in the First Division hospital of the Second Corps. The

surgeon in charge, before prayer, asked all who desired to be prayed

for to raise their hands, and nearly every man who had a hand raised

it. Let us remember them in our prayers to-night."

A man in the summer-house, so far off that I cannot distinguish him,

says,--

"Every man in the Second Division of the Sixth Corps hospital raised

his hand for prayers to-night."

There are earnest supplications that God will bless them; that they

may have patience; that Jesus will pillow their heads upon his breast,

relieve their sufferings, soothe their sorrows, wipe away all their

tears, heal their wounds; that he will remember the widow and the

fatherless, far away, moaning for the loved and lost.

Another hymn,--

"Jesus, lover of my soul,

Let me to thy bosom fly,"

and the delegates return to their work of mercy.

At Spottsylvania there were constant skirmishing and artillery-firing

through the 13th, and a moving of the army from the north to the east

of the Court-House. A rain-storm set in. The roads became heavy, and a

contemplated movement--a sudden flank attack--was necessarily

abandoned.

There was a severe skirmish on the 14th, incessant picket-firing on

the 15th, and on the 16th another engagement all along the line,--not

fought with the fierceness of that of the 12th, but lasting through

the forenoon, and resulting in the taking of a line of rifle-pits from

the enemy.

On Wednesday, the 18th, there was an assault upon Lee's outer line of

works. Two lines of rifle-pits were carried; but an impassable abatis

prevented farther advance, and after a six hours' struggle the troops

were withdrawn.

On the afternoon of the 19th Ewell gained the rear of Grant's right

flank, and came suddenly upon Tyler's division of heavy artillery,

armed as infantry, just arrived upon the field. Though surprised, they

held the enemy in check, forced him back, and with aid from the Second

Corps compelled him to retreat with great loss. This attack was made

to cover Lee's withdrawal to the North Anna. His troops were already

on the march.

Grant was swift to follow.

It is a two days' march from Spottsylvania to the North Anna. The

crossings of the Mattapony were held by Rebel cavalry, which was

quickly driven. Then came the gallant crossing of the Fifth Corps at

Jericho Ford, the irresistible charge of Birney and Barlow of the

Second Corps at Taylor's Bridge, the sweeping-in of five hundred

prisoners, the severe engagements lasting three days,--all memorable

events, worthy of prominence in a full history of the campaign.

[Illustration: North Anna.]

The North Anna is a rapid stream, with high banks. East of Taylor's

bridge, towards Sexton's Junction, there is an extensive swamp, but

westward the country is rolling. It was supposed that Lee would make a

stubborn resistance at the crossings, but at Jericho Warren found only

a few pickets upon the southern bank. A pontoon was laid and two

divisions sent over; but moving towards the railroad a mile, they

encountered Hood's and Pickett's divisions of Ewell's corps. The

cannonade was heavy and the musketry sharp, mainly between Cutler's

command and Ewell's, lasting till dark.

It is about two miles from Jericho crossing to the railroad, the point

for which the right wing was aiming.

"I reckon that our troops didn't expect you to come this way," said

Mr. Quarles, a citizen residing on the north bank, with whom I found

accommodation for the night.

"I suppose you didn't expect Grant to get this side of the

Wilderness?"

"We heard that he was retreating towards Fredericksburg," was the

response.

He was the owner of a saw-mill. Timber was wanted for the construction

of a bridge. His mill was out of repair, but there were men in the

Union army accustomed to run saw-mills, and an hour was sufficient to

put the machinery in order for the manufacture of lumber. It was

amusing to see the soldiers lay down their guns, take up the crowbar,

roll the logs into the mill, adjust the saw, hoist the gate, and sit

upon the log while the saw was cutting its way. The owner of the mill

looked on in disgust, as his lumber was thus freely handled.

In the first advance from Jericho bridge, the force was repulsed. The

Rebels of Ewell's command came on with confidence, to drive the

retreating troops into the river; but Warren had taken the precaution

to place his smooth-bore guns on a hillock, south of the stream, while

his rifled pieces were on the north side, in position, to give a

cross-fire with the smooth-bores. When the Rebels came within reach of

this concentrated fire they were almost instantly checked. It was no

time to rush on, or to stand still and deliberate; they fled,

uncovering the railroad, to which the Sixth advanced, tearing up the

track and burning the depot. In the centre, the Ninth Corps had a

severe fight, resulting in considerable loss.

It is two miles from Jericho bridge to Carmel Church, which stands in

a beautiful grove of oaks. While the troops were resting beneath the

trees, waiting for the order to move, a chaplain entered the church

and proposed to hold religious service.

The soldiers manifested their pleasure, kneeled reverently during the

prayer, and listened with tearful eyes to the exhortations which

followed.

It was inspiring to hear them sing,

"Come, sing to me of heaven,

When I'm about to die;

Sing songs of holy ecstasy,

To waft my soul on high."

At dark on the evening of the 25th of May, I rode along the lines of

the Second Corps to take a look at the Rebels. There was a steady fire

of artillery. One battery of the Rebels had full sweep of the plain,

and the shells were flying merrily. A thunder-storm was rising. The

lightning was vivid and incessant. My head-quarters for the night were

to be with a surgeon attached to the First Division of the Ninth

Corps, several miles distant. The dense black clouds rising in the

west made the night intensely dark, except when the lightning-flashes

gleamed along the sky. It was a scene of sublime grandeur: heaven's

artillery in play,--the heavy peals of thunder, mingling with the roar

of the battle-field! After an hour's ride through pine thickets,

over old corn-fields, half-blinded by the lightning, I reached the

quarters of my friend the surgeon, whose tent was just then being

packed into the wagon for a night march to a new position. The storm

was close at hand, and together we fled for shelter to a neighboring

cabin. I had barely time to fasten my horse and enter the door before

the storm was upon us.

[Illustration: Bayonet charge.]

The house was built of logs, chinked with mud, contained two rooms

about fifteen feet square, and was occupied by a colored family.

Others had fled for shelter to the hospitable roof. I found

congregated there for the night nine surgeons, three hospital nurses,

a delegate of the Christian Commission, two soldiers, two colored

women, a colored man, three children. The colored people had taken

their only pig into the house, to save the animal from being killed by

the soldiers, and had tied it to the bed-post. Their poultry--half a

dozen fowls--was imprisoned under a basket. The rain fell in torrents

throughout the night. Finding a place under the table for my head,

with my overcoat for a pillow, and thrusting my legs under the bed

which was occupied by three surgeons, I passed the night, and thought

myself much more highly favored than the forty or fifty who came to

the door, but only to find a full hotel.

Instead of trying to walk over the obstacle in his path, Grant decided

to go round it. Stealing a march upon Lee, he moved suddenly

southeast, crossed the Pamunkey at Hanover Town, opened a new base of

supplies at White House, forcing Lee to fall back on the Chickahominy.

On Sunday, the 29th, a great cavalry engagement took place at Hawes's

shop, west of Hanover Town, in which Sheridan drove the Rebels back

upon Bethesda Church. The army came into position on the 30th, its

right towards Hanover Court-House. Lee was already in position, and

during the day there was firing all along the line. All the corps were

engaged. The Second Corps by the Shelton House, by a bayonet-charge

pushed the enemy from the outer line of works which he had thrown up,

while the Fifth Corps rolled back, with terrible slaughter, the mass

of men which came upon its flank and front at Bethesda Church. At Cold

Harbor, the Sixth, joined by the Eighteenth Army Corps, under

Major-General W. F. Smith, from Bermuda Hundred, met Longstreet and

Breckenridge, and troops from Beauregard. Sheridan had seized this

important point,--important because of the junction of roads,--and

held it against cavalry and infantry till the arrival of the Fifth and

Eighteenth. The point secured, a new line of battle was formed on the

1st of June. The Ninth held the right of Bethesda Church; the Fifth

was south of the church, joining the Eighteenth; the Sixth held the

road from Cold Harbor to Gaines's Mills; while the Second was thrown

out on the left, on the road leading to Despatch Station and the

Chickahominy.

[Sidenote: June, 1864.]

In the campaign of 1862, Cold Harbor was General McClellan's

head-quarters while he was on the north bank of the Chickahominy, and

Jackson, when he advanced to attack Fitz John Porter, marched down the

road over which Grant moved, to that locality. It is a place of one

house,--an old tavern standing at a crossing of roads, twelve miles

from Richmond. The most direct route to the city runs past Gaines's

Mills, where the first of the series of battles was fought before

Richmond, in the seven days' contest. Jackson's head-quarters were at

Cold Harbor during that engagement.

The general position of the two armies in Grant's battles at Cold

Harbor is indicated by the accompanying diagram.

[Illustration: Cold Harbor.]

A huge catalpa stands in front of the old tavern, where in the

peaceful days of the Old Dominion travellers rested their horses

beneath the grateful shade, while they drank their toddy at the tavern

bar. Two great battles were fought there by Grant, the first in the

evening of the 1st of June, the second on the evening of the 3d.

There is a line of breastworks west of the house, a few rods distant,

behind which Russell's division of the Sixth Corps is lying. The road

to Despatch Station runs due south; the road to New Cold Harbor

southwest, the road to Bethesda Church northwest. In the battle fought

on the 1st instant, Neil was east of the road leading to Despatch

Station, Russell west of the house, and Ricketts northwest.

Passing toward the right one mile, we come to the house of Daniel

Woody, which is in rear of the right of the line of the Eighteenth. It

is the head-quarters of General Martindale, who commands the right

division of the line. Next is Brooks's division in the centre, with

Devens on the left, connecting with Ricketts's on the right of the

Sixth.

There is a clear space west of Woody's house, a cornfield lately

planted, but now trodden by the feet of Martindale's men. In front of

Brooks there is a gentle swell of land, wooded with pines. On the

crest of the hill there is a line of Rebel rifle-pits. In front of

Devens the swell is smoothed to a plain, or rather there is a

depression, as if the hillock had been scooped out of the plain. This

also is wooded. The belt of timber stretches over the plain, crossing

the road to Gaines's Mill, about half a mile from the tavern,--a dark

strip of green twenty or thirty rods in width. Beyond the belt toward

Richmond is a smooth field, half a mile in width, bounded on the

farther edge, under the shadow of another belt of green, by the line

of Beauregard's breastworks. The line of Rebel defence runs diagonally

to the road, the distance being less between Ricketts and the work

than on the left in front of Neil. This plain is swept by Rebel cannon

and thousands of rifles and muskets.

It was past six o'clock--nearly seven--before the troops were in

position to move upon the enemy's works. They marched through the

woods, emerged upon the open field The Rebel batteries opened with

redoubled fury, but the line advanced steadily. Devens found the

depression in front of him almost a marsh, with trees felled, forming

an abatis; but his men passed through, and again came into line.

Burnham's brigade, of Brooks's division, containing the Tenth and

Thirteenth New Hampshire, Eighth Connecticut, and One Hundred and

Eighteenth New York, charged up the hill in front, and took the

rifle-pits above them. Ricketts, having less distance to advance than

the other divisions of the Sixth, was soonest in the fight, sweeping

all before him. Before the Rebels could reload their pieces after the

first volley the bayonets of the advancing columns, gleaming in the

light of the setting sun, were at their throats. Half a brigade was

taken prisoners, while the rest of the Rebels in front of Ricketts

fled in disorder.

Russell moving along the road received an enfilading fire from

artillery and musketry. The Rebels having recovered from their panic,

held on with stubbornness. The broad plain over which Russell moved

was fringed with fire. From dark till past ten o'clock Breckenridge

tried in vain to recover what he had lost.

The loss was severe to us in killed and wounded. But it was a victory,

so signal that a congratulatory order was issued by General Meade to

the Sixth Corps.