THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE--CONTINUED
Recurring again to the incident of the band playing out there between
the two hostile lines in the midst of that panic of the Eleventh Corps,
it was a remarkable circumstance that none of them were killed. I think
one or two were slightly wounded by pieces of exploding shells, and one
or two of their instruments carried away scars from that scene. The
rebels did not follow up their advantage, as we expected, probably owing
to the effective work of our batteries, otherwise they would all have
been either killed or captured. None of the enemy came into our clearing
that I saw. We must have corralled upward of eight thousand of our
demoralized men. Some had their arms, most of them had none, which
confirmed the story of their surprise narrated in the last chapter. They
were marched to the rear under guard, and thus the further spread of the
panic was avoided.
It was now dark and the firing ceased, but only for a few moments, for
the two picket-lines were posted so close together, neither knowing
exactly where the other was, that both were exceedingly nervous; and the
slightest movement, the stepping of a picket, the scurry of a rabbit,
would set the firing going again. First it would be the firing of a
single musket, then the quick rattle of a half-dozen, then the whole
line with the reserves, for all were on the line together there; and
then the batteries, of which there were now at least a half-dozen massed
right around us, would open with terrific vigor, all firing into the
darkness, whence the enemy was supposed to be coming. This continued at
short intervals all night long.
After the mob of fugitives had been disposed of, our division had formed
in line of battle directly in front of the Chancellorsville House,
supporting the provisional line which had been hurriedly thrown in to
cover the break of the Eleventh Corps, and we were "resting (?) on our
arms." At each of these alarms every man was instantly on his feet, with
guns at a "ready." General French and staff were close to us, and
General Couch and his staff only a few feet away. All were exceedingly
nervous and keenly on the alert. It was a night of terrific experience
long to be remembered.
The nervous strain upon all was simply awful. We knew that the Eleventh
Corps had been stampeded by the impetuous charge of Stonewall Jackson,
and we felt sure he would seek to reap the fruits of the break he had
made by an effort to pierce our centre, and this we would have to meet
and repel when it came. We did not then know that in the general mix-up
of that fateful afternoon that able and intrepid leader had himself
fallen and was then dying. This fact, fortunate for us, undoubtedly
accounts for the failure of the expected onset to materialize. We could
probably have held him, for we had two divisions of the Second Corps and
part of the Third Corps in double lines, all comparatively fresh, and
before midnight the First Corps was in position on our right. But the
slaughter would have been horrible.
After midnight these outbursts became less frequent, and we officers lay
down with the men and tried to sleep. I do not think any of our general
officers or their staffs even sat down that whole night, so apprehensive
were they of the descent of the rebels upon our position. I said in the
last chapter that on Saturday morning some beef cattle were slaughtered
near our line for issue to our division; that the work of distribution
had not been completed before the panic came, and then these carcasses
of beef were between ours and the rebel line on "debatable ground." This
was too much for some of our men, and two or three crawled out to them
during the night and helped themselves to such cuts as they could make
from our side. One party next day told of being surprised by hearing
cutting on the other side of the beef, and found, on investigating, that
a "Johnny" was there, when the following colloquy took place:
"Hello, Johnny, are ye there?"
"Yes, Yank; too bad to let this 'fresh' spoil. I say, Yank, lend me your
knife, mine's a poor one. We 'uns and you 'uns is all right here. Yank,
I'll help you if you'll help me, and we'll get all we want."
The knife was passed over, and these two foes helped each other in that
friendly darkness. How much actual truth there was in this story I do
not know, but I do know that there was considerable fresh beef among the
men in the morning, and it was not at all unlikely that the Johnnies
also profited by the presence of that "fresh" between the lines.
Soldiers of either army would run almost any risk to get a bit of fresh
beef.
The next morning we were ordered to pile up our knapsacks and make a
breastwork of them for such protection as they might afford, in
anticipation of the still expected attack. We managed to make a cup of
coffee and eat a hardtack without getting off our guard for an instant,
and about ten o'clock the First Brigade, now Carroll's, and ours,
consisting of two regiments only, the First Delaware and ours, under
command of our Colonel Albright, were ordered forward into the woods to
the right of the Chancellorsville House. This was the opening of the
third day's battle. We moved forward in excellent line until we struck
the edge of the woods. The moment the crackling of the brush under our
feet apprised the enemy of our advance we received a heavy volley, which
must have been very hurriedly delivered, for it passed over our heads,
not a man being hit, I think. The morning was lowering and misty and the
air very light, so that the smoke made by the rebel volley, not more
than fifty yards away, hung like a chalk line and indicated their exact
position. The sudden retirement of our lieutenant-colonel at this point
placed the command of the regiment on me, and I shouted to the men to
aim below that line of smoke and then gave the order, fire by battalion,
and we emptied our guns as one man, reloaded, and receiving no reply to
our volley, moved forward through the thick brush and undergrowth. We
soon came upon the rebel line, and a dreadful sight it was. The first
officer I saw was a rebel captain, an Irishman. He ejaculated, "We're
all killed! We're all killed!" and offered to surrender. The commanding
officer must have suffered the fate of his men. Most of them were either
killed or wounded. The hundred or so living promptly threw down their
arms, and Colonel Albright sent them to the rear under guard. This Irish
captain vouchsafed the remark sotto voce that he was glad to be
captured, that he'd been trying to get out of the d----n Confederacy for
a year. Our battalion volley had exactly reached its mark and had done
fearful execution. There must have been more than two hundred lying
there either dead or wounded, marking their line of battle. This was the
only instance in my war experience where we delivered a volley as a
battalion. The usual order of firing in line of battle is by "file,"
each man firing as rapidly as he can effectively, without regard to any
other man. The volley they had delivered at us was a battalion volley,
and it would have effectively disposed of our advance had it been well
delivered. Fortunately for us, it was not, and their smoke-line gave us
the opportunity to deliver a very effective counter-stroke. It had to be
quickly done, we were so close together. There was no time to meditate.
It was us or them. Instantly I resolved to give them all we could,
aiming well under their line of smoke, and take our chances with the
bayonet if necessary. The order was calmly given and the volley was
coolly delivered. I have never heard a better one. The value of coolness
in delivering and the effectiveness of such a volley were clearly
demonstrated in this instance.
We again moved forward, working our way through the tangled undergrowth,
and had gained probably five or six hundred yards when we encountered
another line, and sharp firing began on both sides. We could see the
enemy dodging behind trees and stumps not more than one hundred yards
away. We also utilized the same shelter, and therefore suffered
comparatively little. Suddenly I found bullets beginning to come from
our left and rear as well as from our front. Two of these bullets had
been aimed at me as I stood behind a small tree on our line. The first
knowledge I had of them was from the splinters of bark in my face from
the tree, first one and then the other in quick succession as the
bullets struck, not more than three inches from my head. They were
fairly good shots. I was thankful they were no better. But now I had to
move a couple of companies to the left to meet this flank attack. It did
not prove a serious matter, and the enemy was quickly driven back. The
same thing was tried shortly after on our right flank, and was again
disposed of the same way. They were probably groups of sharpshooters
hunting for our officers. One of them, I happened to know, never went
back, for I saw one of our sergeants kill him. I was at that moment
standing by him, when he clapped his hand to his ear and exclaimed,
"That was a 'hot one,'" as a bullet just ticked it. "There is the devil
who did it. See him behind that bush?" and with that he aimed and fired.
The fellow rolled over dead.
We soon had the better of this fighting and our opponents withdrew. We
seemed now to be isolated. We must have been nearly a half mile from
where we entered the woods. We could not see nor hear of any troops on
our immediate right or left. Colonel Albright came back to consult as to
what was best to be done now. The brush and undergrowth were exceedingly
dense. What there might be on our right or left we could not know
without sending skirmishers out. The colonel said his orders were to
advance and engage the enemy. No orders had come to him since our
advance commenced, two hours and more before. We had met and beaten two
lines of the enemy. Should we continue the advance or retire and get
further orders? My advice was to retire; that with our small force, not
more than five hundred men, isolated in that dense wood, we were liable
to be gobbled up. The colonel agreed with this view and ordered the line
faced about and marched to the rear. I mention this consultation over
the situation because here we were, two young men, who knew almost
nothing about military matters beyond obeying orders, suddenly called
upon to exercise judgment in a critical situation. Bravery suggested
push ahead and fight. To retire savored of over-prudence. Nevertheless,
it seemed to us we had no business remaining out there without
connection with other troops on either right or left, and this decided
the colonel to order the retreat.
We moved back in line of battle in excellent order and quite leisurely,
having no opposition and, so far as we knew, no troops following us. We
came out into the clearing just where we had entered the woods two hours
before. But here we met a scene that almost froze our blood. During our
absence some half-dozen batteries, forty or more guns, had been massed
here. Hurried earthworks had been thrown up, covering the knapsacks our
brigade had left there when we advanced. These guns were not forty yards
away and were just waiting the order to open on those woods right where
we were. As we emerged from the brush, our colors, fortunately, were a
little in advance, and showed through before the line appeared. Their
timely appearance, we were told, saved us from being literally blown to
pieces by those batteries. A second later the fatal order would have
been given and our brigade would have been wiped out of existence by our
own guns!
As we came out of the woods an aide galloped down to us, his face
perfectly livid, and in a voice portraying the greatest excitement
shouted to Colonel Albright: "What in h----l and d-mnation are you doing
here? Get out of here! Those woods are full of rebel troops, and we are
just waiting to open on them." Albright replied very coolly, "Save your
ammunition. There is not a rebel within a half mile, for we have just
marched back that distance absolutely unmolested. Why haven't you sent
us orders? We went in here two hours ago, and not an order have we
received since." He replied, "We have sent a dozen officers in to you
with orders, and they all reported that you had been captured." Albright
answered, "They were a lot of cowards, for there hasn't been a minute
since we advanced that an officer could not have come directly to us.
There is something wrong about this. I will go and see General Hooker."
And directing me to move the troops away from the front of those guns,
he started for General Hooker's head-quarters, only a short distance
away. As I was passing the right of that line of batteries a voice
hailed me, and I turned, and there stood one of my old Scranton friends,
Captain Frank P. Amsden, in command of his battery. Said he, as he
gripped my hand, "Boy, you got out of those woods just in time. Our guns
are double-shotted with grape and canister; the word 'fire' was just on
my lips when your colors appeared." I saw his gunners standing with
their hands on the lanyards. After forty years my blood almost creeps as
I recall that narrow escape.
We now moved to the rear across the plank-road from the Chancellorsville
House in the woods, where we supported Hancock's line. Colonel Albright
soon returned from his visit to Hooker's head-quarters. His account of
that visit was most remarkable, and was substantially as follows: "I
scratched on the flap of the Hooker head-quarters' tent and instantly an
officer appeared and asked what was wanted. I said I must see General
Hooker, that I had important information for him. He said, 'You cannot
see General Hooker; I am chief of staff; any information you have for
the commanding general should be given to me.' I said, 'I must see
General Hooker,' and with that pushed myself by him into the tent, and
there lay General Hooker, apparently dead drunk. His face and position
gave every indication of that condition, and I turned away sick and
disgusted." It was subsequently stated that General Hooker was
unconscious at that time from the concussion of a shell. That he was
standing on the porch of the Chancellorsville House, leaning against one
of its supports, when a shell struck it, rendering him unconscious. The
incident narrated above occurred about one P.M. on Sunday, May 3. The
army was practically without a commander from this time until after
sundown of that day, when General Hooker reappeared and in a most
conspicuous manner rode around between the lines of the two armies. If
he was physically disabled, why was not the fact made known at once to
the next officer in rank, whose duty it would have been to have assumed
command of the army, and if possible stem the tide of defeat now rapidly
overwhelming us? A half-day of most precious time would have been saved.
That this was not done I happen to know from the following
circumstances.
In our new position we were only about fifty yards behind General
Hancock's line. The head-quarters at this time of General Couch,
commanding our corps; of General French, commanding our division, and of
General Hancock were all at the right of our regiment, behind our line.
These generals and their staffs were resting, as were our troops, and
they were sitting about, only a few feet away from us. We therefore
heard much of their conversation. Directly General Howard joined them. I
well remember his remarks concerning the behavior of his corps on the
previous afternoon. His chagrin was punctured with the advice of old
French to shoot a few dozen of them for example's sake. Naturally, the
chief subject of their conversation related to the present situation. It
was perfectly clear they regarded it as very critical. We could hear
heavy cannonading in the distance towards Fredericksburg. Several times
Hancock broke out with a savage oath as he impatiently paced up and
down, swinging his sword. "They are knocking Sedgwick to pieces. Why
don't we go forward?" or a similar ejaculation, and then, "General
Couch, why do you not assume command and order us forward? It is your
duty." (The latter was next in rank to Hooker.)
To which General Couch replied, "I cannot assume command." French and
Howard agreed with Hancock, but Couch remained imperturbable, saying,
"When I am properly informed that General Hooker is disabled and not in
command, I shall assume the duty which will devolve upon me." And so
hour after hour passed of inactivity at this most critical juncture.
They said it was plain Lee was making simply a show of force in our
front whilst he had detached a large part of his army and was driving
Sedgwick before him down at Fredericksburg. Now, why this period of
inactivity whilst Sedgwick was being punished? Why this interregnum in
the command? When Colonel Albright returned from his call at Hooker's
tent, narrated above, he freely expressed his opinion that Hooker's
condition was as stated above. His views were then generally believed by
those about head-quarters, and this was understood as the reason why the
next officer in rank was not officially notified of his chief's
disability and the responsibility of the command placed upon him.
Nothing was then said about the concussion of a shell. It is profoundly
to be hoped that Colonel Albright's impression was wrong, and that the
disability was produced, as alleged, by concussion of a shell. If so,
there was a very grave dereliction of duty on the part of his chief of
staff in not imparting the fact immediately to General Couch, the
officer next in rank, and devolving the command upon him.
In our new position on the afternoon of Sunday, the third day's battle,
we were subjected to a continuous fire of skirmishers and sharpshooters,
without the ability of replying. We laid up logs for a barricade and
protected ourselves as well as we could. Several were wounded during
the afternoon, among them Captain Hall, of Company I. His was a most
singular wound. We were all lying prone upon the ground, when suddenly
he spoke rather sharply and said he had got a clip on his knee. He said
it was an insignificant flesh wound, but his leg was benumbed. He tried
to step on it, but could not bear his weight on it, and very soon it
became exceedingly painful, and his ankle swelled to double its natural
size. He was taken back to one of the hospitals, where it was found a
minie-ball had entered his leg above the knee and passed down between
the bones to the ankle, where it was removed. This practically ended the
service of one of the youngest of our captains, a brave and brilliant
young officer.
Towards night a cold, drizzling rain set in, which chilled us to our
bones. We could not have any fires, not even to make our coffee, for
fear of disclosing our position to the enemy. For four days now we had
been continuously under the terrible nervous strain incident to a battle
and practically without any rest or sleep. During this time we had no
cooked food, nothing but hardtack and raw pork and coffee but once. This
condition began to tell upon us all. I had been under the weather when
the movement began, and was ordered by our surgeon to remain behind, but
I said no, not as long as I could get around. Now I found my strength
had reached its limit, and I took that officer's advice, with the
colonel's orders, and went back to the division field hospital to get
under cover from the rain and get a night's sleep if possible.
I found a half-dozen hospital tents standing together as one hospital,
and all full to overflowing with sick and wounded men. Our brigade
surgeon, a personal friend, was in charge. He finally found a place for
me just under the edge of one of the tents, where I could keep part of
the rain off. He brought me a stiff dose of whiskey and quinine, the
universal war remedy, and I drank it and lay down, and was asleep in
less time than it takes me to write it.
About midnight the surgeon came and aroused me with the information that
the army was moving back across the river, and that all in the hospital
who could march were ordered to make their way back as best they could;
that of the others the ambulances would carry all they could and the
others would be left. This was astounding information. My first impulse
was, of course, to return to my regiment, but the doctor negatived that
emphatically by saying, "You are under my orders here, and my
instructions are to send you all directly back to the ford and across
the river; and then the army is already on the march, and you might as
well attempt to find a needle in a haystack as undertake to find your
regiment in these woods in this darkness." If his first reason had not
been sufficient, the latter one was quite convincing. I realized at once
the utter madness of any attempt to reach the regiment, at the same time
that in this night tramp back over the river, some eight miles, I had a
job that would tax my strength to the utmost. The doctor had found one
of the men of our regiment who was sick, and bidding us help each other
started us back over the old plank-road.
How shall I describe the experiences of that night's tramp? The night
was intensely dark and it was raining hard. The plank-road was such
only in name. What few remnants remained of the old planks were rotten
and were a constant menace to our footing. I must have had more than a
dozen falls during that march from those broken planks, until face,
arms, and legs were a mass of bruises. We were told to push forward as
rapidly as we could to keep ahead of the great rabble of sick and
wounded which was to follow immediately. This we tried to do, though the
road was now crowded with the occupants of the other hospitals already
on their way. These men were all either sick or wounded, and were making
their way with the greatest difficulty, most of them in silence, but
there was an occasional one whose tongue gave expression to every
possible mishap in outbursts of the most shocking profanity. There were
enough of these to make the night hideous.
Our road was a track just wide enough to admit a single wagon through
the densest jungle of timber and undergrowth I ever saw. I cannot
imagine the famed jungles of Africa more dense or impenetrable, and it
seemed to be without end as we wearily plodded on hour after hour, now
stepping into a hole and sprawling in the mud, again stumbling against a
stolid neighbor and being in turn jostled by him, with an oath for being
in his way. Many a poor fellow fell, too exhausted to rise, and we were
too nearly dead to do more than mechanically note the fact.
Towards morning a quartette of men overtook us carrying a man on their
shoulders. As they drew near us one of the forward pair stumbled and
fell, and down came the body into the mud with a swash. If the body was
not dead, the fall killed it, for it neither moved nor uttered a sound.
With a fearful objurgation they went on and left it, and we did not have
life enough left in us to make any investigation. It was like the case
of a man on the verge of drowning seeing others perishing without the
ability to help. It was a serious question whether we could pull
ourselves through or should be obliged to drop in our tracks, to be run
over and crushed or trampled to death, as many a poor fellow was that
night. We had not an ounce of strength, nor had any of the hundreds of
others in our condition, to bestow on those who could not longer care
for themselves. Here it was every man for himself. This night's
experience was a horrible nightmare.
It was long after daylight when we crawled out of those woods and
reached United States ford. Here a pontoon bridge had been thrown over,
and a double column of troops and a battery of artillery were crossing
at the same time. We pushed ourselves into the throng, as to which there
was no semblance of order, and were soon on the other side. On the top
of the bluff, some one hundred feet above the river, on our side, we
noticed a hospital tent, and we thought if we could reach that we might
find shelter and rest, for it was still raining and we were drenched to
the skin, and so cold that our faces were blue and our teeth chattered.
A last effort landed us at this hospital. Alas for our hopes! it was
crowded like sardines in a box with others who in like condition had
reached it before us. I stuck my head in the tent. One glance was
enough. The surgeon in charge, in answer to our mute appeal, said, "God
help you, boys; I cannot. But here is a bottle of whiskey, take a good
drink; it will do you good." We took a corking dose, nearly half the
bottle, and lay down, spoon fashion, my comrade and I, by the side of
that tent in the rain and slept for about an hour, until the stimulus of
the liquor passed off and the cold began again to assert itself, when we
had to start on again. I have never had any use for liquors in my life,
and the use of them in any form as a beverage I consider as nothing else
than harmful in the highest degree, yet I have always felt that this big
dose of whiskey saved my life. Could we have had a good cup of hot
coffee at that time it would possibly have been better, but we might as
well have looked for lodgings in the Waldorf-Astoria as for coffee at
that time and place. Imagine my feelings during all this night as I
reflected that I had a good horse, overcoat, and gum blanket
somewhere,--yes, somewhere, back, or wherever my regiment might be,--and
here I was soaking wet, chilled to the bones and almost dead from
tramping.
We got word at the Ford that the troops were to go back to their old
camps, and there was nothing for us to do but to make our way back there
as best we might. Soon after we started Colonel (afterwards Judge Dana,
of Wilkes-Barre) Dana's regiment passed. The colonel hailed me and
kindly inquired why I happened to be there by myself on foot, said I
looked most wretched, and insisted on my taking another bracer from a
little emergency stock he had preserved. I had been but a few months out
of his law office, from which I had been admitted to the bar. His kindly
attentions under these limited circumstances were very cheering and
helpful. We were all day covering the eight or more miles back to camp.
But early in the day the rain ceased, the sun came out, we got warmed up
marching, and after some hours our clothes became sufficiently dry to be
more comfortable, so that when we reached camp in the evening our
condition was much improved. This was due in part probably as much to
the relief from the awful nervous strain of the battle and the
conditions through which we had passed in that wilderness as to rest and
the changed weather. When we reached this side of the river that nervous
strain ceased. We were sure that fighting was over, at least for the
present. We found the regiment had been in camp some hours ahead of us.
Our corps was probably on the march when we left the hospital, and had
preceded us all the way back. I found my horse had brought back one of
our wounded men, and this was some compensation for my own loss.
We had been gone on this campaign from the 29th of April until the 5th
of May, and such a week! How much that was horrible had been crowded
into it. For variety of experiences of the many dreadful sides of war,
that week far exceeded any other like period of our service. The
fighting was boy's play compared with either Antietam or Fredericksburg,
yet for ninety-six hours continuously we were under the terrible nervous
strain of battle. Our losses in this action were comparatively light, 2
men killed, 2 officers wounded (one of whom died a few days later), and
39 men wounded, and one man missing; total loss, 44, or about fifteen
per cent. of the number we took into action. This missing man I met at
the recent reunion of our regiment. He was picked up from our skirmish
line by that flanking party of rebels on the third day's fight described
in my last. The circumstance will show how close the rebels were upon us
before we discovered them. Our skirmishers could not have been more than
a dozen yards in advance of our main line, yet the thicket was so dense
that the enemy was on him before he fairly realized it. He said he was
placed with a lot of other prisoners and marched to the rear some
distance, under guard, when a fine-looking Confederate officer rode up
to them. He was told it was General Lee. He said he wore long, bushy
whiskers and addressed them with a cheery,--
"Good-morning, boys. What did you come down here for? a picnic? You
didn't think you could whip us men of the South, did you?"
One of the prisoners spoke up in reply,--
"Yes, d----n you, we did, and we will. You haven't won this fight yet,
and Joe Hooker will lick h----l out of you and recapture us before you
get us out of these woods."
The general laughed good-naturedly at the banter his questions had
elicited, and solemnly assured them that there were not men enough in
the whole North to take Richmond. Our man was probably misinformed as to
who their interlocutor was. General Lee did not wear long, bushy
whiskers, and was at that time probably down directing operations
against Fredericksburg. This was probably Jeb Stuart, who had succeeded
Jackson in command of that wing of the rebel army.
Our prisoner fared much better than most prisoners, for it was his good
fortune to be exchanged after twenty-three days' durance, probably
owing to the expiration of his term of service. Although the actual
dates of enlistment of our men were all in July and their terms
therefore expired, the government insisted upon holding us for the full
period of nine months from the date of actual muster into the United
States service, which would not be completed until the 14th of May. We
had, therefore, eight days' service remaining after our return from the
battle of Chancellorsville, and we were continued in all duties just as
though we had months yet to serve. Our principal work was the old
routine of picket duty again. Our friends, the enemy, were now quick to
tantalize our pickets with the defeat at Chancellorsville. Such remarks
as these were volleyed at us:
"We 'uns give you 'uns a right smart lickin' up in them woods."
"How d'ye like Virginny woods, Yank?"
And then they sang to us:
"Ain't ye mighty glad to get out the wilderness?"
A song just then much in vogue. Another volunteered the remark, as if to
equalize the honors in some measure, "If we did wallop you 'uns, you
'uns killed our best general." "We feel mighty bad about Stonewall's
death," and so their tongues would run on, whether our men replied or
not.