TO PETERSBURG.
On the night of June 12, ’64, the withdrawal of the army from the trenches
at Cold Harbor began. The picket lines were not disturbed until the army
were several hours under way.
Of course there were all sorts of rumors as to where we were bound for.
Many were of the opinion that we were going to White House landing and
take transports for Washington, but Grant was not that kind of a general.
He had started out to destroy Lee’s army and he was going to keep
hammering away until they were licked.
The march from Cold Harbor was a hard one. It is a great wonder how men
could bear up under the hardship, considering what they had gone through
for several weeks.
No halt was made until morning, and after we had made coffee we were
hurried on again. Would-be stragglers were forced along at the point of
the bayonet.
Before we left Cold Harbor our colonel had given orders that all of the
drummer boys who were without drum should be given a gun, but I was
excused from carrying one on this march because of an injury caused by
falling in a trench while removing wounded from between the lines one
night. My father tried in vain to get me a chance to ride in an ambulance
or wagon; there were not accommodations enough for the badly wounded.
We arrived at Wilcox’s Landing; on the James river the night of the 13th,
where a pontoon bridge 2,000 feet long had been laid across the river.
The next morning the army crossed over, and it was a sight to stir the
sensibilities of even a weary soldier, to see the thousands marching
across the river, all in battle array. The water was dotted with tugs,
gunboats and transports loaded with troops, and what made it more
impressive to me was the thought that it was a real genuine thing and not
a mere show.
A FORCED MARCH WITHOUT RATIONS.
It was expected that our haversacks would be replenished after we crossed
the river, but Gen. Hancock received a dispatch from Meade, ordering him
to march his command without delay to Petersburg. We started between 10
and 11 o’clock and at 6:30 that evening Hancock reported to Gen. Smith,
commander of the 18th corps, whose troops had already engaged the enemy
and captured some of the outer defenses of the city.
We relieved Smith’s troops in the front line of works under the cover of
darkness, and it was nearly midnight before we were in position and could
lie down.
THE BATTLE OPENS.
At daylight Gen. Hancock ordered his brigade and division commanders to
make reconnoissances in the front and the enemy was forced back all along
the lines.
Our regiment advanced through a peach orchard, exposed to a scathing fire
of musketry.
Col. Whistler was struck in the face by a bullet, while superintending the
deploying of skirmishers, but was not disabled so but that he remained
with the regiment, but it did make him fighting mad, and as he walked up
and down the line with the blood dropping all over the front of his
clothes he indulged in “cuss” words of the most expressive kind.
After the fighting quieted down, Adjt. Brazee persuaded him to go to the
rear. He was breveted brigadier general for his conduct that day, and
given command of a brigade after his recovery. (Maj. Whistler of the
regular army is a son of the officer mentioned.)
Capt. Barry, the favorite officer of the line in our regiment, was killed
that morning, and the beloved commander of the Irish brigade, Col. Patrick
Kelly, one of the best officers of the 2d corps, fell with the colors in
hands while leading his men in a charge on a rebel fort.
The balance of the army not having arrived Gen. Meade ordered Hancock to
hold his position until evening, when a general attack would be made.
A HOT PLACE.
Our regiment had been in some pretty hot places that summer, but the
position that day was a little nearer the infernal regions than we had
ever been before. A low stone wall was our only protection from the enemy,
who were well intrenched in some woods about 75 yards distant across an
open field.
Behind us the ground sloped down to a little brook which had its waters
reddened with the blood of thousands of boys in blue a few hours later.
Several batteries were massed in the rear of us and they kept up a furious
cannonading to detract attention from the movements of the troops
elsewhere.
The air was full of hissing shells, which passed so close to us that we
could feel their hot breath, and one would involuntarily clap his hand to
his head expecting his cap to be swept off. Our position was so near the
enemy that occasionally a shell would burst over us, wounding some of our
men. Lieut. Col. Palmer of our regiment was so wounded, a ball from a
spherical cased shell striking him in the breast and, passing through his
body, lodged back of the shoulder blade.
Palmer sat down under a tree and told our surgeon to cut it out. The
doctor suggested that he better take something for the operation. But
Palmer’s grit was of the right sort and taking off his slouch hat he
slapped the ground with it and said: “Go ahead, doc, and cut the damned
thing out, and be lively about it, too, for others need your attention.”
Finally the casualties became so numerous that Maj. McKay went to the
artillery officer and told him he was killing off our own men and if he
did not cut his fuses longer he would order his regiment to take the
battery, and when a little later a staff officer rode over and ordered the
major under arrest he found out that a captain of a battery was one not to
be fooled with when in line of duty.
RATIONS AND A CLOSE CALL.
In the afternoon we heard the welcome news that rations were waiting us in
the rear and details were made from the several companies to go after
them.
The writer went with Sergt. “West” Powell and the squad from our company.
In order to get back to the supply trains it was necessary for us to cross
several open spaces fully exposed to the fire of the confederates.
When we came to such a place we would separate, run a few yards and throw
ourselves on the ground, while the bullets would go whizzing over our
heads.
On our return each one carried a rubber blanket slung over his shoulder,
containing rations for our hungry comrades. While we were creeping along
close to an abandoned earthwork a shell struck the bank and exploding,
hurled dirt and gravel over and about us.
Something struck me on the side of my head and thinking I was shot I fell
on the ground and called to my companions. They gathered around and on
examination found I was sound except for a discolored spot and a stinging
sensation probably caused by a small stone striking me.
My nerves were thoroughly shattered, however, and it took some minutes for
me to muster up courage to get on my feet and face the music again.
MEMORIES OF AN IMPRESSIVE SCENE.
The 5th and 9th corps caught up with the army that day and while we were
back at the wagon train we saw them marching into position on the left of
our corps preparatory to the assault that was delivered later in the day.
Two-fifths of a century has passed since the roar of the conflict that
raged before Petersburg was hushed. The commanders of the opposing armies,
indeed, most of the great actors, are dead, while a large portion of the
rank and file have answered the last roll-call, but the impressiveness of
that scene is still fresh in my memory. As I write it all comes back to
me. The long lines of blue with their glistening bayonets; the gleaming
sabres of the cavalry; the tattered banners. On a little knoll was Gen.
Warren the gallant commander of the 5th Corps sitting sidewise on his
horse with field glass in hand surrounded by staff officers and couriers.
The artillery was thundering. The rattle and roar of musketry along the
lines was constant, and when the sun had dropped behind the horizon at the
close of that day thousands of the blue and the gray were stretched out
all over the fields.
And the stars in Heaven, that night, looked down on scenes of suffering
and horror that it is impossible to describe.
June 17 was a day full of stirring events. The fighting was desperate and
alternated between the different divisions and corps. Gen. Burnside’s 9th
corps had the honors of the day, capturing several redans, a number of
pieces of artillery and several hundred prisoners with their colors.
June 18, Gen. Grant ordered another general assault, which resulted in
heavy losses and no success. Ten thousand men were killed and wounded in
the three days’ effort to capture Petersburg by direct assault. I find in
Fox’s statistics of regimental losses that he credits our regiment with
54 killed and 218 wounded and missing in the three days’ conflict, and
many commands fared worse.
The killed, wounded and missing of our regiment from May 18 to June 23d,
were according to Fox, 584.
The troops were now thoroughly exhausted, owing to the incessant
movements, both day and night, for about six weeks. There had not been 24
hours in which they had not been in close contact with the enemy. The
confederates acting on the defensive had been spared the long circuitous
marches as well as the costly experiences of assaulting intrenchments.
Gen. Humphreys, who was chief of staff of the Army of the Potomac in 1864,
placed the losses of the army from May 4 to June 19 as 61,400, of which
50,000 were killed and wounded.
RESTING WHERE THERE IS NO REST.
We rested three days, if it can be called rest where there is a constant
interchange of shots so that one was liable to get a bullet through his
head if it was exposed above the breastworks.
At night the artillery indulged in duels and the shots could be seen
traveling in the air. The curves of the shells from the mortars reminded
us of the Fourth of July rockets and the boys called it their display of
fireworks.
What the men suffered that summer in the trenches before Petersburg none
will ever know except those who experienced the hardships.
We had no tents except the little shelter tents and probably one-half of
the men were without those, consequently we had to resort to all kinds of
contrivances to get shelter. Some dug individual bombproofs which not only
furnished protection from the sun but were proof against any stray piece
of shell that might drop among us. Our clothing had been worn for weeks,
bathing was out of the question and cooking had to be done far in the
rear.
Life in camp with plenty of well cooked rations, sufficient tent
accommodations, extra clothing, plenty of water for cooking and bathing
and life in the trenches in close contact with the enemy is quite another
story.
TESTING THE METAL.
Constant marching, fighting and digging trenches for several weeks is the
kind of soldiering that weeds the chaff out of a regiment, and it was
noticeable that many officers who had been conspicuous on dress parades
and reviews at Washington had failed to toe the mark when put to the test.
“SLEWING” TO THE LEFT AGAIN.
On the evening of the 21st our corps was ordered to move to the left and
the 9th corps took its place in the trenches. The movement was for the
purpose of extending the lines and getting possession, if possible, of the
Weldon and South Side railroads, and, as usual, the 2d corps was selected
to lead.
Gen. Birney was temporarily in command of the corps, Gen. Hancock’s wound
giving him so much trouble that he had to take a few days’ rest.
The 6th corps had been ordered to support the 2d, but owing to the thick
woods in the vicinity of the railroad the corps became separated and the
confederates under Gen. A. P. Hill slipped in between the two commands and
the first intimation we had of their presence was a furious firing on the
flank and rear of our division which caused much confusion. So sudden and
unexpected was the attack that part of several regiments and their colors
were captured and Gen. Gibbons’ second division lost four cannon.
The next morning the lost ground was regained and in this position we
remained some time, erecting Forts Davis and Sedgwick, which were about a
half mile apart south of the old Jerusalem plank road.
CELEBRATING THE FOURTH.
The Fourth of July, 1864, our bands played “Yankee Doodle” and other
national airs, while strains of “Dixie,” “My Maryland,” etc., floated over
from the rebel side. In the evening the usual artillery duels furnished
fireworks for the occasion.
The lines were farther apart where we were at this time than over on the
right near the Appomattox River, and the pickets used to meet on friendly
terms under the cover of darkness. Of course there were strict orders
against it, but they were disobeyed nightly and the men met and swapped
stories, coffee for tobacco, newspapers, etc., and went back to their
lines and were shooting at each other again the next day.
LINCOLN AT THE FRONT.
President Lincoln made a visit to the front about this time and was
enthusiastically received.
The men knew by his looks, his kind words to the sick and wounded that he
was in deep sympathy with them, and I think his presence was of untold
benefit to the rank and file of the army.
DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.
The only man I ever saw drummed out of camp was down in front of
Petersburg. He was a coward, and large placards proclaiming the fact were
suspended from his neck, one on his breast and the other on his back, his
head was shaved and a fifer and drummer marched him all through the
division to the tune of the “Rogue’s March,” and then he was given a
dishonorable discharge and sent home.
CAVALRY VS. HEAVY ARTILLERY.
Among the deserters from our company when we were in the forts, at
Washington, was one whom we met more than a year later.
One day, on the march as we were taking a few moments rest by the roadside
a regiment of cavalry came along and halted opposite us. All at once one
of our boys exclaimed “Well, I’ll be blowed if there isn’t Sam P----,” and
sure enough there was our long lost Sam sitting astride of a horse.
“Hello, Sam!” was shouted by several of his old comrades, and one ventured
to ask what he had left his first love for?
Sam’s reply was about as follows: “I was willing to serve my country, but
I’m cussed if I ever liked that heavy infantry business. It was a dirty,
mean trick for them to enlist us for flying artillery and then change to
heavy, and I didn’t propose to tread mud with a big knapsack on my back, a
musket and 40 rounds of ammunition, so I just transferred myself to the
cavalry.”
About this time the bugles sounded “forward” and as Sam rode away with the
dusty troopers he called out; “Good-bye old company H,” and that was the
last we ever saw of him, but I doubt not he rendered good service in the
cause for he was not a bad fellow, even if he did prefer cavalry to heavy
artillery.