Events of 1863--The Siege of Vicksburg--Anecdotes about Gens. Logan,
Stevenson and Grant--Little Rock Captured--Recruiting at Fort
Snelling--The engagement at Fitzhugh's Woods--Pine Bluff--Winter
Quarters at Duvall's Bluff--Death of Lincoln--Close of the War--The
Third Regiment Disbanded.
In the month of December the officers were exchanged and ordered back to
Fort Snelling, to where the enlisted men had also returned from the
Indian war. In January, 1863, we again left Minnesota for the South. The
whole of this winter and the beginning of spring were devoted to
expeditions against guerillas and Confederate recruiting camps in
southern Tennessee. Most of this time I commanded the regiment, four
companies of which were mounted. We had to procure horses as best we
could, here and there through the country. We had many skirmishes with
the enemy, and captured a number of prisoners.
In the beginning of June we joined the forces that were besieging
Vicksburg under the command of Gen. Grant, and remained there until that
city had capitulated. The siege of Vicksburg is so well known from
history that I shall make no attempt to describe it here. For five
consecutive weeks the cannonading was so incessant that the soldiers
became as accustomed to it as the passengers on a steamer to the noise
of the propeller, and, when the capitulation finally put an end to all
this noise, we found it very difficult to sleep for several nights on
account of the unusual silence.
The July number of _Hemlandet_, contained a letter from me, dated
Vicksburg, June 24th, from which I make the following extract:
"The army of Gen. Grant is divided into two Grand Divisions, one of
which is arranged in a semi-circle toward Vicksburg, only a few
hundred yards from the intrenchments of the rebels, the other in a
semi-circle turned away from Vicksburg, and fronting the army of Gen.
Johnston. We are all protected by strong intrenchments, and always
keep over two thousand men as picket guards, and the same number are
digging rifle pits and building intrenchments.
"Gen. Logan's Division is close up to the intrenchments of the rebels.
The Swedish Maj. Stohlbrand is chief of artillery in Logan's Division,
and, has, as such, under his special charge one of the most important
positions in the beleaguering army.
"I visited Gen. Logan yesterday, and will relate a little episode
concerning this brave commander: When Gen. Logan heard that I was a
Swede, and wished to see Maj. Stohlbrand, who had just ridden out to
look after his batteries, the general, being always full of fun,
assumed a very solemn air, and said: 'Too bad you did not come an hour
sooner, for then you could have seen Stohlbrand. There'--and he went
to the door of his tent and pointed across the camp ground--'there is
the tent of Maj. Stohlbrand. Half an hour ago a bomb exploded from the
main fort yonder. Poor Stohlbrand! Only a few remnants were left of
the contents of his tent. Poor Stohlbrand! Perhaps you would like to
see the remains?'
"Accompanied by Gens. Stevenson, Ransom, and several other officers, I
followed Gen. Logan to the tent of Stohlbrand. Then Logan said: 'Out
of respect for poor Stohlbrand we have put everything in order again.
Here you see his camp stool, there his uniform, and there is his
little field cot.' The bed looked as if a dead body was lying on it,
covered by a blanket. Logan walked solemnly up to the head of the bed,
lifted the blanket, and behold, there was only a bundle of rags! The
rest of us, of course, supposed that Stohlbrand was dead, and that his
corpse was lying on the bed. This little joke made the humorous Logan
laugh so that his whole body shook.
"As to the Swedes in the army, I may mention that, besides our Company
D, there are in the same division the company of Capt. Arosenius of
the Forty-third Illinois regiment, and that of Capt. Corneliuson of
the Twenty-third Wisconsin regiment, and a number of Swedes of the
other regiments from Illinois and Wisconsin, and of the Fourth and
Fifth Minnesota regiments. Old Company D is a model, as usual,--the
best one I have seen yet. Both officers and men are quiet, orderly,
cheerful and obedient, always faithful at their post, and ready to go
wherever duty calls them. They are loved and respected by all who come
in contact with them. When I feel sad or despondent, all I need do is
to walk along the camp street and take a look at some of my old
Scandinavians. Their calm and earnest demeanor always makes me glad
and proud. I ask for no greater honor than to point them out to some
stranger, saying: 'This is my old company.'
"Not these alone, however, but all of my countrymen whom I met in the
army have a good name, and are considered most reliable and able
soldiers."
I shall now relate a couple of anecdotes from the siege of Vicksburg,
which I did not mention in the letter to _Hemlandet_.
[Illustration: GRANT'S HEADQUARTERS.]
Outside Gen. Logan's tent stood a big magnolia tree. While laughing at
Logan's joke Gen. Stevenson picked up a little stick of wood and
whittled on it with his penknife, in genuine Yankee fashion. Accidently
he dropped his knife, and, while stooping down to pick it up, a fragment
of a shell from the rebel batteries came and went two inches deep into
the tree right where his head had been when he was whittling. He coolly
remarked, "That piece of iron was not made for me."
One day as I, in company with Lieut. Col. (afterward Gen.) C. C.
Andrews, was visiting Gen. Grant outside of Vicksburg, a wagon drawn
by six mules passed close by his headquarters. The driver, an old,
rough-looking soldier, stopped, and asked the way to a certain regiment.
Gen. Grant's tent stood on a little elevation, at the foot of which were
several fresh wagon tracks. A number of officers, including myself, were
standing and sitting around the general outside the tent. Gen. Grant,
who was dressed in a fatigue suit and slouched hat, without other marks
of distinction than three small silver stars, which could scarcely be
distinguished on his dusty blouse, went toward the driver and, with the
most minute particulars, gave him directions how to drive. While he was
talking, we observed that the driver showed signs of deep emotion, and
finally he alighted from the mule, which he was riding, stretched out
his arms, and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed: "My God! I believe it
is Gen. Grant! General, do you remember Tommy Donald? I was a soldier in
your company during the Mexican war!" With touching kindness the great
commander-in-chief now took both hands of the ragged soldier in his,
and, like old friends who had not met for a long time, they rejoiced in
remembering the companionship of fifteen years before.
[Illustration: ARMY WAGON.]
When Gen. Grant returned to the tent the conversation turned to the
newspaper clamor and general discontent because Vicksburg was not yet
taken, upon which the general expressed himself in the following words:
"I could make another assault and hasten the capture a few days, but
will not do it because I _know_ positively that within ten days the
garrison must surrender anyhow, for I have got them, and will take them
all. Let them howl. I don't care. I have got Pemberton tight as wax."
Saying which, he closed his right hand and laid it on the little camp
table with such force that I noticed the veins filling and turning blue
on the back of his hand. These two little incidents give a key to Gen.
Grant's whole character, and the secret of his unparalleled success, not
only in winning battles, but in bagging the entire opposing force.
A week later Vicksburg fell into our hands. We took thirty-two thousand
prisoners, fifteen generals, two thousand other officers, and nearly two
hundred cannon.
[Illustration: GENERALS GRANT AND PEMBERTON.]
About a week after the surrender of Vicksburg the Third regiment was
transferred to the Seventh army corps, under the command of Gen. Fred.
Steele, and took part in the campaign against Little Rock. In the
beginning of September, when we were only ten miles from Little Rock,
our regiment enjoyed the distinction of marching at the head of the
infantry column. We came upon the Confederate batteries on the west bank
of the Arkansas river, where a brisk cannonade was opened. This combat
afforded the most beautiful sight imaginable, if carnage and slaughter
may be called beautiful. We stood on the east side of the river, the
Confederates on the west. The water being very low, a steamer had been
grounded about an eighth of a mile above us, and near the steamer the
water was so shallow that the cavalry could ford the river; but just in
front of the Third regiment the water was so deep that we had to throw a
pontoon bridge for the infantry.
Our regiment was stationed in a cornfield near the river bank to cover
the march across the bridge, and the soldiers were ordered to lie down
on the ground. But we found it very difficult to make them obey, for, in
their eagerness to cross the river, they felt more like rushing ahead
and shouting for joy. Many shots from the Confederate batteries passed
over our heads, so low that the soldiers, in a sporting mood, jumped up
and grabbed with their hands in the air, as if trying to catch them.
In less than an hour the bridge across the deep channel was ready. A
cavalry brigade had meanwhile moved up to the ford above, and now the
signal for crossing was given. The Confederates set fire to the steamer,
which they were unable to save.
It was about noon on one of those glorious autumn days peculiar to this
country, which greatly enhanced the impression of the sublime spectacle
then to be seen on the Arkansas river. The burning steamer reddening the
atmosphere with brilliant flames of fire, a long line of cavalry fording
the shallow river in three files, the infantry marching by the flank
over the pontoon from which they jumped into the water, forming on
double-quick, first companies, then battalion, whereupon they marched
cheerily, in knee-deep water, under flying banners and to the beat of
regimental music, while the air was filled with shells and balls. Before
the infantry had reached the woods where the batteries of the enemy were
hidden, the latter was already in retreat, and Little Rock soon fell
into our hands.
On our march into the captured city the next morning, the Third regiment
was again accorded the place of honor at the head of the army. It was
designated to act as provost-guard for the purpose of maintaining order,
and the whole regiment was soon quartered in the state capitol. Gen. C.
C. Andrews, who held the position of colonel at that time, was appointed
post commander at Little Rock, and I, who had been promoted to the rank
of lieutenant-colonel soon after the surrender of Vicksburg, took
command of the regiment, whereby it became my duty to maintain law and
order in the captured city. This was an onerous and difficult task, for
it must be remembered that the only executive authority in the southern
states during the war was vested in the army, and especially delegated
to the provost officers and guards. The third regiment was occupied with
this task until the following spring, and performed its duty so well
that the governor of Arkansas, in a message, expressed himself regarding
it, in the following language:
"During the time of their service in our capital good order has
prevailed, and they have commanded the respect of our citizens. When
called upon to meet the enemy they have proven themselves equal to any
task, and reliable in the hour of imminent danger. Such men are an honor
to our government and the cause which they serve. Their state may
justly feel proud of them, and they will prove themselves to be worthy
sons of the same wherever duty calls them."
Toward Christmas I was ordered to Fort Snelling, with a detachment of
officers and non-commissioned officers, for the purpose of recruiting
our decimated ranks. I remained on this duty till the month of March,
and then returned with four hundred recruits. Shortly afterwards the
battle of Fitzhugh's Woods, near Augusta, Arkansas, was fought, and the
regiment distinguished itself by very gallant conduct. During the stay
in Little Rock most of the soldiers had re-enlisted for three years, or
until the close of the war, whereby we acquired the title of "Veteran
Regiment." But that was not the only distinction which was conferred on
our men. A large number of young soldiers had been promoted from the
ranks to be officers in several negro regiments, which were organized in
Tennessee and Arkansas, and some as officers of new regiments of our
own state. Col. Andrews had meanwhile been promoted to the rank of
brigadier-general, and, in April, 1864, I was promoted to colonel of the
regiment in his place, and was shortly afterward ordered to march with
its eight hundred men to Pine Bluff, on the Arkansas river.
From this time until the beginning of August the regiment experienced
such hardships and sufferings from diseases and hard service, that it
sustained far greater losses from these causes than any other regiment
from our state had met with in open battle. Pine Bluff was a veritable
pest-hole; the water was of a greenish color, the air full of germs of
disease and poisonous vapors. Continually surrounded and threatened by a
vigilant enemy, the exhausted and sickly soldiers had to get up at three
o'clock every morning for the purpose of working at the entrenchments
and strengthening and protecting our position in different ways.
Meanwhile the number of those fit for duty was daily decreasing at an
appalling rate. The hospitals were overcrowded with patients, and the
few men left for duty were continually occupied in caring for the sick
and burying the dead, until there were not men enough left to bury their
dead comrades, and I was obliged to ask a regiment, which had recently
arrived, to help us perform that sad duty.
At this critical moment I received orders from Washington to take six
companies to Minnesota, on a six weeks' veteran furlough, to which the
regiment was entitled. Those went who were able to. Many died on the
way, but those of us who survived until we reached Minnesota were soon
restored to usual health and strength, so that we could return in due
time and again take part in the campaign in Arkansas. The remaining four
companies, which had been furloughed the previous winter, were ordered
from Pine Bluff to Duvall's Bluff, on White river, where the whole
regiment was reunited under my command in the beginning of October, and
remained in winter quarters until the spring of 1865.
Shortly after our return to Arkansas I assumed command of the First
Brigade, First Division, Seventh army corps. This brigade consisted of
my own regiment, the Twelfth Michigan, the Sixty-first Illinois, and a
United States colored regiment. Our prospects for remaining in winter
quarters for several months being favorable, many of the higher officers
sent for their wives. I did the same, having first erected a comfortable
log house for us. My wife and two little children arrived a few days
before Christmas, and stayed in the camp the whole winter. No important
event took place during the winter, excepting that we were once ordered
to make an expedition up White river, with a considerable force of
cavalry and infantry, and, after a fatiguing march, succeeded in
breaking up a camp of irregular Confederate troops, and taking many
prisoners.
I will relate two incidents which took place near Duvall's Bluff, one of
a serious, the other of a comic nature.
The first was the shooting of a young soldier of the Twenty-second Ohio
regiment, who time and again had deserted his post, and finally joined a
band of rebel marauders. It became my sad duty to execute the sentence
of death. My brigade formed a hollow square, facing inward, and the
doomed man, a strong, handsome youth of twenty years, sat on a coffin in
an open ambulance, which was driven slowly along the inside of the
square, while a band marched in front of the wagon playing a funeral
march. After the completion of this sad march the deserter was placed in
the middle of the square, in front of the coffin, with his eyes
blind-folded. A detachment of twelve men under a sergeant now fired
simultaneously, upon the signal of the provost marshal. Eight rifles
were loaded with balls, and the unfortunate young man fell backwards
into his coffin and died without a struggle.
[Illustration: SHOOTING A DESERTER.]
One day while taking a ride on horseback in company with my wife, who
had a fine saddle horse, and had become an expert rider during her long
stay in the camp, we galloped mile after mile along the fine plain,
outside of the picket-lines where men of my own brigade were on guard,
till at last we found ourselves several miles from the place where we
had passed through our lines. Returning toward camp, we struck the
picket line at a point where a recently arrived regiment was stationed,
and where the ground was soft and marshy. Being challenged by the guard
I answered who I was, but as he could not plainly distinguish my uniform
in the twilight and did not know me personally, he ordered us, with
leveled gun, to stand still until he could call the officer of the
guard. It was no easy matter to obey his orders, for the horses
continually sank down in the soft ground, but finally the officer
arrived, and we succeeded in getting to the camp without further
trouble. I was not the first officer who thus got into trouble by
neglecting to write out a pass for himself.
On a fine April day, which can never be forgotten, the news came that
our president, Abraham Lincoln, had been murdered. Stricken with
consternation I hurried down to the Third regiment in person to tell the
sad news. Never, either before or since, have I witnessed such a scene
as the one that followed. Some of the men went completely wild with
sorrow, weather-beaten veterans, embracing each other, wept aloud,
others swore and cursed. In the prison yard, which was guarded by men
belonging to my regiment, a rebel prisoner took off his cap, waived it
in the air and cried, "Hurrah for Booth!" A man by the name of Stark
immediately loaded his gun and shot the rebel dead on the spot. Many
others, both inside and outside the camp, were shot because they
expressed joy at the death of Lincoln. Passions were strong, and all
tolerance and patience exhausted among the Union soldiers on that
occasion. The main army of the Confederates had already surrendered
when this calamity occurred, and the war was in fact over. A few days
afterward we sent our families home.