performed by the 32d during the days and weeks that succeeded. Suffice
it to say, that it consisted principally of picket and guard duty,
with details for road building, and the constant drill and discipline
so necessary to prepare the soldier for the more severe labors of the
march, and the sterner duties of the battle-field. With the warmer
weather of the spring came orders which told us that the campaign was
soon to begin; baggage must be forwarded to Washington, clothing must
be furnished, deficiencies in ordnance supplied; these, together with
orders for the return of men on leave and detached service, informed
the soldier as clearly as if it had been promulgated in positive
terms, that active duties were to commence, that a battle was soon
to be fought. On the 8th of April, President Lincoln reviewed the
army, and the sight of a hundred thousand men prepared for review was
indeed impressive. General Hooker was excusable, perhaps, in speaking
of his command at this time as “the finest army on the planet.” It
certainly was never in better condition. On the 27th of April we
left our camp--the Regiment under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel
Stephenson--without a thought that we should ever return to it again.
Starting at noon, we marched to Hartwood Church, about eight miles,
reaching it at nightfall; the next morning, moving towards Kelley’s
Ford on the Rappahannock, near which we bivouacked for the night;
taking up the line of march at daybreak, we crossed the Rappahannock
on a pontoon bridge, coming to Ely’s Ford on the Rapidan, late in the
afternoon of the 29th. The water at this ford was quite deep, reaching
nearly to the armpits, and running rapidly. Most of the men stripped
themselves of their clothing and waded through, holding their muskets,
knapsacks, and clothing above their heads, while others dashed in
without any preparation. Occasionally a luckless wight would lose his
footing in the swift-running stream, and float down with the current,
to be caught by the cavalry men who were stationed below for that
purpose. Regiment after regiment as they arrived, dashed through the
waters, and a more stirring scene can hardly be imagined. All along the
banks of the river were men by hundreds, and thousands--on one side
making preparation for fording--on the other replacing their clothing
and repairing damages, while the water was crowded with soldiers who
filled the air with shouts, laughter, and song. As the darkness came
on, the numerous fires which the soldiers had made for the purpose of
drying their clothing, threw a strong light over a picture of life and
beauty, such as can only be witnessed in the experience of army life.
That night we rested on the south side of the Rapidan. The morning of
the 30th of April found us on the march, and in a few hours we struck
that region, which, but for the war, would scarcely have been known
outside of its own limits--now to be remembered by generations yet to
come, as the locality where were fought some of the bloodiest battles
known in history--the Wilderness.
Some description of the territory may not come amiss to those who have
grown up since the bloody scenes of the war for the Union were enacted
there. It comprises a tract of land probably more than twenty miles in
circumference; a nearly unbroken expanse of forest and thicket. A large
portion is covered with a dense growth of low, scrub oaks, briars, and
shrubs, with occasionally a spot where the trees have attained to more
lofty proportions. For miles you can travel without a change, seeing
only the loathsome snake as it glides across your path, and uncheered
by the voices of the birds, for the songsters of the day find no home
in its thickets, only the lonely night-bird inhabiting its gloomy
depths. Everything about it is wild and desolate. The sun hardly
penetrates through its gloom, and the traveller, oppressed with its
loneliness and desolation, hurries through that he may reach the more
genial spots beyond, and feel the cheering rays of God’s sunshine.
Near one border of this region, at the junction of roads that lead from
Fredericksburg and United States Ford, is Chancellorsville; not a town,
not a village, but simply a tract of cleared land surrounding one brick
house, said to have been erected for a private residence, but used at
the commencement of the war as a roadside tavern. Through the forest we
marched to Chancellorsville, near which we bivouacked for the night.
May 1st, 1863, our Regiment led the division which marched not
south-east in the direction of the plank road, but by a road which led
east and northeast, in the direction of Bank’s Ford. Artillery and
picket firing had been heard for some time, but we were in thick woods.
Covered by flankers and skirmishers we moved on sometimes very rapidly,
until within less than four miles of Fredericksburg. The day was fine
and with the exception of some cavalry pickets, we saw no enemy, but
there was a sound of heavy firing on our right in the direction of the
plank road, and as we advanced it seemed to become more distant and
almost exactly in our rear.
By the excitement apparent among General Griffin’s staff it was evident
that things were not going right, and at last the order was given to
face about, and we took the back track at a killing pace. As we neared
Chancellorsville again, there was some pretty sharp artillery and
infantry skirmishing going on just ahead, and as night drew on we were
halted in the road in line of battle facing south, with skirmishers in
front.
It seems that the regular division of our corps had been roughly
handled and driven back, thus separating us from the army, and we were
kept all that night marching and counter-marching about the country. It
was a bright moonlight night, but dusky in the woods. There were long
waits, but not enough for sleep, and it was long after daylight when we
got out of the forest and came upon the 3d division of our corps, and
found ourselves welcomed as men who had been lost but were found.
On the morning of May 2d we were posted on the extreme left of the
army and ordered to build breastworks. The axe and the spade were soon
busily at work, and before night a formidable barrier had been erected
against any attack. About sunset there was some slight skirmishing,
and the men stood in line awaiting an attack, but none came. All
was still as night; not a sound was heard except the low murmuring
of voices. Even the dropping fire of the pickets had ceased, when
suddenly on our right there burst on the air the sound of a volley of
musketry accompanied by the wild rebel yell that was so familiar to
the soldier of the Union. From the first it seemed to come towards
us like a torrent, constant and resistless. The men stood, musket in
hand, peering into the gloom, every nerve strung, ready to meet the
attack, but it did not reach us, and ceased suddenly at last. This
was the famous flank attack by Stonewall Jackson upon the 11th Corps
under General Howard, which was ended thus abruptly by the death of
the rebel commander. On the morning of the 3d we relieved and changed
positions with the 11th Corps. Our new position was just at the right
of Chancellorsville house, by the side of the road; before us a cleared
plain probably two hundred yards wide, beyond which was a forest. Again
we were ordered to throw up earthworks, and the men were busily at work
all day. Our brigade was formed in two lines, the 32d being a part of
the front line, where it remained until the army fell back.
About noon on the 4th our brigade received orders to advance across the
plain into the woods. That morning a fire had swept through the woods,
burning the accumulated leaves, the deposit of years, and in addition
to the heat of the day, we suffered from the hot ashes that arose under
our footsteps in clouds.
The purpose of this advance was to feel out the enemy and draw his
fire, but not to bring on an engagement, the object being to ascertain
whether he was still in force on our front. The movement was executed
in gallant style. The enemy received us with a hot fire of musketry
and artillery, the greater portion of which fortunately went over our
heads. We were at once ordered to retire and did so, under a tremendous
shower of shot and shell, nearly all of which passed above us.
We remember with pride the precision with which the brigade returned
across the field, as coolly as if passing in review, rather than under
the fire of the enemy, a movement which elicited the hearty cheers
of the division. The most excited individual was a non-commissioned
officer who, being lightly hit by a piece of shell as we entered our
earthworks, maddened by the stinging pain, turned and shook his fist at
the invisible foe, abusing him most lustily, amidst the laughter of his
companions. Our advance demonstrated that the enemy was still there,
and in a short time they made their appearance in masses issuing from
the edge of the wood, but they were received with a fire of artillery
that sent them reeling back to their defences, leaving great numbers of
dead and wounded on the field.
The morning of the 5th came in with a cold, heavy rain, making our
position that day anything but pleasant, but we did not move. As soon
as darkness came on, the batteries began to withdraw, then we could
hear the tramp of regiment after regiment as they moved away, and we
soon learned that the army was retiring across the Rappahannock. Still
no orders came for us, and we began to realize that again our division
was to cover the retreat, and be the last withdrawn. The ground was
soaked with water, we could neither sit nor lie down, but crouching
under the little shelter tents, which afforded some protection from the
drenching rain, we waited for our turn to come.
It was nearly morning when we started, and sunrise when, after wading
through mud and water often knee deep, we reached United States Ford.
The engineers were in position there ready to take up the pontoons.
Striking swiftly across the country, hungry, tired, and disheartened,
we re-occupied before noon our old quarters at Stoneman’s and the grand
movement of General Hooker upon Richmond was ended. The loss of the 32d
was only one killed and four wounded.
XI.
_FREDERICKSBURG TO GETTYSBURG._
After the battle of Chancellorsville the whole army retired to its old
position about Stafford Court House and Falmouth, on the Rappahannock,
opposite the City of Fredericksburg. The 32d Massachusetts was detailed
to guard duty along the railroad from Acquia Creek; half of the command
under Lieutenant-Colonel Stephenson being posted at or near the
redoubts on Potomac Creek, guarding the bridge; the remainder, or right
wing, under Colonel Prescott, posted south of Stoneman’s Switch.
On Thursday afternoon, May 29th, orders were received to break camp and
move to Barnett’s Ford. The left wing moved promptly, but the right
wing, owing to the temporary absence of Colonel Prescott, did not march
until after nightfall. A bright full moon and cool breeze made marching
delightful. The way was familiar, the roads fine, and the men, in the
best of spirits, laughed and sung as they went. At about midnight this
hilarity had subsided, and the little column was jogging sleepily along
the way, which wound through a deep wood in the vicinity of Hartwood
Church. Suddenly, at a sharp turn of the road, where the moonlight fell
bright as day, came a stern call “Halt! who goes there?” and a dozen
horsemen, springing from the shadow, stood barring the way, bringing
forward their carbines with a threatening click as they appeared. The
column, however, not halting, pressed forward into the light, showing
the glittering muskets of the men and something of their number. The
horsemen seemed to suddenly abandon their purpose, for, without a word
of parley, they turned their horses into the woods and slipped past us
under cover of the darkness. We recognized them, when too late, as a
band of guerillas, and learned more concerning them at the first picket
post we met.
During our stay at the fords of the Rappahannock, guerillas harassed us
in various ways, hovering around us, indeed, until we neared the border
of Maryland. Now a portion of our wagon train would be run off, and an
officer would be spirited away when on outpost duty or riding from one
camp to another. Again and again the mail was stopped and rifled, the
carrier shot or captured. Indeed, these things became of so frequent
occurrence that stringent orders came from headquarters forbidding
officers or men straying beyond the limits of their camp guards. Many
were the sensational rumors concerning the guerillas and their Chief
Mosby. One of our cavalry officers used to say that he never could
catch a guerilla, but after a long chase occasionally found a man
wearing spurs, engaged in digging a well.
At Hartwood Church the two wings of the Regiment were again united, and
moved on the following day past Barnett’s to Kemper’s Ford. Mrs. Kemper
and her daughter were the only inmates of their mansion, Mr. Kemper
being “away,” which meant in the rebel army, and of the swarms of
servants which no doubt once made the quarters lively, there remained
only two or three small girls and an idiot man.
Our stay here was one of the bright spots of army experience. The
location was delightful and the duty light. We had a detail on guard at
the ford and pickets along the river bank; opposite to us on the other
shore, and within talking distance, were the rebel pickets, but no
shots were exchanged, and all was peaceful and quiet.
We had extended to the family such protection as common courtesy
demanded, and when we were about to leave, a few of the officers called
to say good-bye, and found the ladies distressed and in tears on
account of our departure, or the dread of what might come afterwards.
They told us that ours was the first Massachusetts regiment that
had been stationed there; that they had been taught to believe that
Massachusetts men were vile and wicked; “but,” said one of them, “we
have received from no other soldiers such unvarying courtesy and
consideration; we have discovered our mistake, and shall know how to
defend them from such aspersions in the future.” Promising in reply
to their urgency that, if taken prisoners and if possible, we would
communicate with them, we took our leave, with the impression that it
was well to treat even our enemies with kindness.
On the 9th of June occurred the engagement at Brandy Station, said
at that time to be the greatest cavalry fight of the war, and the
Regiment crossed the river and covered the approaches to the ford while
the battle was in progress. They moved out about three miles in the
direction of Culpepper Court House, but encountered no enemy, except a
few straggling cavalry men, who fled at their approach.
Now the Regiment was kept continually on the _qui vive_, under orders
to move at a minute’s notice, and be prepared for long and rapid
marches.
Suddenly the enemy withdrew all his pickets from the river, and on the
13th of June we moved in the middle of the night, which was very dark,
in the direction of Morrisville, and on the following night we reached
Catlett’s, our division bringing up the rear of the army and guarding
the wagon train. The weather had now become very summerlike, and the
days were hot and sultry, and the roads heavy with dust. Again we were
moving through that detestable Manassas country, that debatable land,
now almost a desert; the soil uncultivated, trodden to powder, the
fields overgrown with weeds, an arid waste where no water was and no
food could be obtained, the breeze stifling one with the pungent odor
of penny-royal, which pervaded everything.
June 16th we encamped near Manassas, on the Thoroughfare Gap road,
and on the following day made an ever-memorable march of eighteen
or twenty miles, under a tropical sun, with a stifling air filled
with dust, without a drop of water anywhere, and the men of all ranks
and commands falling down by the roadside and dying of heat-stroke
and exhaustion. The 32d made the best record of any regiment in the
division on this day, encamping at Gum Spring at night with fuller
ranks than any other. We set out with 230 men and came in with 107 in
the ranks, and even this poor showing was far ahead of most regiments
composing the division. Four soldiers of the division died from
sunstroke on this dreadful march. Firing was heard all day from the
direction of Aldie, and we were urged forward as rapidly as possible.
On the 19th we moved to Aldie Gap, with the whole of the 5th Corps,
passing many fine places upon the broad Winchester turnpike. An
artillery skirmish was going on as we neared the Gap at sunset, and
we deployed across the broad fields under the beautiful Blue Ridge
mountains in fine style, bands playing, bugles sounding, etc. At 2 A.
M. on the morning of the 21st the men were awaked, three days rations
issued, and we were soon in motion up the Gap. As morning broke we
defiled past Aldie, and on the way down the mountain side were passed
by thousands of cavalry, under command of Generals Pleasanton, Gregg,
and Kilpatrick.
During that day and the next we had a glorious opportunity to witness
one of the great cavalry skirmishes of the Army of the Potomac, the
enemy’s cavalry consisting of Fitz Hugh Lee’s brigade led by Rousseau,
and Stuart’s cavalry led by Stuart himself. We withdrew on the 22d
and passed that night near Aldie on the side of the hills, looking
down into the valley, and across to Ashby’s Gap. Many are the tales
since told of what we saw and did during those two days of cavalry and
infantry fighting. On the 21st the Regiment led the infantry advance,
and on the return was at the rear of the column, and covered the
cavalry retreat.
June 26th orders came to move at 3 A. M., and from that time we marched
rapidly forward across the state of Maryland, and until we reached the
Pennsylvania line.
Early on the afternoon of July 1st, 1863, after a march of about ten
miles, the 32d reached Hanover, Pennsylvania, and as we filed into a
cleared level piece of grass-land, we congratulated ourselves upon
the prospect of a long rest and a refreshing sleep after the tedious
marches and broken slumbers of the previous sixteen days. The men went
cheerily to work preparing food, the great difficulty being lack of
fuel, for we were in a friendly country, and the usual destruction of
fences and trees was forbidden. But we were soon to find ourselves
disappointed in our expectations; for, at 8 o’clock, orders came to
move, and the men discontentedly packed their knapsacks, giving up
all idea of rest so much needed and desired. As we marched toward
Gettysburg, we heard in advance the sound of cheering, and soon word
came down the line that General McClellan was again in command of the
army. As the news passed along, regiment after regiment sent up cheers,
and the soldiers moved with quickened step and joyful hearts. Where
this report originated we never knew, yet many went into the battle
the next day thinking they were under the command of the general, who,
above all others, had won the love and confidence of the Army of the
Potomac. Very soon, orders came for the musicians to give the time for
the march, and we stepped off quickly to the beat of the drum. This was
one of the very few occasions on which we used our music while on the
march during the entire service of the Regiment. Our musicians were
used, as a general rule, only in camp to sound the various calls that
marked the routine of camp duty, and at guard-mountings and parades,
and on this occasion we were allowed but a few minutes to enjoy the
luxury of marching to the beat of the drum, for it was stopped by
orders from an authority higher than our division general, on account
of the danger of giving information of our whereabouts to the enemy.
We marched nearly ten miles more that night, and at midnight bivouacked
two miles distant from the spot that was to be the field of the battle
of Gettysburg. Very early in the morning, as soon as daylight appeared,
we moved on to the vicinity of Round Top and formed in line of battle.
Here the 32d was detailed to form a skirmish line, to protect the
extreme flank of the army. Colonel Prescott, however, requested that
the Regiment be excused from this duty, for the reason that it had
had no experience, and but little instruction in skirmishing. The 9th
Massachusetts was substituted, fortunately for them, and unfortunately
for us, for as matters turned out, they were not engaged, and did not
lose a single man during the fight of that day.
We remained inactive for a number of hours, the men providing
themselves with food, and seeking the rest so much required. Officers
and men laid down under the shelter of a ledge, and entirely oblivious
to the roaring of the cannon and the bursting shell that passed over
our heads, slept the sleep of the weary. It was the last sleep on earth
to some of our number; to others a blessed boon, enabling them to
endure the exhaustion and pain occasioned by wounds received at a later
hour. It was nearly 3 o’clock in the afternoon before our repose was
disturbed by orders to move forward.
Following the general design of these pages, to relate only the story
of our own Regiment and what occurred in its presence, to paint only
the pictures that we saw, there are yet necessary, concerning the
battle of Gettysburg, a few words of more general description.
There had been several days of occasional contact between the hostile
armies; each was concentrating its scattered corps, and meanwhile
manœuvring to secure a favorable position for the inevitable battle. On
the 1st of July the fighting had been heavy, and when we joined, the
forces on each side were arrayed for a decisive contest.
Seminary Ridge, which was occupied by the Confederates, and Cemetery
Ridge, which was selected for the Federal position, may be called
parallel ranges of highlands. Between the two the country is not a mere
valley sloping from the ridges to a common centre, but it is broken
by knolls and swells of land which, like the ridges, are lower to the
northward (our right) and more rough and broken toward the south.
General Sickles, with the 3d Corps, had, upon his own responsibility,
advanced his line so that it occupied, not Cemetery Ridge, as General
Meade had intended, but the broken swells of land lying between the
ridges; and this advance of the left corps of Meade’s lines, forming a
salient angle, led to its being selected for the main attack by Lee.
The line of the Union army was irregularly curved, the right bending
sharply back and resting on Rock Creek, and the left bowed slightly to
the rear.
Between the positions here and at Antietam, there were many points of
likeness, but the relative situation of the combatants was reversed.
This time it was Lee’s army that attacked, while to us fell the
advantage of the defensive attitude and of the interior lines, by which
reinforcements could speedily be moved from left to right or right to
left, as the pressure of emergencies required.
As has already been stated, the 5th Corps was held in reserve during
the early part of the 2d of July, and its position was such that by
reason of the irregularities of the ground and the frequent patches of
woodlands, we could see but little of our own lines, and of the enemy’s
nothing except the smoke of his batteries on Seminary Ridge.
The attack of Longstreet’s corps, although bravely resisted, was too
much for Sickles, in his unfortunate position, to withstand, and the
immediate cause of our orders to move forward was the break made by the
enemy in the lines of his corps. Our line of battle was hastily formed
on the westerly slope of a hill, at the foot of which was the bed of a
small stream then almost dry.
The division line was, because of the broken character of the hillside,
exceedingly irregular, and walls and ledges were made useful for
defence.
We were hardly established in our position, such as it was, before the
attack came, the enemy piling down in great numbers from the opposite
slope and covering themselves partially under the hither bank of the
little stream. They were received by a galling fire from the division
and driven back from our immediate front with great loss into the wood
from whence they came. The men loaded and fired with great rapidity,
some using much judgment and coolness, making every shot tell in the
enemy’s ranks; others, as is usually the case, excited and firing
almost at random.
It was during this part of the fight that Lieutenant Barrows, an
officer esteemed by all, was instantly killed. And here too, before the
enemy was repulsed, many of our men were killed or wounded. Further
to the right the Union soldiers were not so successful, and another
break in our lines from the enemy’s charges compelled the command to
fall back, which we did in splendid order, carrying with us our dead
and wounded. Moving to the rear and left of its first position, the
brigade formed in a piece of woods bordering upon the wheat-field,
which is pointed out to visitors as the spot where were enacted some
of the bloodiest scenes in the battle of Gettysburg. This field was
surrounded by a stone wall, and when we first saw it, was covered with
waving grain. Forming in line of battle our brigade advanced across
this field, taking position in rear of the stone wall facing the
enemy’s lines. On the right was the 4th Michigan, the 62d Pennsylvania
holding the centre, with the 32d Massachusetts on the left. The right
of the 4th Michigan rested near a wood or clumps of thick bushes where
it should have connected with the left of the 1st Brigade, but by some
mistake, either on the part of the general commanding the division, or
the officer in command of the 1st Brigade, that body did not advance
as far as the 2d, but halted, leaving a large gap in the line of the
division. Between the two brigades was also a steep ravine leading up
from the “Devil’s Den,” a deep hollow in our front.