open country, not far from three o'clock a. m. The light was just
beginning to show in the East. We did not know the locality or the name
of the place if it had one. We saw that a part of our army at least was
massed here. Later on we came to know that it was Malvern Hill, where a
great battle was soon to be fought. I am glad we did not know it before
it came. In our ignorance, we assumed that now the fighting was over for
a time, and we would be given a chance to recuperate after the strain of
the past week. As soon as arms were stacked details for water gathered
the dry canteens and went in search of the much needed fluid. Those who
could, stretched out on Mother Earth for another nap.
As soon as the sun was up the men stirred themselves, made coffee and
ate such food as they had in their haversacks--hard bread, and boiled
salt pork, or beef. At such times the soldier's menu is not elaborate,
and he is satisfied if there is enough of it to prevent the pangs of
hunger.
We were occupying an open field with other troops of our corps, without
protection from the broiling sun. The intense heat was not as bad as a
battle, but some of our men were used up by it. I think it must have
been in the neighborhood of 10 a. m. when some of our men spoke out:
'There's the reb's planting a battery.' Every eye was turned in the
direction indicated. It was plain to be seen that artillery was being
placed, but, at the distance, I could not distinguish the uniforms, and
I declared that they were our men. My wisdom did not have long to
maintain itself, for in a short time shells were dropping in on us in a
way no friend would shoot.
Now preparations were rapidly going on for a great battle--the last of
an historic series. Ammunition was being distributed to the infantry,
boxes of cartridges were brought to us and opened while we were standing
this shelling. Capt. Broady superintended the distribution. Every man
filled his cartouch, and then Broady made us take from forty to sixty
rounds in the haversacks. He declared as he went up and down the lines,
when some of the men grumbled at the quantity, 'Men, you may be glad to
have them before you get more.' After a while our batteries silenced the
guns that had been making it disagreeable for us.
While we were in this place a matter transpired that has left an
unfading impression on my mind. A member of our regiment, who had been
much of the time detailed, and had acted as hostler for some of the
field officers, but was now with his company, came up to Colonel Barlow
with a woe-begone countenance and told him that he was sick and not able
to be in the ranks, and said that the doctor thought he ought to be
permitted to go to the rear. No doubt Barlow had noted the use this man
had been put to, and, where he believed a soldier was managing to escape
danger and find a soft place, he always endeavored to make it as
unpleasant for that man as possible. The Colonel was not in an amiable
frame of mind. He was on foot, old "Billy" had been killed the night
before, and he felt like having a dialogue with someone. He asked this
man some questions which satisfied him he was a coward. His wrath broke
out vehemently. He cursed and swore at him and called him a variety of
unpleasant and detestable things and then he began to punch him with
his fist wherever he could hit. Finally he partly turned him around, and
gave him a hearty kick in the stern and said: "Damn you, get away from
here! You're not fit to be with my brave men." The fellow departed as
fast as his short legs would carry him. I knew of no other man
presenting an excuse or asking for leave of absence that day. I believe
every man of us preferred to meet the rebels rather than the vocal scorn
and denunciation of Barlow. I believe he did not know what personal,
bodily fear was, and he had no consideration for a coward.
I met Barlow in New York in LaFayette Post Room, at the time Sixty-first
Regimental association was formed. I made this remark to him: "I never
went into a battle without an effort of my will, and always expected to
be wounded or killed." He said in his quiet way, "I never felt so, I
never had an impression that I was to be hurt." In the address at
Hamilton, N. Y., in 1897, before referred to, Gen. Howard said that Gen.
Barlow was one the bravest and coolest men he ever saw in battle.
After a while our brigade was moved forward and about half way up a rise
of ground--it was hardly a hill--at the top of which were an old house
and barn. We were ordered to lie down in support of a battery in front
that was doing a lively business. I remember that before getting down I
spread my rubber blanket to lie on. The fragments of the exploded shells
came showering down upon and about us, presently a chunk large enough to
have laid me out a harmless corpse came tearing through my blanket, but
in a spot not covered by my body. Every now and then along the
supporting line a man was knocked out. It was at this time that Ralph
Haskell, a Hamilton boy, and another lying beside him had their brains
knocked out by these shell fragments. They were but a few feet from me
and I saw the whole bloody business.
About this time a remarkable freak was perpetrated on the body of Capt.
Broady. He was standing, when in an instant he was thrown to the ground
with great force, and he lay there quivering as if life were the same as
extinct. Col. Barlow saw him fall and ordered his body taken to the
rear. This was done by a number of men, who remained by the body to
observe the passing of the last breath, when to their surprise the
captain opened his eyes and, with his slightly Swedish brogue, inquired
if he was much hurt. The men replied, "Why yes, you're all knocked to
pieces." The captain wiggled about some and then asked, "How do you know
men, do you see the blood run?" They had to answer "No." By this time
his consciousness had fully returned. He directed the men to help him
onto his feet and soon came back with his old-fashioned nippy gait.
Barlow had regarded him as ticketed for the "happy hunting ground" and
when he saw him walking back to the line, he was quite surprised. He
looked him over for a moment, and then said to his regiment, "Men, give
Capt. Broady three cheers, he's a brave man." This we did with a will.
When we got to a place where an examination could be had, it was found
that Broady had been so struck by a piece of shell that it went through
his overcoat, and then rotated in such a manner as to cut the tails off
from his dress coat, so that, after we got to Harrison's Landing the
captain went about dressed in that frock coat with the skirts cut off.
In other words he was supporting a jacket.
Shortly after this episode we were ordered forward up the slope to the
level ground and where the before mentioned old house and barn were. We
again lay down. The enemy were shelling these buildings at a terrific
rate, the rattle and crash of the shells into that woodwork made the
hair fairly stand on end. As we first lay down, it was found best to
have the men face about. This was done without getting up and
countermarching, but by facing around and bringing the rear into the
front rank. The officers crawled back as best they could, and the
sergeants did the same. I was making my way to the rear when one of the
officers turned up his head and said to me, "Where in the devil are you
trying to get to?" The tone indicated that he thought I was trying to
sneak off. This made me mad, and I snarled out, "I'm trying to get into
my place. If you think I'm afraid, I'll go to the front as far as you
dare to!" Within the following year this officer came to know me well,
and had, I believe, confidence that I would not seek to avoid a place
of danger.
After a time this artillery attack on our position ceased, and we were
ordered forward to the brow of the hill on the other side. Here we had
planted the greatest continuous row of cannon I ever saw set for work in
a battle. I would not be surprised to have it said by authority that
fifty of them crowned the brow of this elevation. Our position was
immediately on the right flank of this line of guns.
The Seventh New York, a German regiment, was formed on the left of the
Sixty-first N. Y., and in the rear of the artillery as a support. This
German regiment joined our brigade after the battle of Fair Oaks. It
came to us from Fortress Monroe, about one thousand strong under Col.
VanShack. He had, I believe, served in the German army and was a fine
appearing officer, but a full blooded German organization was not, in
this country in those days, on a par with "Yankee" troops. A sprinkling
of Dutchmen was all right. We had in the Sixty-first Germans and
Dutchmen, who were the peers as soldiers, of any in the regiment, but
this Seventh regiment when it went into action jabbered and talked Dutch
to exceed in volubility any female sewing society ever assembled. As
they came up and got into position the volume of jabber almost overcame
the rattle of musketry and the roar of artillery. I am certain their
conduct did not favorably impress our men. If the German Emperor's army
is not made of grimmer stuff than I saw exhibited in pure German
regiments in our army, I would not fear the result in matching them with
Americans from the North or the South.
It was said, and I suppose it was so, that in front of us was Magruder
and the story was current that he had served his men with gun-powder and
whiskey. Many stories are on the wind at such times that are no nearer
the truth than lies. I do not believe the rank and file very often had
their courage braced up with whiskey.
The battle of Malvern Hill was a splendid fight for our side, and I
firmly believe if we had been commanded by a brave and confident man
like Grant, Sherman, Sheridan, Thomas or by some of the corps commanders
of the Potomac Army, Gen. Lee might have been pushed at least into the
defences of Richmond. But McClellan was on the James protecting the gun
boats, and composing a scolding letter to the president--probably.
From our position on the brow of the hill, it was open ground for a
distance and gently sloped off to the woods. Time after time the enemy
formed for the purpose of making a charge on us, but no sooner did they
appear than this immense line of artillery opened fire, which no troops
in the world could withstand. In aid of the artillery fire, the infantry
posted so as to have a chance, poured in volley after volley. Col.
Barlow practiced here that which I never saw before or after in
battle--volley firing by ranks. Then he changed it to firing by files
and then to firing at will which is as often as you please. This
tremendous storm of missiles held the confederates at bay. They did in a
feeble way reply to our fire, and we lost in killed and a large number
wounded. At times our firing was so rapid that the gun barrels became
heated to the point that they could not be grasped and the men held
their guns by the sling strap. I had some personal experiences in this
battle that were unique in my service. Our muskets were the Enfield
rifle, an English gun, much like the Springfield. They were, of course,
muzzle loaders, breech loaders then were the exception. The Minnie
bullet had no device for cleaning out the barrel, and after a dozen
shots it would become foul, and often it was difficult to ram the bullet
home. After I had fired my gun a number of times, in attempting to load,
the bullet lodged half way down. I made desperate efforts to send it
home but to no purpose. I found a stone large enough to pound on the end
of the ramrod, but the only effect seemed to be to set it the snugger.
It was the wrong place to hesitate in. I capped the tube, drew up the
gun and pulled the trigger expecting an explosion. The kick was strong
but I did not discover any damage to the gun--doubtless the barrel was
injured. I picked up another gun left by some dead or wounded man and
resumed my work. After exhausting the cartridges in my cartridge box, I
had my hand in my haversack for a fresh package, when I felt myself
severely hurt in the arm. The sensation was, it seemed to me, as if a
red hot rod had been run over it. I supposed I was badly damaged and
brought up my arm so as to examine it in the growing darkness. I found
that a bullet had taken the skin off from my wrist, a piece as large as
a cent, and only to the depth to allow the blood to slowly ooze through.
The momentary hurt of this slight flesh, or skin wound was more severe
than I experienced a year later when the bones of my leg and arm were
shot through. The next day on the march to Harrison's Landing, where we
halted long enough for lunch, I discovered that this bullet had gone
through my haversack, cutting off a piece of the rim of my tin plate,
and, in its passage had journeyed through my bags of coffee and sugar
and had compounded them considerably.
In this fight George Joyce of Co. C was seriously wounded through the
arm, so that he was obliged to go to the hospital. He was a singular
person--small in stature, illiterate, and until he became known for what
he was, regarded by all as a braggadocio. I do not remember that his
remarkable qualities were observed until the night before at Glendale.
It was during the second attack, while I was off on my flank movement,
that Barlow ordered the men further forward. A man spoke out, "We will
follow the colors." Joyce had them, or took them as a volunteer--as he
was but a private--went to the front with them, jabbed the staff into
the ground and said, "There's your colors! Come up to them!" and the men
obeyed. For this act Barlow complimented Joyce, and then and there
promoted him to an orderly sergeancy in another company. I shall mention
Joyce again, when he next appeared with the regiment at Fredericksburg.
The fighting was prolonged until late into the evening, and the usual
amount of ammunition taken into the battle was exhausted before we left
the field. I remember Barlow's saying, "If the enemy make another
attack, we will meet them with the cold steel."
Gradually things quieted, and about 12 o'clock we fell back a few rods
and lay down on our arms. We were not disturbed till daylight, when we
could see that the retreat movement was still in progress.
Finally we took our turn in the march. We had not gone far when one of
the men came to me and said that our flag was back where we had rested
after the fight, and he asked if he had better go back for it. I said to
him, "By all means get the flag!" He did as requested, and that same
bunting waved on a good many hard fought fields afterward. I do not
know, but presume that this flag was finally replaced by another. It
was, even then, much delapidated, and at Antietam it was mercilessly
pierced and torn. The road we finally reached, for Harrison's Landing
soon entered a narrow place between two bluffs. Two or three columns
were using the road and when they came to this sort of gorge it became
almost a jam. I remember hearing a few guns fired at this time, and the
effect on the men was to cause them to crowd faster to the rear. At the
time it came to my mind with painful force, "If the rebels should attack
us with a brave, fresh division, they would stampede us." From what I
have since read, I think each army considered itself whipped and was
glad to get into a place of safety!
At all events, we were not further molested in our march to Harrison's
Landing. We reached the place about noon and went into camp. The James
River, from ten miles below Richmond down to Bermuda Hundred, is about
as tortuous as a river ever runs. At that point it widens out, a
distance of from one to two miles; much of that space is, of course,
shallow water.
The next day the enemy run down a battery or two, on the south side of
the river, and gave us a lively shelling. Our division general,
Richardson, wanted to change the location of some of us, and became very
impatient at the slow movements of the men. He roared out: "_Make haste,
men! make haste! every minute is an hour!_" and the men hustled at a
livelier gait.
Richardson steadily grew in the esteem of his men. The story had got
noised about that while we lay in camp just before Fair Oaks, a loafer
about his headquarters addressed insulting language to a woman who was
employed in doing certain domestic work and who followed up the army.
The general heard the vile talk of the fellow from his tent. He hastily
made his appearance, and, in words expressed his disapproval of such
conduct, and, in acts he kicked the offender a number of times with such
power as to raise him at every kick a number of feet into the air, and
then sent him to his regiment. That offence was not again committed at
those headquarters.
In a few days the army was in position at Harrison's Landing. The James
at this point bends in slightly on the North bank and is very wide. A
line of breastworks was thrown up surrounding the encampment. I presume
the place was made secure against any attack from the enemy. As
McClellan was an engineer officer, he was, doubtless, good for
entrenchments, if for nothing else.
On the Fourth of July President Lincoln came to us and we were reviewed
by him and the commander of the army. Mr. Lincoln was dressed in black
clothes and wore a silk hat. That hat on the top of his six feet four
made him a very tall man. Recently the newspapers have published a story
purporting to have been told by Gen. Lew Wallace, to this effect: He was
one day at the White House. It was just after the Army of the Potomac
had got to its new base. The president was so obviously sad and cast
down that the general ventured to remark upon it. The president took him
across the room where no one could hear what he said and there told him
that in an hour he was to start for the Army of the Potomac to prevent
its commander from surrendering it to Lee. While I think McClellan was a
fearful incompetent, I am slow to believe, if the above ever took place,
that Mr. Lincoln had good grounds for his belief. In those early years
of the war, no doubt, much was reported that, later, would not be
listened to. Whatever may have been the moving cause, the president was
with us that day, and we cheered his presence to the echo.
During the weeks we were here encamped, we went to the James for
occasional bathing, but we did not have facilities for washing our
clothes in boiling water. The result was that we were all well stocked
with body lice. The men generally were diligent in picking off and
destroying the lives of these little animals by pressure between the
thumb nails. The slaughter of all in view one day, left enough back in
concealment so that the next day's hunt was always rewarded by abundant
captures.
The only time I was excused from duty while in the service on account of
sickness was while we were in camp here. One day I took a company of
sick to the doctor. I staid by till he had passed out the last dose. We
had three remedies, one of which would hit any possible case. They were
opium pills, castor oil and quinine. The pills cured all bowel troubles;
castor oil lubricated and opened up the internal functions, and quinine
cured everything else. I remarked to the doctor that I would rather like
to experience the sensation of being excused from duty and placed on the
sick list for one day. Nothing in particular was doing, so the obliging
surgeon said, "All right, you may go to your quarters sick and be
excused from duty for one day." I am now glad to say, that was the first
and last time I was ever so favored.
In this camp I was subjected to discipline by Col. Barlow. The evening
before, on dress parade, I was named to take charge of a police detail
from the Sixty-first, which was to report at brigade headquarters the
next morning at five o'clock. I had slept but little during the night.
Toward morning I fell into a drowse, and was awakened out of it by the
reveille. I hurried out of my tent and was getting my detail together,
hoping that the colonel would not notice my tardiness. I got to the
place of rendezvous the first of any one in the brigade, and had to wait
for an hour before a start was made. Our party worked through the
forenoon, picking up all litter, looking after sinks, burying dead
animals and doing whatever came in view to make our section of the
country sanitary and look tidy. This performed we returned to our
respective regiments. Having dismissed my detail, I was going to my tent
when Sergeant Major Greig sang out, "Sergeant Fuller, the colonel says
you may consider yourself under arrest, and you will confine yourself to
your tent." I knew of course the reason for this. I stayed within for a
couple of days, and then wrote a statement of the case and got a drummer
to take it to the colonel. It came right back with an endorsement that
if I had any communication to make, it could be done through the
regular channel. I then sent the paper to Lieut. Keech and he forwarded
it to the colonel. In a few moments I received from him a line that I
was relieved from arrest and could resume my duties. These disciplinary
matters were needful to keep the men up to their duties, and the
organization instructed, and in working order.
One evening Barlow took the regiment and started for the front. We
passed our intrenchments, and, it was said, we marched in the direction
of Malvern Hill. We advanced a number of miles, discovered no enemy and
returned to camp before morning.
About the eighth of August signs appeared that a change was coming. The
siege guns were withdrawn and shipped, as were the heavier camp equipage
and extra baggage. Aug. 16th about noon we broke camp and moved out, we
did not know where to, nor where for. It proved to be a march down the
peninsula. The first day out we made but about four miles, and halted
near a corn field. The corn was fit for roasting and the men had a
feast. I suppose the strict rules of McClellan's army, probably, were
violated as there was some foraging done.
August 17th we made twelve miles, and passed Charles City Court House.
Inexcusable vandalism was here committed. The books and records of the
county seat were scattered about in profusion. Many documents two
hundred years old were passed about, and there were those with
Washington's signature. We crossed the Chickahomony, I was told, near
its junction with the James, on a pontoon bridge, I should think
one-eighth of a mile in length. It was the longest stretch of bridge of
the kind I ever saw.
The road we took on this march was not the one by which we went up, on
our way to the Richmond we did not see until about three years after.
The country does not vary much from prairie level. The soil is light,
with no stone in it to speak of. In a dry time, with considerable travel
it powders up so that in going through it the dust rises in almost solid
columns. A good part of the Potomac army, horse, artillery, foot and
baggage trains, had preceded us. This made the dust as deep as it could
be. Much of the road was through forests. I well remember this march
from the dust experience. It exceeded anything I ever heard of. We would
march for long distances when a man could not see his file leader--the
dust so filled the air as to prevent seeing. Of course, the men had to
breath this air. The nostrils would become plugged with the dust so
moistened as to make slugs. Every now and then the men would fire them
out of their noses almost as forcibly as a boy snaps a marble from his
fingers. I remember having serious forbodings that taking in such
quantities of road dirt would cause lasting injury. I do not know that
my apprehensions of evil from this cause were ever realized. I suppose
the dust that got into the lungs worked out in some way.
Aug. 19th we passed through Williamsburg, the site of William's and
Mary's College and the capital of the colony in the days when Patrick
Henry told the House of Delegates that, "Caesar had his Brutus, Charles
the First his Cromwell, and George the third--might profit by their
example." At this time the place was very delapidated. As I remember
there was but one good looking house. The place had been well fortified
against our approach as we were going up in May.