THE WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN.
Preparing to leave camp--General Grant in command--The last
advance across the Rapidan--The battle-ground--Battle of the
Wilderness--Noble fight of Getty's division--Hancock's fight on
the left--Rickett's division driven back--The ground
retaken--The wounded--Duties of the surgeons--The noble dead.
Many pleasant recollections cluster around the old camp at Brandy
Station, which will never be effaced from the memory of the soldiers of
the Army of the Potomac.
But at length preparations were commenced for opening the spring
campaign, and one of the first orders, looking toward the breaking up of
our camps, was one directing that our lady friends should take their
departure, then another to send all superfluous camp equipage to the
rear.
Our army had been reorganized, its five corps being consolidated into
three. The three divisions of the First corps were transferred to the
Fifth, retaining their corps badges. Two divisions of the Third were
assigned to the Second, preserving their badges, while the Third
division, Third corps, was transferred permanently to the Sixth corps,
and became the Third division of that corps. Our old Third division was
broken up, the brigades of Wheaton and Eustis being transferred to the
Second division, and Shaler's brigade to the First. Our corps, as
reorganized, consisted of three divisions, comprising eleven
brigades.[6]
[6] The corps, as reorganized, was commanded as follows:
Major-General John Sedgwick commanding the corps.
First division, Brigadier-General H. G. Wright, commanding.
First brigade, Colonel W. H. Penrose; Second brigade, Colonel E.
Upton; Third brigade, Brigadier-General D. A. Russell; Fourth
brigade, Brigadier-General A. Shaler.
Second division, Brigadier-General George W. Getty, commanding.
First brigade, Brigadier-General Frank Wheaton; Second brigade,
Colonel L. A. Grant; Third brigade, Brigadier-General Thomas H.
Neill; Fourth brigade, Brigadier-General L. A. Eustis.
Third division, Brigadier-General James B. Ricketts, commanding.
First brigade, Brigadier-General W. H. Morris; Second brigade,
Brigadier-General Truman Seymour; Third brigade, Colonel
Keiffer.
During the winter, congress, recognizing the great ability of General
Grant, had conferred upon that officer the rank of Lieutenant-General,
giving him, under the President, command of all the armies of the United
States. General Grant at once proceeded to adopt a plan for harmonious
movements of all the armies. General Sherman, in the west, was directed
to push vigorously southward, penetrating the enemy's country as far as
possible, and prevent reinforcements being sent to Lee's army in the
east. General Butler, on the Peninsula, was to advance on Richmond,
taking Petersburgh, and, if possible, Richmond itself, while the Army of
the Potomac was to attack Lee's army in the front, and force it back
upon Richmond or destroy it.
These coöperative movements having been all arranged, each commander of
an army or department informed not only of the part which he was
expected to perform himself, but what all were expected to do, the Army
of the Potomac was ready to move. General Grant had established his
head-quarters with that army.
At length the order for moving came. On the morning of the 4th of May,
reveille was sounded at half-past two o'clock, and at half-past four the
Sixth corps moved, taking the road to Germania Ford.
It was a lovely day, and all nature seemed rejoicing at the advent of
spring. Flowers strewed the wayside, and the warble of the blue bird,
and the lively song of the sparrow, were heard in the groves and hedges.
The distance from our camps to Germania Ford was sixteen miles. This
distance we marched rapidly, and long before sunset we had crossed the
ford on pontoon bridges and marched to a point three miles south of the
river, where we bivouacked for the night.
The Second corps, at an earlier hour, had crossed at Ely's Ford, and had
reached a position near the old Chancellorsville battle-field, and the
Fifth corps had led the way across Germania Ford.
The infantry had been preceded by the cavalry divisions of Gregg and
Wilson, under Sheridan. They had fallen in with a small picket force
which, after exchanging a few shots, had beat a hasty retreat.
Before night the army and the greater part of our trains had effected a
crossing without opposition; and, doubtless, much to the surprise and
chagrin of General Lee, we were holding strong positions, from which it
would hardly be possible to force us.
Except slight skirmishes in front of Hancock's Second corps, there was
no fighting on the fourth of May. At seven o'clock on the morning of the
fifth, the Sixth corps moved southward about two miles on the Wilderness
plank road. Here the corps rested until eleven o'clock, while artillery
and cavalry passed along the road in a continuous column. At eleven
o'clock the corps faced to the front, and advanced into the woods which
skirted the road.
The Sixth corps now occupied the extreme right of the line, General
Warren's Fifth corps the center, and Hancock's Second corps was on the
left, near Chancellorsville. Between Warren and Hancock was an
unoccupied space--a point of vital importance to our line. Thither
General Getty, with the First, Second and Fourth brigades of our Second
division, was sent to hold the ground till Hancock, who was ordered to
come up, should arrive. Our Third brigade being all that was left of the
Second division, it was assigned to the First division. General Meade's
head-quarters were just in rear of the Fifth corps. The wood through
which our line was now moving was a thick growth of oak and walnut,
densely filled with a smaller growth of pines and other brushwood; and
in many places so thickly was this undergrowth interwoven among the
large trees, that one could not see five yards in front of the line.
Yet, as we pushed on, with as good a line as possible, the thick tangle
in a measure disappeared, and the woods were more open. Still, in the
most favorable places, the thicket was so close as to make it impossible
to manage artillery or cavalry, and, indeed, infantry found great
difficulty in advancing, and at length we were again in the midst of the
thick undergrowth.
Warren's corps, on our left, was already fighting, and forcing the enemy
to retire from his front, when our own corps struck the rebel
skirmishers, who steadily fell back, disputing the ground. As our line
advanced, it would suddenly come upon a line of gray-coated rebels,
lying upon the ground, covered with dried leaves, and concealed by the
chapparal, when the rebels would rise, deliver a murderous fire, and
retire.
We thus advanced through this interminable forest more than a mile and a
half, driving the rebel skirmishers before us, when we came upon their
line of battle, which refused to retire.
Neill's brigade and the New Jersey brigade were in the first line of
battle, at the foot of a slope, and in the rear of these two brigades
were Russell's, Upton's and Shaler's. On the left of the First division
were Seymour's and Keiffer's brigades, General Morris with his brigade
remaining on the right.
The enemy now charged upon our lines, making a desperate effort to turn
our right flank, but without avail. Again and again the rebels in
columns rushed with the greatest fury upon the two brigades in front,
without being able to move them from their position. At half-past three
o'clock our sufferings had been so great that General Sedgwick sent a
messenger to General Burnside, who had now crossed his corps at Germania
Ford, with a request that he would send a division to our assistance.
The assistance was promised, but an order from General Grant made other
disposition of the division, and what remained of the noble old Sixth
corps was left to hold its position alone. At four, or a little later,
the rebels retired, leaving many of their dead upon the ground, whom
they were unable to remove. In these encounters the Seventh Maine and
Sixty-first Pennsylvania regiments of Neill's brigade, who were on the
right flank, received the heaviest onsets, and suffered most severely.
At one time the Maine regiment found itself flanked by a brigade of
rebels. Changing front the gallant regiment charged to the rear and
scattered its opponents in confusion. The opposing lines were upon the
two slopes of a ravine, through which ran a strip of level marshy
ground, densely wooded like the rest of the wilderness. The confederates
now commenced to strengthen the position on their side of the ravine,
felling timber and covering it with earth. The woods resounded with the
strokes of their axes, as the busy workmen plied their labor within
three hundred yards, and in some places less than one hundred yards of
our line, yet so dense was the thicket that they were entirely concealed
from our view.
Meanwhile the battle had raged furiously along the whole line. The
rattle of musketry would swell into a full continuous roar as the
simultaneous discharge of ten thousand guns mingled in one grand
concert, and then after a few minutes, become more interrupted,
resembling the crash of some huge king of the forest when felled by the
stroke of the woodman's axe. Then would be heard the wild yells which
always told of a rebel charge, and again the volleys would become more
terrible and the broken, crashing tones would swell into one continuous
roll of sound, which presently would be interrupted by the vigorous
manly cheers of the northern soldiers, so different from the shrill yell
of the rebels, and which indicated a repulse of their enemies. Now and
then the monotony of the muskets was broken by a few discharges of
artillery, which seemed to come in as a double bass in this concert of
death, but so impenetrable was the forest that little use was made of
artillery, and the work of destruction was carried on with the rifles.
Warren's corps, first engaged, had nobly withstood the fierce assaults
upon the center of the line, and had even advanced considerably.
Hancock's command was also hotly engaged. In the commencement of the
battle, three brigades of the Second division, the First, Second and
Fourth, with our commander, General Getty, were taken from the Sixth
corps and sent to the right of Warren's corps, to seize and hold the
intersection of the Brock road and the Orange county turnpike, a point
of vital importance, and which, as Hancock's corps was still far to the
left near Chancellorsville, was entirely exposed. Toward this point Hill
was hastening his rebel corps down the turnpike, with the design of
interposing between Hancock and the main army. No sooner had the
division reached the crossing of the two roads than the First brigade,
General Wheaton's, became hotly engaged with Hill's corps, which was
coming down the road driving some of our cavalry before it. The Vermont
brigade quickly formed on the left of the plank road, and the Fourth
brigade on the right of the First. The engagement became general at
once, and each brigade was suffering heavy losses. The men hugged the
ground closely, firing as rapidly as possible.
Hancock's corps was advancing from the left, but thus far the division
was holding the ground alone. An attack by the three brigades was
ordered, and the line was considerably advanced. Again the men hugged
the ground, the rebels doing the same.
Thus, holding the ground against vastly superior numbers, the division
sustained the weight of the rebel attacks until long after noon, when
some of Hancock's regiments came to its support. With the heroic valor
for which the division was so well known throughout the army, it
withstood the force of the rebels until its lines were terribly thinned.
The First brigade had held the ground with desperate valor, and our
friends, the Vermonters, fought with that gallantry which always
characterized the sons of the Green Mountain State. Their noblest men
were falling thickly, yet they held the road.
As Hancock joined his corps on the left of Getty's division, he ordered
a charge along the whole line, and again the carnage became fearful. For
two hours the struggle continued, and when the sounds of battle became
less, and as darkness finally came over the wilderness, it brought a
season of respite to the hard fought divisions.
A thousand brave men of the Vermont brigade, and nearly as many of
Wheaton's brigade, with hundreds from the Fourth brigade, had fallen
upon that bloody field.
In the evening the contest was renewed, especially along the line of the
Sixth corps, and the dark woods were lighted with the flame from the
mouths of tens of thousands of muskets.
Charges and counter-charges followed each other in quick succession, and
the rebel yell and northern cheer were heard alternately, but no decided
advantage was gained by either party. At two o'clock at night the battle
died away, but there was no rest for the weary soldiers after the
fatiguing duties of the day. Each man sat with musket in hand during the
wearisome hours of the night, prepared for an onset of the enemy.
Skirmishing was kept up during the entire night, and at times the
musketry would break out in full volleys, which rolled along the
opposing lines until they seemed vast sheets of flame.
The position of the two armies on the morning of the 6th was
substantially that of the day before; the Sixth corps on the right, its
rear on Wilderness Run near the old Wilderness Tavern, the Fifth corps
next on its left, and the Second corps with three brigades of the Second
division Sixth corps, on the left; the line extending about five miles.
Besides these corps, General Burnside was bringing his troops into the
line.
Between the two armies lay hundreds of dead and dying men whom neither
army could remove, and over whose bodies the fight must be renewed.
The battle was opened at daylight by a fierce charge of the enemy on the
Sixth corps, and soon it raged along the whole line. The volleys of
musketry echoed and reëchoed through the forests like peals of thunder,
and the battle surged to and fro, now one party charging, and now the
other, the interval between the two armies being fought over in many
places as many as five times, leaving the ground covered with dead and
wounded. Those of the wounded able to crawl, reached one or the other
line, but the groans of others, who could not move, lent an additional
horror to the terrible scene whenever there was a lull in the battle. At
ten o'clock the roar of battle ceased, and from that time until five
P.M., it was comparatively quiet in front of the Sixth corps, but from
the left where Hancock's corps and Getty's braves were nobly battling,
the war of musketry was incessant. There, Hancock had formed his troops
in several lines of battle, and advanced them upon the plank road.
Getty's troops, their ranks having been so terribly shattered the day
before, were allowed to form in the rear. The attack was commenced, but
presently the enemy came down in terrible fury upon Hancock's lines. One
after another was swept away, leaving no Union troops in front of Getty.
Now the exulting rebels came with stunning force against the Sixth corps
men. They had prepared breastworks of logs and decayed wood, and against
these light defenses the rebels charged, but only to meet with a deadly
repulse. Again and again the charge was renewed, and as often the brave
men who had seen nearly three thousand of their comrades fall on the day
before, sent the confederates back from the road. At length, the
divisions on the right and left of Getty having fallen back to the Brock
road, the division was forced to fall back to the road also, but only
after exhibiting a steadiness and valor rarely equaled by any troops.
The road was held, in spite of every effort of the enemy to take it; but
the noble soldier and patriotic gentleman, General Wadsworth, lost his
life while striving to rally his division to hold the ground against the
confederates.
Although the storm of battle had abated in our front, the rebels had
stationed sharpshooters in the trees and other advantageous positions,
who kept up an incessant and annoying fire, and now and then a shell
from a rebel battery would drop into our ranks. By these, the corps lost
many men.
Until the evening of the 6th, our Third brigade of the Second division,
and the New Jersey brigade of the First division of the Sixth corps, had
occupied the right of the line of battle along the base of our slope of
the ravine. Other portions of the First division, and the Third
division, occupying a position in our rear, on the summit of the slope,
had been engaged during the day in throwing up earthworks. At 5 P.M.,
the two advance brigades received orders to fall back to the cover of
these breastworks.
For thirty hours the Sixth corps, stripped of three brigades of its
veteran troops, weary from fighting and fasting, had been patiently
waiting for the relief promised it long ago, and steadily holding its
ground until half of the advance brigades and almost half of the corps
was destroyed.
Thirty hours before, General Sedgwick had sent word that the rebels were
trying to turn our flank, and begged that support might be sent; but no
support had come. These breastworks had been prepared to give the
exhausted corps a little protection, that they might, by falling back to
their cover, occupy a stronger and less exposed position.
Soon after five o'clock, the brigades commenced falling back to these
works. The rebels discovered the movement, and thought it was a retreat.
They were evidently already prepared for a desperate assault upon our
flank; and now that there seemed a retreat, there was no longer any
hesitation. Cheer after cheer arose from the rebel ranks, and, in
fifteen minutes after, their yells were mingled with terrific volleys of
musketry, as they poured in overwhelming numbers upon our flanks.
A brief description of the position will explain the nature of the
movement, which lost to the Sixth corps the position it had held for a
day and a half.
When the brigades which had occupied the base of the slope fell back to
the breastworks, the line of battle was arranged thus: on the extreme
right was the Third division--a division but a few days before joined to
the corps--a division composed mostly of new troops who had never before
faced an enemy, and none of them had ever had any connection with the
already historic fame of that glorious corps. Next on the left was the
First division, and joining this division on the left was our own Third
brigade of the Second division.
The assault of the rebels fell upon the green troops of the Third
division, who, seized with consternation, fled in confusion without
attempting resistance. General Seymour whose gallant conduct up to this
time had won for him the admiration of all, made desperate attempts to
rally his panic-stricken brigade and refused to go to the rear with
them. While thus striving vainly to restore order to his shattered
command, rushing to the front and attempting by his own manner to
inspire courage in his men, he was surrounded by the enemy and captured.
He had but just returned from the rebel prisons where he had been since
the unfortunate battle of Olustee.
The hasty flight of the Third division opened the flank and rear of the
First division to the charge of the rebels, who now rushed on with
redoubled fury and with demoniac yells, carrying everything before them.
The First division fell back, but not in the disorder and confusion of
the other. General Shaler, with a large part of his brigade, which held
that part of the line joining the Third division, was captured while
vainly striving to resist the onset of the rebel forces.
The regiments of our Third brigade were forced from the rifle pits,
leaving the Seventy-seventh regiment and a part of the Forty-third alone
contending the ground, exposed to a galling fire on front, flank and
rear. The gallant regiments remained in the breastworks, pouring their
fire into the enemy's ranks until ordered to withdraw, to save
themselves from capture.
The right wing, if not the whole army, was now in danger. It was at such
times that the great spirit of the noble Sedgwick rose to the control of
events. It seemed to require adversity to bring out all the grand
qualities of his nature. We had witnessed his imperturbable bravery and
determination on the retreat to Banks' Ford, his unsurpassed heroism at
Antietam, when he kept the field after he was thrice wounded, was
familiar to the nation, and now we were to see another manifestation of
his indomitable courage.
Rushing here and there, regardless of personal safety, he faced the
disordered mass of fugitives of the Third division, and with threats and
entreaties prevailed upon them to halt; then turning to the veterans of
the First division, he shouted to them to remember the honor of the old
Sixth corps. That was an irresistible appeal, and the ranks of the First
division and of our Third brigade were formed along the turnpike, which
was at right angles to our former position. The corps now charged upon
the exultant foe, and forced them back until our breastworks were
recaptured; but our flank was too much exposed, and again the enemy
charged upon our front and flank, forcing the corps to wheel back to the
turnpike, where it had first rallied.
General Sedgwick now ordered another charge, and bravely the men rushed
forward, ready to obey any order from the revered lips of "_Uncle
John_." The enemy was again forced back, and again the corps occupied
the breastworks. It was now dark, but the roar of musketry mingled with
the deep toned artillery shook the ground, and the dense forest was
lighted by the scores of thousands of flashing rifles which sent death
to unseen foes.
The corps had not recovered its line of works without sacrifice, for the
ground in our rear was covered with our fallen comrades, while many more
had been captured by the enemy. But we were now able to hold the ground.
The temporary disorder had arisen, and had been mostly confined to the
new troops, and even these, when rallied from their momentary confusion,
had fought with heroic valor. Although, for a time, forced back by the
surprise of the rebel onset, the old troops of the corps had shown no
want of courage. _The Sixth corps proper had not lost its pristine
glory._ Something of a panic had been created among the teamsters in the
rear, and before dark the trains were hurrying toward Chancellorsville.
Leaving the excitement of the battle, let us now turn where the results
of this carnage are seen in their sober reality. While we stand in line
of battle we see little of the frightful havoc of war. The wounded drop
about us, but, except those left on disputed ground and unable to crawl
away, they are carried instantly to the rear. The groans and cries of
the wounded and dying, of which we so often read as filling up the grand
discord of sounds on the battle-field, are things scarcely known in
actual war. Rarely, as in the present battles, wounded men, unable to
get away, are left between the lines in such numbers that, when the
musketry dies away, their groans become heart-rending. But this is not
usual.
But at the field hospitals, the work of destruction is seen in all its
horrors. There, wounded men by thousands are brought together, filling
the tents and stretched upon every available spot of ground for many
rods around. Surgeons, with never tiring energy, are ministering to
their wants, giving them food, dressing their wounds or standing at the
operating table removing the shattered fragments of limbs. Men wounded
in every conceivable way, men with mutilated bodies, with shattered
limbs and broken heads, men enduring their injuries with heroic
patience, and men giving way to violent grief, men stoically
indifferent, and men bravely rejoicing that it is _only a leg_. To all
these the surgeons are to give such relief as lies in their power, a
task the very thoughts of which would overcome physicians at home, but
upon which the army surgeon enters with as much coolness and confidence
as though he could do it all at once. He has learned to do what he can.
Contenting himself with working day and night without respite, and often
without food, until, by unremitting but quiet toil, the wants of all are
relieved. No class of men in the army perform so great labors with so
little credit as the surgeons.
Lest the author should be accused of undue partiality for his own staff,
he will quote the words of an unprejudiced witness, who, in speaking of
the labor, the anxiety and the responsibility imposed upon the surgeons
after a great battle, says:
"The devotion, the solicitude, the unceasing efforts to remedy the
defects of the situation, the untiring attentions to the wounded, upon
their part, were so marked as to be apparent to all who visited the
hospitals. It must be remembered that these same officers had endured
the privations and fatigues of the long forced marches with the rest of
the army; they had shared its dangers, for one medical officer from each
regiment follows it into battle, and is liable to the accidents of war,
as has been repeatedly and fatally the case; that its field hospitals
are often, from the changes of the line of battle, brought under fire of
the enemy, and that while in this situation these surgeons are called
upon to exercise the calmest judgment, to perform the most critical and
serious operations, and this quickly and continuously. The battle
ceasing, their labors continue. While other officers are sleeping,
renewing their strength for further efforts, the medical are still
toiling. They have to improvise hospitals from the rudest materials, are
obliged to 'make bricks without straw,' to surmount seeming
impossibilities. The work is unending both by day and night, the anxiety
is constant, and the strain upon both the physical and mental faculties
unceasing. Thus, after this battle, operators had to be held up while
performing the operations, and fainted from exhaustion the operation
finished. One completed his labors to be seized with partial paralysis,
the penalty of his over exertion.
"While his duties are as arduous, his exposure as great, and the
mortality from disease and injury as large as among other staff officers
of similar rank, the surgeon has no prospect of promotion, of a brevet
or an honorable mention, to stimulate him. His duties are performed
quietly, unostentatiously. He does his duty for his country's sake, for
the sake of humanity."[7]
[7] J. H. Douglass, Assistant Secretary Sanitary Commission.
The labors of the medical officers had never been so great as at these
battles. Thousands of wounded men were stretched in and about the
several field hospitals, and long trains of ambulances, loaded with more
bleeding victims, were constantly bringing in new subjects of care.
The hospitals of the Sixth corps were located, that of the First
division about a large house near the turnpike, in rear of the position
of the division; that of the Third division was near by, and the
hospital of our Second division was placed on the banks of Wilderness
Run, near the old gold mine, and within a few rods of General Meade's
head-quarters. The hospitals of the Fifth corps were also within a short
distance, on the left.
At the hospital of our Second division, the scene was one of activity
and sadness. Never had so many of our choice spirits been brought to the
rear, and never had the division been bereft of so many of its brightest
ornaments by death.
All the hospital tents belonging to the division were filled to
overflowing with the unfortunate victims of the battle. There, all the
space between the different rows of tents, and for many yards in front
and rear, was covered with others, for whom there was no room under the
canvas, and, finally, long rows of them were laid upon the ground at a
little distance from the hospitals as close as they could lie, covering
many rods of ground.
In the operating tents, the surgeons assigned to the duty of performing
operations plied their work without rest from the time the battle
commenced until its close, day and night, while dressers, and those
whose duty it was to supply the wounded with food, were untiring in
their zeal.
At midnight of the 6th, the operators were directed to cease their work.
Ambulances and army wagons in great numbers were loaded with the
wounded, and the whole train, accompanied by the surgeons, moved toward
Chancellorsville, taking the turnpike along the rear of the army. But,
with all the ambulances and army wagons at command, hundreds of these
unfortunate heroes were left behind; and as it was known that our line
of battle was to fall back within a few hours, preparations were made
for their care when they should fall into the hands of the enemy. Four
assistant surgeons from each division, a number of hospital tents, a
supply of hard bread and beef, with dressings and instruments, were left
behind; and with sad hearts, their companions bade them farewell. Like
preparations were made by the other corps, for those of the wounded who
must be left to their fate. The long train bearing the wounded reached
the left of the old battle-field of Chancellorsville toward morning, and
at once the labor of reëstablishing the hospitals commenced. Tents were
erected, the ambulances unloaded, and the surgeons, already worn out by
forty hours of incessant toil, resumed their work.
When the Sixth corps reoccupied the breastworks at dark on the 6th, it
was desirable that the right flank should be protected by old and
reliable troops. Neill's Third brigade was assigned to that position,
the Seventy-seventh being upon the extreme right, the Sixty-first
Pennsylvania thrown out at right angles to protect the rear. On the left
of the Seventy-seventh was the Forty-ninth New York, the Seventh Maine
was next, then the One Hundred and Twenty-second, and the Forty-third
New York was on the left of the brigade.
All was now quiet. No sound was heard except now and then the suppressed
tones of officers in command. The stars shone through the openings among
the trees upon a long line of dusky forms lying close behind the
sheltering breastworks, as silent as death but ready at an instant to
pour out a storm of destruction. A row of bayonets projected over the
breastworks; an abattis of steel awaiting the momentarily expected onset
of the enemy.
At ten o'clock the low tones of command of the rebel officers were heard
as they urged their men against our rear and flank. Colonel Smith of the
Sixty-first Pennsylvania, ordered his men to lie down, for they had no
breastworks, and to reserve their fire. Nearer and nearer came the dark
line, until within twenty feet of the recumbent Pennsylvanians, but not
a sound from them. Still nearer the rebel line approached, to within a
distance of ten feet, when the sharp command rang out, "_Fire_;" and
rising the Pennsylvanians delivered a withering fire into the rebel
ranks that sent them reeling back into the darkness from whence they
came; but a line of prostrate forms where the fire from our line had met
the advancing column, told of its terrible execution. Twenty minutes
after this repulse they advanced silently but in stronger force,
directly in front of our breastworks. They advanced slowly and in
silence until within a few feet of the Union line, when with wild yells
they leaped forward, some even mounting the breastworks. But a sheet of
flame instantly flashed along the whole line of our works; the
astonished rebels wavered for a moment and then beat a hasty retreat,
relinquishing with this last desperate effort the attempt to drive back
the old Sixth corps.
Scarcely a man of the Union force was injured by this charge, but the
dead and wounded from the rebel ranks literally covered the ground.
There was no help for them. Our men were unable even to take care of
their own wounded which lay scattered through the woods in the rear. So
the rebel wounded lay between the two armies, making the night hideous
with their groans.
The battle of the 6th was now at an end, neither party having gained any
decided advantage.
At midnight the Sixth corps fell back upon the plank road to the
vicinity of the old gold mine mill, where our hospitals had been.
Intrenchments were thrown up and the position was held without much
annoyance from the rebels all the next day. The whole line of the army
remained quiet on the 7th, only a few skirmishes along different parts
of the line, relieving the monotony of the day.
The two days of fighting had told fearfully upon our ranks. Our
regiments which a few hours before were well filled, were now but
fragments of regiments; and our hearts were weighed down with heavy
grief when we thought of the many grand spirits who had left us forever
since we crossed the Rapidan.
We thought of the young colonel of the Forty-third, Wilson, beloved and
admired throughout the corps. His death was a heavy blow to us all. We
should miss his soldierly presence on the parade; his winning pleasantry
in our social circles; we were no longer to enjoy his beautiful example
of unswerving christian morality. His manly form was no longer to be our
pride, and his heroic valor would never again be manifest on the field
of battle.
Major Fryer had received his mortal hurt. Fryer was young and gallant;
his handsome form and brilliant eye were in fine harmony with those of
his friend and superior. "In their lives they were beautiful, and in
their death they were not divided."
Captain Hickmot, too, of the Forty-ninth was among the slain. Surely
death loves a shining mark, and with what terrible precision had he
chosen his victims. Hickmot's bright eye was glazed in death. His gayety
was hushed forever. We remembered now his hearty laugh, his friendly
words and his purity of character, and knew that they were ours only in
memory.
Wallace of the Forty-third and Terry of the Forty-ninth, too, were gone.
Colonel Ryerson, the gallant commander of the Tenth New Jersey, was
mortally wounded.
In the Seventy-seventh we had lost Craig; a youth of rare qualities and
of stern patriotism.
The Vermont brigade had lost many of its brightest ornaments. Colonel
Barney of the Sixth was one of Vermont's best men. A kind yet faithful
commander in camp, gallant and fearless on the field. He was the highest
type of a man; a christian gentleman. Colonel Stone had been killed
instantly on the 5th. His urbane manners were remembered by all who
frequented our division head-quarters, and his bravery had endeared him
to his men. Colonel Tyler, too, of the Second was among the mortally
wounded, and all felt his loss deeply.
Captains Bixby, of the Second, Bartlett and Buck, of the Third,
Carpenter and Farr, of the Fourth, Ormsbee and Hurlburt, of the Fifth,
and Bird and Randall, of the Sixth--all men of bravery and patriotism,
all beloved as companions and valued as officers--were among the dead or
dying. But among Vermont's fallen sons was no more ardent patriot or
gallant soldier than Captain George D. Davenport, of the Fifth. His
manly bearing, his brilliant intellect, his ready wit, his social
virtues and his well known bravery, combined to render him a favorite
officer in his brigade, while to those who were bound to him by the ties
of fellowship, his disinterested love and noble generosity rendered his
friendship of inestimable value.
These were a few among the many noble names of fallen heroes. Never were
grander men sacrificed for a noble cause than they.
General Getty and General Morris and Colonel Keiffer were among the
wounded, and we had lost General Shaler and General Seymour, captured by
the enemy.
General Neill succeeded to the command of the Second division, and
Colonel Bidwell assumed the command vacated by General Neill.