moved a few miles to the left, and went into the camp lately occupied by
the 27th New Jersey, a regiment of Burnside's old corps, which went with
him when he left the Army of the Potomac. The Grand Division formation
was abandoned when Hooker took command, and the former corps
organization re-adopted. Our new camp was delightfully situated. It
fronted about twenty rods back from the edge of the high bluff, which
was, perhaps, eighty rods back from the edge of the river. We were
below, but in plain view of Fredericksburg. The New Jerseyites had made
for themselves better quarters than I had ever occupied, and we "entered
into their labors." I never enjoyed soldiering more than during the
weeks we were in this place. Much of the time the weather was good, and
we drilled, did picket duty, and got in readiness for the next grapple.
On the 21st of February I received notice that I had been commissioned
Second Lieutenant of Co. C. It was at the time, next to nothing in the
field. It did not have over two privates in the ranks, with a sergeant,
a drummer and a pioneer. In place of creating new regiments, when the
last call was filled, the men should have been sent to the old regiments
in the field.
On the 16th of March I was officer of the day for our camp, and, of
course, was up and about at all hours of that day and the next night.
During the forepart of this service nothing occurred to make it in any
way notable, so far as I was concerned, but about 3 o'clock in the
morning of the next day, I heard, a considerable distance to the right,
a yelling and cheering, and a general "whoopering up" that I couldn't
account for. I hurried to Col. Miles's tent and reported. He directed me
to send out a couple of men to find out. In due time they came back and
reported that the Irish Brigade were celebrating "St. Patrick's Day in
the Morning." The boys with the green flag had a great day of it, in
which several barrels of commissary were made dry.
On the 14th of April I wrote home that, probably, the Army would move in
a few days. Eight days rations were distributed to the men--five were to
be stored in the knapsacks and three in the haversacks. Extra baggage
was packed and sent to the rear.
On this day Lieut. Plumb started for home on a ten days leave of
absence. He returned and was in his place before the movement came. It
was over a year since I had seen home and I had an application in for a
like leave, but the situation prevented its issue until after the next
great defeat. The 29th of April we broke camp and were ready to join our
brigade at a moment's notice. We did not start till early the next day.
During these hours I had a bilious attack, and was sick enough to die,
but the tents were all down, and there was no chance to baby me. I
groaned and grunted till about the time the regiment started, and then
_I had_ to move or be left behind. I well remember how I staggered in my
attempt to march, but I kept at it, and before night was pretty well. I
had a number of such experiences, so that, I conclude, if the screws
were more frequently put to people in civil life, there would be many
cases of like cures.
We advanced but a few miles and camped. The next day we spent some time
in making corduroy road, and advanced but a few miles. April 30th we
advanced to the vicinity of the river (Rappahannock) and stacked arms in
a piece of woods. If I remember correctly it was here and then that our
corps badges were issued. Ours was the trefoil, and our division's red.
The colors for all corps were: first division, red; second division,
white; third division, blue. Couch was in command of the second Corps.
Hancock was still our division general, and Caldwell our brigade
general. In this place I saw Hancock and Caldwell ride by. Hancock was
mad about something, and he was shaking his fist under Caldwell's nose,
and God-daming him at the top of his capacity. Hancock was a brave and
capable general, but he was demonstratively passionate, and vilely
abusive with his tongue. Junius Gaskell of my Company was for months his
private orderly, and he saw the polish and the rough of him. Gaskell has
told me that he would get mad at his own brother, who was assistant
adjutant general of the division, and blaspheme at him and call him the
conventional name a man uses, when he wants to say a mean thing of the
other fellow based on the alleged status of his mother.
Towards sundown we were put in motion, making our way to the river's
edge, and crossed it on a well-laid pontoon. We ate our supper on the
other side of the river, and then advanced a few miles into the country,
and halted for the night along side an open piece of woods, not far from
the Chancellorsville house. We went into this piece of woods to spread
our blankets to bivouac for the night. Our cavalry had been on this
ground before, and they had responded affirmatively to the calls of
nature, so that we soon discovered we were treading on mounds not as
large, but as soft, as the one into which Peter Stuyvesant fell,
according to the narrative of Irving. I remember, after spreading my own
blanket, that my hand dropped down outside of it, and went slap into one
of those mounds. I further remember that I was not the only
Sixty-firster that imprecated in strong Saxon. But there we were, and
there we lay till sunrise. We learned that the day before a lively
skirmish had been fought here, in which one of our Colonels was killed.
Friday, May 1st, about 11 a. m., the artillery became engaged. Before
long the Sixty-first N. Y., and the Hundred and Forty-eight Pennsylvania
were ordered forward, and we went to the front and right of what I
suppose became our line. We worked our way through a piece of scrub pine
that was almost impervious, having passed this obstruction, we were in
open ground, and we advanced, I think, in skirmish line formation. It
was not long before we met Mr. Johnny Reb., and in such force that we
fell back at a lively pace, and worked our way through the scrub I have
spoken of. We emerged into a large open field where there were a good
many troops. By this time the shells of the enemy were making it
interesting for us. Hancock was present, and rushed matters in his
energetic way to get his men deployed where he wanted them. In due time
we were placed in the woods not far from the clearing. We had not more
than got into position when these woods were shelled. We were ordered to
lie down, and the order was well observed. It seemed to me that I was
never under such a raking fire, the noise was fearful, and the amputated
tree limbs came down on us like snow flakes in a Winter's squall. So far
as I know, no one was seriously hurt in this terrifying bombardment.
After it ceased we moved to another position in the woods, stacked arms,
and there spent the night, or till towards morning of the Second,
(Saturday.)
Before it was fairly light, we were put in motion and a good deal of
time was spent to satisfactorily locate us. As I understand it, we were
placed in sight of, and to the left of the Chancellorsville House. We at
once stacked arms. A line for rifle pits was run out, and one set of men
began to intrench, while another set, with axes, were in front slashing
down the timber--falling it to the front, and tangling it, so that it
was impossible to rapidly work through it. Before night we had seemingly
an impregnable line. It could not have been carried by infantry from the
front. Artillery might have battered down our defences, or infantry
might have turned it, but we hoped that the Confederates would see fit
to attack our line with infantry from the front. Gen. Howard, with the
Eleventh Corps, was on the right of our line. He had been duly notified
during the day that there was a movement of Rebel troops towards his end
of the line. No doubt he was a brave man and believed he could repel any
attack that might be made on him, but where the great issues of a battle
are at stake, a commander has no business to take needless chances, and,
when he can, he should put his men under cover as effectually as may be,
so that he can accomplish his purpose with as little loss of limb and
life as possible. If, as soon as the Eleventh Corps was located they had
gone to work cutting the timber to the front and intrenching, as
Hancock's men did, Jackson would have met a bloody repulse, and
Chancellorsville would have been our victory. Instead of that, his guns
were stacked, his men were lounging about, and absolutely without
protection. (Doubleday's Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, page 26 and
following.) Jackson struck him with a column of 26,000 men about 6 p. m.,
and stampeded his force as if they had been ewe lambs. After reading many
different accounts of this battle, I am fully persuaded that Howard
inexcusably, if not criminally, blundered on this occasion. In regular
course of time the "stampedees," if I may use the word, came across the
country and struck our line. They were entirely in favor of continuing
on, but we protested against it, and told them they would run right into
the rebel lines. Some were still bound to go, when the argument of the
bayonet converted them to our idea, and they camped down in our rear.
Sunday, the 3d, found us in the same place, standing guns in hand behind
our breastworks. The fighting to our right was heavy and continuous.
About 11 a. m. it was evident the Rebels had forced our position. We saw
our men streaming back, in a brief time the enemy had posted artillery
that raked our line. It was no longer tenable, and we were ordered to
fall back on the double quick. As we did so, we were under heavy
artillery fire. We passed near the Chancellor House, which was at the
time, I believe, on fire. We halted about one-fourth of a mile to the
rear, and there formed line of battle in the edge of the woods. While we
were waiting, a number of high class women were located close to us. I
was told at the time they were the occupants of the Chancellor House,
then burning to the ground. I remember writing home and telling my
people that these women were interesting to look at, and that their
features expressed fear and hate. In a little time they were marched
off, and the Sixty-first with a part, if not all of the brigade, were
advanced, I should think, at right angles with the position held by us
for two days. We soon entered a piece of woods and advanced in line of
battle through it. As we came near to the clearing beyond, we saw the
rifle pits of the enemy, and we met at our part of the line quite a
brisk fire, but on the right it was exceedingly severe. One company of
the 148th Pa. lost more than half its men. Then our line fell back to
the place from which we had advanced, and we at once began another set
of entrenchments. In a few hours time we had again defences that we
would have been delighted to see assaulted by our friends, the enemy.
In order to keep us from going to seed the Rebels would occasionally
send over a shell, or solid shot, and they had the true range very well.
I remember while such a practice was under way, and we were on our
bellies back from the breastworks some three rods, so that we might not
be hurt by the top log if it should be hit by a ball or shell, a large
solid shot came hurtling over, just above the top of our works, and
plunged into the ground close to the feet of a sandy-haired Irishman by
the name of Flarity. I think I was looking that way at the moment.
Flarity felt the sweep of the wind as the shot went over him; he raised
up sufficiently to see where it had gone into the ground, and said,
"Whist, ye divil! was yee's _intinded_ for me?" Those who saw the effect
of the shot and heard Flarity had a loud smile.
We were not attacked on Monday, though during the day Lieut-Col. Broady
called the officers around him and informed them in his Swedish brogue,
that it was anticipated that the enemy would charge our position, which
we were to hold as long as there was a man left of us, and that if we
should give way and fall back we would be fired into by our men, who
held a second and third line. This was delightful information, and made
us feel very jolly--"over the left?" but I am satisfied there was not a
man in the crowd that would have gone back if the chance had been
offered. The attack did not come, and during the night we began the
backward march again, which had come to be almost a matter of course.
Hooker had twice as many men as Lee, and the movement seemed to open
encouragingly. While Doubleday and Walker and Alden do not in so many
words say that Hooker was drunk, I think that is the clear inference. If
he was, shooting would be too good for him, he ought to have been burned
at the stake.
Saturday morning, the second day of May, Col. Miles was put in command
of the picket line to our front. His own regiment was not in this
advance line, but was in the first main line behind the works that I
have mentioned. Our Colonel here made a great reputation for himself. I
quote from Swinton, "Amid much that is dastardly at Chancellorsville,
the conduct of this young, but gallant and skillful officer, shines
forth with a brilliant lustre." Walker says of him, "So delighted was
Hancock at the splendid behavior of his skirmish line that, after one
repulse of the enemy, he exclaimed, 'Capt. Parker, ride down and tell
Col. Miles he's worth his weight in gold!'" While Couch, turning to the
Major-Generals who commanded his two divisions, said, in his quiet but
emphatic way, "I tell you what it is, gentlemen, I shall not be
surprised to find myself, some day serving under that young man."
Shortly after he was dangerously wounded through the body. Walker says
(page 240) "Hancock strengthens the skirmish line held by Miles, and
instructs that officer not to yield one foot, except on actual
necessity; and well is that trust discharged. The troops under Miles's
command consist of the 61st, 64th and 66th New York, with detachments
from the 53d Pa, 2d Delaware, and 140th, 145th and 148th Pa. and 27th
Conn." The historian of the Second Corps is in error when he writes that
the 61st was placed on the skirmish line. As I have before stated, it
remained behind the works it built, until the position was enfladed by
the enemy's artillery, and then it, with the rest of that line, fell
back.
He is again in error when he says, (page 244) speaking of the disaster
of the 3d, "Hancock's division was no longer intact. Caldwell, with the
61st, 52d and 57th N. Y., and four companies of the 148th Pa., had, at a
sudden call, marched to the United States Ford road, with a view to the
anticipated breaking through of the enemy from the right and rear."
Unless the movement above described is the one made through the wood, in
which the 148th Pa. suffered so severely.
During Monday night and Tuesday morning we started back, and after
daylight Tuesday, the 5th of May, we "_got back on our side of the
Rappahannock_." Before night we were again on our campground of the
December before.
May 11th I received a fifteen days leave of absence, for which I had
applied before the late movement. Those granted prior to the move had
been but for ten days. Probably the extra five days was in the nature of
a premium for the delay caused by the campaign, and the service in it. I
made the most of this time, and was so feasted at home that I started
back several pounds heavier than when I left. I did not desire to be
away long. At the end of the leave I was anxious to be again with the
boys. At this time I was tenting with Nutting and Collins. Nutting came
down with typhoid fever. He was sent to hospital, and returned in the
Fall.
While in this camp, June 1st, 1863, the First Brigade of the First
Division, fell in and passed in review by quite a body of officers,
including Hancock, Howard and Barlow. Gen. Howard made appropriate
remarks to the remnants of the 5th N. H., 81st Pa., 64th and 61st N. Y.,
which he commanded in the battle of Fair Oaks that day, the year before.
But a small fraction of the men he commanded that day at 7 a. m. were
present to hear his words. He said we were in this great strife to win,
and we would fight it to a finish, and we applauded his sentiments by
lusty cheers. After this we returned to our quarters. Barlow appeared
and gave us a chance to grasp his hand. I am sure this great soldier
always had a special affection for the men of the 61st N. Y. He had
their entire confidence. Unquestionably they obeyed his orders, first,
perhaps, because they didn't dare do otherwise, and, second, because
they trusted his judgment and ability to perform what he set out to do.
Now everything indicated a move at short notice. Sunday, the 14th of
June, the Confederates shot off their big guns on the heights of
Fredericksburg. I think our people crossed the river on a
reconnaissance. At 8 p. m. the Second Corps moved, marched four miles
and halted for the night. Monday, the 15th, we passed Stafford Court
House. Tuesday, the 16th, the march took us beyond Dumfries' Court
House. This day was excessively hot, and it was stated that quite a
number of the Second Corps died of sunstroke. Lieut. Elmore was stricken
down by it. He lay on the ground almost motionless--was quite out of his
head and talked crazy. He was put into an ambulance, and sent to
hospital.
Wednesday, the 17th, at the close of the day, we halted at Pope's Run on
the Orange & Alexandria R. R. Thursday, the 18th, no move was made,
except to change camp. In the afternoon of Friday (the 19th) we moved
and halted in the evening at Centreville, the place we had been in about
nine months before. Saturday about noon we left Centreville for
Thoroughfare Gap. We passed over the two Bull Run battlefields, which
were fought about a year apart. On the field of 1861 the dead had been
buried with the least expenditure of labor. I should say the bodies had
been laid close together, and a thin coat of earth thrown over them. As
the bodies decayed, the crust fell in exposing in part the skeletons.
Some of our men extracted teeth from the grinning skulls as they lay
thus exposed to view. On the field of 1862 from one mound a hand stuck
out. The flesh instead of rotting off had dried down, and there it was
like a piece of dirty marble. Such sights are not refreshing to men
going forward in search of a new battlefield. Thoroughfare Gap was
reached during the night. We remained in this place until noon of
Thursday, the 25th, when we moved, the enemy following us up quite
sharply with artillery.
After dark we camped at Gum Spring. It had rained all day. I was placed
in charge of the picket line that night, and visited the posts wet to
the skin. In the morning a young and innocent calf was sporting in the
field we occupied. Some of our wickedest men ended the life of that calf
skinned it, and gave me a chunk. I expected to have an unusually good
meal out of it. No time was found to cook this meat until we halted at
Edward's Ferry on the Potomac, where we expected to spend the night.
Collins and I proposed to have a great meal out of our piece of veal.
Our man "Robert" fried it in the stew pan, which was the half of a
canteen, and brought it on smoking hot. The experiment of trying to eat
it disclosed the fact that it was "deeken veal" and very "_stringy_," I
think the Spanish war soldiers would have called it. We discarded it and
went back to "salt hoss."
That night we crossed the Potomac on a pontoon, and were again in "My
Maryland." The performances this night were such as to justify vocal
daming on the part of a very good Christian. The men were tired, but
they were marched and countermarched, and halted and started, and placed
and unplaced, until it was fair to conclude that someone was drunk. At
last the person directing the column got his bearings and we proceeded.
We were plodding along a road in which there was on the right hand side
a ditch about two feet deep. Having been up and awake all of the night
before, I was fearfully sleepy and hardly able to drag myself along. All
at once I went into this ditch, and struck full length. In its bottom
there was about two inches of mud, thick enough to encase me. By the
time I had pawed out, I could not, if laid out, have been distinguished
from a mud sill; but I was too near gone to speak bad words, and so went
on in silence, weighing five pounds more than before my descent. Before
long we halted and bivouaced for the night. The next morning, the 27th,
our regiment started about 10 o'clock, and was thrown out as an advance
guard to our baggage train. Along the line of this march there were
numerous wild black cherry trees. They were loaded with ripe fruit, and
we ate our fill. I think we covered 25 miles this day, and went into
camp near Frederick City. We were over this same ground less than a year
before, and everything looked as it then did.
Sunday, the 28th, we moved up, and camped just before crossing the
Monocacy. We spent the day very comfortably, and went to bed by rolling
up in our blankets, when an order came to "fall in." This we did of
course, but wished it had been otherwise. We marched about two miles,
and were posted to guard a ford of the Monocacy. We had with us a
section of artillery.
Monday, the 29th, we made a march of over thirty-two miles. We halted
for the night some miles beyond Uniontown, at about 10 p. m. I know I
was so completely tired out, that, as soon as arms were stacked, I
stretched out without unrolling my blankets, and I knew nothing till the
next morning, when I was awakened by the sun shining into my eyes. I
was so stiff that it took some time to get on to my legs, but, after
moving about for a while, I was all right.
Tuesday, the 30th, we remained in camp, many straggled in the march of
the day before, and during this day most of them came up. Wednesday,
July 1st, we started out, none of us knowing for where. We heard no
sound of battle that day. No doubt the lay of the land shut off the
thunder of the guns. A rumor soon became current that a fight was in
progress, and that Gen. Reynolds had been killed. We marched through a
little village, perhaps it was Taneytown. Our signalers were up in the
steeple of a church on the street we were passing through, and their
flags were we-wawing at a great rate. Before long the ambulance
containing the corpse of Reynolds passed us. We halted for the night.
After sundown our brigade, and probably the division, were in line of
battle. As soon as arms were stacked, we went to a rail fence, took down
the rails, brought them to our line, and, before going to bed--i. e.,
spreading our blankets on the ground--we had staked up those rails and
banked earth against them so that they would have served quite a purpose
as breastworks. By this time lines of camp fires were burning as far as
we could see, indicating that the army was massed here, or the ruse was
worked to make the enemy think so.
Thursday, the 2d, we were quietly ordered to turn out. Breakfast was
eaten, the guns and ammunition were inspected, and by six or seven
o'clock we were in motion. On the march I remember we went through a
small piece of open timber, where our doctors were posted, and as we
went by we shook hands with them, and exchanged little pleasantries. I
remember saying to them, "We'll see you again later." I tried to say
this with a jaunty air, but down in my shoes I did not feel a bit
jaunty. I think we all felt that this should be a death grapple, and, if
Lee went further north, it ought to be over the played out ranks of this
army. We continued our march and halted in a large open field to the
left of the village of Gettysburg. Our brigade was massed, and commanded
by Col. Edward E. Cross of the 5th N. H.
We remained in this place during the long hours of the day. There was
no noise, save occasionally slight picket firing, but it was not the
silence of assured quiet. It was the painful waiting before the descent
of the certain cyclone.