“ON TO RICHMOND.”
Gen. Grant, having decided to change his base of operations, directed Gen.
Hancock on the 20th to move his corps to the left as soon after dark as
practicable. Gen. Horace Porter, who was one of Grant’s aides, says that
he purposely detached the Second Corps from the rest of the army, his
object being to tempt Lee to attack them.
Of course we poor mortals in the ranks knew nothing of the plans. The
privates, nor even the drummer boys, are seldom consulted in such matters.
Probably if we had been told, in our then used-up condition, that we were
setting out on a march that was to last all night and through the next day
we should have felt that we could never endure it.
Before starting on the march our regiment was formally assigned to service
with General Hancock the “Superb,” and his Second Corps, and it has always
been a pride with me that the fortunes of war cast our lot with such a
matchless leader.
If in my reminiscences I seem to be partial to this organization, I hope
my comrades who fought bravely under other standards will forgive me. I
mean no comparison. I am speaking of my own, and should we not love our
own the best?
When we started, orders were passed through the different regiments that
there must not be any talking or any unnecessary noise, and the officers
took pains to impress upon us that the rebel cavalry might dash among us
at any moment.
We marched for a long time down a densely wooded road. The night was a
beautiful one with the moon, low in the sky, shining in our faces as we
plodded along the road.
NAPS ON THE MARCH.
I made the discovery that night that one could sleep walking. Don’t you
believe it? Ask any old soldier. But one would hardly get into a nice nap
before there would be a halt away up at the head of the column and several
thousand men would go bumping into each other.
Then everybody would drop right down in the road and try to get a rest
there, but before we could get two winks it would be “fall in, fall in,
boys,” and away we would go again.
A FUNNY PANIC.
A most ludicrous incident occurred during our march that night. A halt of
perhaps five minutes had permitted nearly all of us to drop off into the
arms of morpheus when some general’s pack horse broke away from the rest
and came tearing down the lines, his load of camp kettles and other
culinary equipage making a great clattering and creating something of a
panic. When I awoke I was running through the woods about three or four
rods from the road, and everybody else was doing likewise. One of our band
boys ran into a tree and smashed his horn. Others lost their caps,
blankets, etc., and we were a very demoralized lot of soldiers for a few
moments. But order was soon restored and the march was continued the
balance of the night without any other event worthy of note.
About daybreak we heard musketry, and our brigade, which was then
commanded by Gen. Nelson A. Miles, was rushed forward to support the
cavalry, who were having a brisk little skirmish with the enemy at Guinea
station. The rebels were routed, however, without the infantry firing a
shot.
We halted long enough to make coffee and then resumed the march, passing
that day through a part of the state that had not been ravaged by war.
IN A BEAUTIFUL LAND.
We marched along beautifully shaded roadways, and the air was fragrant
with May blossoms. Herds of cattle grazed in luxuriant pastures.
The homes of the people were comfortable and everything looked peaceful
and inviting to the thousands of poor, tired soldiers as they went
marching by.
We only made one halt during the day, which was an intensely hot one.
Strong men fell down by the roadside from sheer exhaustion, but the rear
guards would drive them on when they came along, for to be left behind was
certain capture, and there was not ambulance accommodations enough for the
wounded.
Late in the afternoon we reached Milford and, crossing the Mattapony river
at that point, intrenched ourselves on the south side, remaining there the
next day, which gave us a much needed rest and afforded us an opportunity
to bathe in the river.
It is said the Mattapony was so named because it is made up from four
small streams which are called respectively, the: Mat-Ta-Po-Ny.
I was feeling quite down in the mouth, so to speak, when we halted that
night, for when I had been taking a little nap in the shade of a rail
fence at our midday halt some miscreant had stolen my haversack containing
five days’ rations. But, thanks to my big hearted comrade, I did not
suffer for food as long as he had a mouthful.
A GOOD CHUM.
“Will” Coleman was a comrade worth having. A little older than I, of
splendid physique and health, brave, jolly and unselfish, and one who
would stand by you until the last. All through the long marches, hardships
and battles incident to the campaigns from Spottsylvania to Appomattox we
shared our rations, drank from the same canteen and slept under the same
blanket. Words are inadequate to express what such comradeship means. No
crucible ever tested metal more thoroughly than army life tested human
character.
Some that much had been expected of, when put to the test, shrunk in our
estimation. Other modest souls developed into heroes when occasion
demanded.
It was a grand experience and I believe with few exceptions all the
survivors have been better men therefor.
THREE FAMOUS LEADERS.
On May 23 we resumed our march and Gens. Grant and Meade rode with Gen.
Hancock at the head of our corps in the forenoon.
We reached the North Anna river in the afternoon and found the enemy in
force with plenty of batteries in position on the south side. A spirited
artillery duel took place and about six o’clock in the evening Gen.
Hancock ordered an assault on the enemy, who had possession of the two
bridges. They were driven across the river, but held the south end of one
bridge during the night and made several attempts to burn it, but a heavy
thunder shower came up and partly frustrated their efforts.
We all got a thorough drenching, for we had no tents and had to lie on the
ground and take it.
In the morning it was found that the enemy had abandoned their advanced
works near the river and our division crossed over and prepared to attack
them, but their intrenchments were found so strong the design was
abandoned.
A FAMINE AND A FEAST.
The supply trains had failed to connect with the army, and we were almost
destitute of rations. I heard many offers of fifty cents to one dollar for
a hard tack. The only thing my chum and I had to eat in the forenoon was
some corn we found scattered on the ground where horses had been fed.
In the afternoon the irrepressible Coleman went on a foraging expedition
and brought back a small chicken, a piece of veal and a “hoe cake,” which
made us a good meal.
That night the army recrossed the river again and we started out on
another of our all-night marches with mud in places half way to our knees.
All of our movements that summer took the form of a half circle. We used
to march twenty or thirty miles to change the front of not more than
one-fourth of that distance, and the boys very appropriately called the
movements “Slewing to the left.”
The afternoon after leaving the North Anna river we brought up at the
Pamunky, which we crossed on pontoon bridges. The enemy was strongly
entrenched not far from the river and fired on our skirmishers. Everything
indicated hot work. Our regiment was ordered into an advanced position and
we built breastworks in plain sight of our adversaries, expecting that
they would open on us with their artillery every moment, but for some
reason they did not do so.
AN ASSAULT.
Early the next day our division, led by Gen. Francis C. Barlow--and a
braver soldier never lived--assaulted the rebel lines and to do so had to
cross a swampy ravine fully exposed to the fire of the enemy, who were
protected by earthworks. The losses of our troops were severe.
INVITED TO COME FORWARD.
The musicians of our regiment were back under the cover of some woods and
while the engagement was at its height we saw big George B.--our sergeant
major--coming across the field on a run toward us. George explained his
mission in a few words, which were about as follows:
“Col. Whistler wants you boys to come up on the fighting line and help the
surgeons take care of our wounded, and you better come p. d. q., too, for
the old man was pretty mad when he missed you.”
It is needless to say we got there lively, but while we were carrying some
wounded past our brigade commander he remarked that we were endangering
their lives more by trying to remove them during an engagement than to
leave them on the ground until the fighting was over.
We thought it the safest, however, to obey our colonel, and after that we
took good care that he did not have to send an officer to hunt us up.
The casualties of our regiment in this engagement, which was called the
battle of Totopotomy, were seven killed and seventy-seven wounded.
THE REBEL YELL.
It is seldom that one in the ranks has a chance to see much of a battle
except what may be happening in his own regiment. Such an opportunity came
to my chum and me at Totopotomy the afternoon of May 31st, 1864, when we
witnessed the charge in open field of a Confederate division and heard for
the first time the real Rebel yell, which was so unlike the cheers of the
Union soldiers.
After the assault of our division in the forenoon, matters settled down
and there was comparative quiet for a couple of hours. About 2 o’clock we
heard some lively cannonading over to the right and Coleman, who was one
of those boys that always wanted to see all that was going on, suggested
that we walk over that way. We found a battery of artillery in an advanced
position shelling a piece of woods. The captain sat upon a camp stool
dressed in a white duck suit and gave directions to his men as though it
was target practice. We two boys stood on the earthworks and watched the
effect of the exploding shells as they cut off the limbs of the trees or
ploughed up the sod in the field in front of the woods. We learned from
the artillerymen that the Confederates were massing troops preparatory to
making a charge. Soon the rebel yell broke loose and a long line of gray
came out of the woods and moved forward in perfect formation. Not a
soldier wavered. The scene was thrilling and we were quite unmindful of
the fact that our position was a dangerous one. The Confederate troops
were supported by a number of pieces of artillery and the gunners had a
perfect range on our battery and their shells were soon bursting all about
us. Coleman and I quit our sight-seeing from the top of the breastworks
and got down behind them, peeping out occasionally to watch the movements
of the advancing enemy. When they had got within close range our battery
opened on them with case shot and cannister, cutting swaths in the ranks
of the advancing forces, but they would close up and come on and it looked
as though the battery was lost. The captain had received orders to
withdraw, but it was too late for him to get away with his guns so he
concluded to stay and do the best he could. Several of his horses were
killed and disabled and one of the caissons was blown up. Just when it
looked as though the rebels were going to sweep everything before them we
heard a loud, long cheer and a division of the gallant old 5th Corps
double-quicked out to meet them and turned the tide the other way, and
soon the Johnnies were in full retreat. They left many dead and wounded in
our front, Gen. Ramsey being among the killed.
This was one of the most spectacular engagements that I ever witnessed and
was about the only one where I had a good opportunity to watch the effects
of artillery fire directed against a charging column. Need I say that it
was not necessary to keep a diary of such experiences. They were indelibly
impressed on my memory as I doubt not they were on that of all other
participants.