at Long Bridge, and threatened to force a passage through White Oak
Swamp, but as soon as the rest of the army had crossed the James, we
took up our march southward, and followed to a point a little below
Wilcox Landing, where we were ferried over the river, and on the 16th
the whole army was on the right bank preparing for a new campaign.
XVIII.
_THE BOMB PROOFS._
After the long marches of the spring campaign of 1864, through the
Wilderness to Spottsylvania Court House, across the North Anna, through
the Tolopotomy Swamp to Bethesda Church, thence _via_ the Chickahominy,
White Oak Swamp, and Charles City Court House to the James River,
the 32d Regiment crossed the James and marched to a point on the
Norfolk Railroad, about three miles from Petersburg, where, on the
18th of June, they took part in the charge which drove the enemy into
their last line of intrenchments. It was in this action that Colonel
George L. Prescott fell, mortally wounded. While the engagement was
not an entire success, it gave us the vantage ground of the crest of
a hill, which we retained, and whereon we established our line of
entrenchments; and this was the position from which the Burnside mine
was afterwards made and exploded. After this line was established, our
Brigade was ordered to the rear, into camp along the Jerusalem plank
road, where we were held as reserves for special duty; and this was
not, as might be supposed, light duty, for while there we were busy
day and night, building a large earthwork fort, which was named Fort
Prescott in honor of our colonel. Here Lieutenant-Colonel Stephenson,
suffering from his wounds, resigned and left us, to return to civil
life, and Major Edmunds was appointed Colonel, Captain Cunningham,
Lieutenant-Colonel, and Captain Shepard, Major.
On the 12th of July, after being in reserve somewhat over three weeks,
during which we had been called upon twice to reinforce the 2d and 6th
Corps lines, we were ordered into the trenches, and began our life in
the bomb proofs. Our first term of service there extended from July
12th to August 16th, a continuous period of five weeks, and must have
been experienced to be fully realized.
In order to give the reader an idea of what a bomb proof is, we will
describe the method of its construction. First, a hole is dug in
the ground, which, of necessity, when in front of an active enemy,
must be done under cover of darkness; this hole is perhaps four or
five feet deep, providing the ground is not too wet; then the top
is roofed over with logs of wood held up by cross timbers; then the
earth which has been dug out is thrown over the logs, which makes
the whole comparatively water-tight and proof against solid shot or
shells, such as the enemy seemed to delight in tossing over into our
lines in season and out of season, giving us frequent surprises and
placing some of us _hors du combat_. There were, of course, openings
to these subterranean caverns so that those who were to occupy them
could crawl in and out. The openings were usually not much larger
than was needed for a man comfortably to get in and out, and had an
adjustable log to cover the major portion of the aperture, so arranged
that it could be moved on and off at pleasure. This entrance was
left on the side opposite the enemy, so that direct shots could not
penetrate it, the only danger on that side being from shells exploded
among the bomb proofs casting their fragments through the doorways
into our underground domiciles. This would, after all, occasionally
occur, sometimes arousing a sleeping soldier with a summons to another
world. If one could choose the ground where he would locate such an
underground mansion, he might make it a dry and comfortable abode, and
one that would be comparatively healthy; but the ground assigned to the
32d was a clay soil, rather springy, where in many places two feet of
excavation brought us to water, therefore a part of the domicile had to
be above ground; and this was protected by inclined timbers, built like
a lean-to, with a palisade front to make it proof against the ordinary
shot and shell.
There were many exciting scenes and occurrences among the bomb proofs.
Occasionally, in the middle of the night, a solid shot or a shell would
come singing through the air and pounce down on one of the huts where
half-a-dozen soldiers were dozing away, and the shock would startle
them so that for a short time they would hardly know whether it was an
earthquake or an attack by the enemy, but finding that the roof had
not fallen in, and seeing no danger at hand, they would usually turn
over and resume their slumbers.
Within these huts we were obliged to pass our time when off duty and,
as would be naturally expected, they proved a fruitful source of
sickness.
Many of our men, delirious with malarial fever, were sent from the bomb
proofs to the hospital, where they were dosed, first with a medicine
composed largely of spirits of turpentine, next with strong acids, and
then with quinine and spirituous liquors. If there is anything that
will take the conceit out of a man in a short space of time, it is this
malarial fever when it gets a good hold. It is wonderfully tenacious
in its grip when once it does get hold, leaving the strong man when it
must, but never leaving the weak man while the breath of life remains
in him.
On Saturday the 30th of July, the Burnside mine as it was called, was
exploded, but the result was hardly what had been hoped and expected.
There was indeed a great panic among the enemy, but the advance
obtained for our lines was inconsiderable, and the fear of similar
incidents was not confined to the rebel troops. Men thought and some
spoke of possible counter-mines, and to the dangers of war which had
become in some degree familiar, there was now added another and an
unpleasant possibility--of an irresistible explosion from beneath; one
which bayonets could not repel, and from which our bomb proofs could
afford no protection. Confined to unhealthy caves when not exposed to
more palpable dangers, deprived of opportunity for wholesome exercise
and limited by the circumstances in the range of our diet, wearied by
excitement and worn down by constant new alarms, it is no wonder that
our numbers decreased nor that men were despondent.
Scarcely a day passed that some were not killed or wounded, and
sickness was more effective than gunpowder in sending men to the rear
or putting them out of the fight.
Our second tour of duty in the trenches was from the 1st to the 3d of
September,--but it was in a drier place, and we suffered comparatively
little.
Five weeks in the bomb proofs depleted the Regiment as much as any
whole campaign in the field had done before, and it was with glad
hearts that we received the order to give place to a relieving force.
Surgeon Faxon of the 32d was placed in command of the hospital of the
5th corps, near City Point, and when the army had settled down to
the siege of Petersburg, Mrs. Faxon was ordered to the front, and a
description of the hospital and of hospital life from her point of view
will not be uninteresting.
XIX.
_OUR CORPS HOSPITAL._
It was a bright, warm, September afternoon in 1864, when the hospital
transport, on which I was a passenger, loosed from the Seventh street
landing in Washington and steamed away down the Potomac and out into
Chesapeake Bay. So long as daylight lasted there were many objects of
interest to occupy my eyes and thoughts, and when night closed in,
finding that sleep would be an impossibility in the stifling heat of
a state-room, I willingly resigned myself to the idea of passing the
night on deck, for the sky was cloudless, and the full moon shone on
the wide expanse of quiet waters.
The next afternoon we were steaming up the James River, under wooded
banks, by neglected fields, past deserted plantations. Here and there
might be seen some great homestead such as Carter’s, which had escaped
destruction, standing patriarchally among its negro quarters and
numerous outbuildings, but even these few were evidently deserted and
desolate.
About sunset, having passed Harrison’s Landing, we seemed to be
approaching some great mart of trade, so varied and bustling was the
scene which presented itself to us. Beyond the masts and rigging, and
the smoke stacks and steam of the water craft, were seen groups of
tents, long ranges of whitewashed barracks, log-huts and shanties of
every shape bearing the signs of sutlers and licensed traders. Among
these were moving uniformed soldiers and officers, on foot and mounted,
negroes driving mule teams, negroes leading mules or driving ambulances
drawn by mules, sentries on duty and detachments relieving guard, and
over all flags flying gaily. This was City Point, and such the busy
bustling life of the place which was the base of supplies for the army.
Landing at a wooden pier, I and my luggage were loaded into an
ambulance. Driving past General Grant’s attractive quarters, by what
must have been pleasant homes, now occupied for army purposes, through
what had been avenues of noble trees, which were now rows of stumps,
two miles over a rough road brought me to the depot hospital of the 5th
corps.
A broad drive-way led to the headquarters’ tents, in front of which
a sentinel was on duty. Three hospital tents, each 15x17 feet, were
arranged, opening into each other, and furnished as office, parlor, and
bedroom. In front was an arbor-like enclosure made of green reversible
blinds--probably borrowed from some “mansion”--which gave to one inside
an agreeable seclusion. The furniture consisting of sofa, chairs,
tables, mantel, hanging shelves, bureau, wardrobe, and washstand,
was made of soft, unpainted, unvarnished pine of rude construction.
Cushions were made of army blankets, and the bed, with its linen
counterpane and sheets looked tempting. The tents were floored and in
each was an open fire-place with broad hearth-stone, which I hope did
not come from the cemetery near by.
Dinner, an elaborate meal of several courses, was speedily served in
a neighboring tent, and bore witness to what might be accomplished
by culinary skill, combined with a few pans and a stove, in a space
four feet square. We were hardly seated when, at what proved to be its
accustomed hour, a band commenced to discourse a programme of excellent
music. Thus cheerfully my life on the Appomattox began.
The broad drive by which I had entered the camp was the street upon
which were quartered all the officers, the assistant surgeons occupying
tents on the same line with ours and on each side.
At right angles to this were streets formed by the tents of the
patients, nurses, and servants. The central street, directly opposite
the headquarters, was wider than the others, and in the middle of it
was the dispensary. Three tents, 15x17 each, opening one into another,
extended from street to street. In each tent were six beds, by each
of which a little table held basin and towel. Along the front of the
tents were plank walks, and above on a framework of posts and rails
were spread branches of trees to furnish shelter from the sun. Across
the farther end of the streets were the mess tents, seven in number,
supplied with tables, etc., for the meals of the convalescents. Beyond
them was the diet kitchen, five tents, and behind them the quarters of
the cooks. On one border of the hospital camp were the tents for the
nurses (soldiers) and for the Sanitary Commission, and at the opposite
extremity, under a group of persimmon trees, were accommodations
for the military guard of one hundred men. In one corner was the
property room--a log-house in which, carefully arranged, labelled, and
registered, were the effects of those who died, and on the outer limit
were the negro quarters, stables, etc.
In the rear of our street and parallel to it was another, through which
a railroad track was laid, and there, after a battle, I have seen many
car-loads of wounded men brought in, lying on the floors of rough
cars, into which they had been loaded from the field of action. All
grimy with the heat, dust and wounds of battle, they were placed upon
stretchers, and by the convalescents and nurses were carried to the
dainty beds. They were first washed and put to bed, then supplied with
food and drink, then visited by the surgeons, assistants, and nurses.
The arrangements for cooking were, of course, upon a very large scale.
Huge coppers were used for boiling, and brick ovens for baking. In one
of the latter three barrels of beans could be cooked for the Sunday
dinner.
A little Scotch woman, Miss Duncan, was in charge of this diet kitchen,
having a number of men under her direction; no time was frittered
away, a perfect system was maintained, and the men submitted meekly to
her despotic sway. I have seen a six-foot man rush for sand and mop, to
erase an accidental spot of grease before it should be discovered by
her sharp eyes. Everything under her _régime_ was a miracle of neatness
and economy. The pans were kept shining and arranged in regular order
on the shelves, and the store-room was dazzlingly neat. The smallest
number of rations issued from her kitchen was 5,000 per diem, and she
has sent out as many as 15,000 in one day. Nothing was wasted; the
surgeon was bright enough to secure beef of the best quality, and even
hoofs and tails supplied fine jelly and excellent soups, and what could
not be used directly was sent to feed the swine at the piggery.
The negro camp was filled with families of contrabands who had found
their way within our lines. These were served with rations, and drawn
upon for such assistance as they were competent to give. The women
washed for the hospital, and the men did all sorts of rough work.
Sleeping from ten to thirty in one tent, they lived by day out of
doors, and negroes of all ages and all colors basked in the sun or
hugged the fires, or rolled about in the dirt. Many of the children
came in with only one article of clothing, and that very commonly was a
coffee bag with a hole for the head to go through. One old woman said
that she came in because she had heard that “the champagne was a-goan
to open.” Rough as they fared to our eyes, it was evident they had
never lived in such sybaritic luxury before.
Every part of the extensive camp was swept daily; neatness was the
order everywhere. The precision and beauty of the routine, and the
exactness which followed discipline, spoiled me for civil life at home
afterward, for I craved that system, punctuality, and order which
cannot be found except under military rule.
Passing down the walks in front of the patients’ tents, their thin
white faces claimed one’s pity, but there was comfort in seeing here,
within hearing of the droning voice of the cannon and the tearing sound
of musketry, that the victims of the battle found a quiet place to
rest, where, lying in the soft air and bounteous sunlight, carefully
nursed and daintily fed, their wounds might be healed and their ills
abated before they were again to be plunged into the chaos of war.
In the winter many of the tents were replaced by log houses, and some
of these became charming cottages, having many conveniences. Around my
house was a little garden with a tiny fence, and oats were sown in the
beds to form ornamented borders, in which all the corps badges were
represented.
But with the spring all this was to disappear; the army moving forward
to final victory, and the _impedimenta_ like myself, going back to
civil or civilized tameness in the cold North. But even now I have but
to shut my eyes as my neighbor, the old army bugler, practices the
calls in the clear winter air, and again returns the memory of those
days.
XX.
_ABOUT PETERSBURG._
Such portions of the army as were not stationed in the trenches were
called upon frequently to repel attacks, and occasionally were sent out
on expeditions to destroy railroads, or otherwise to interfere with the
enemy’s supplies, and to weaken his lines. One of these was the action
on the Weldon railroad, August 18th, in which we lost thirteen men.
Another led to the battle of Peeble’s Farm, September 30th, 1864.
The expeditionary force was composed of the 5th and 9th Corps, and
the movement was as usual off to the left. After marching three miles
our brigade was in front of Fort McRee, and the men were ordered to
lie down in the edge of a piece of woods until the remainder of the
attacking force could be posted. The 32d Massachusetts was directly in
front of the fort, the 4th Michigan on the right, and on the left a
brigade of new troops, which however took no part in the attack.
It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when the order for the
advance was given, and we moved out into an open field, finding
ourselves, perhaps half a mile distant from the fort and the line of
the breastworks of the enemy. Their batteries opened upon us promptly,
but old soldiers know that it is not the great guns that are most to be
feared, and our line moved steadily on until it came within rifle range
of the rebel works and the small arms began their deadly work; then
the order for double quick was given and the men, sure that the faster
they moved the less was their risk, dashed forward with alacrity and in
a few moments closed upon the lines of the enemy. Colonel Edmands in
this charge was disabled by a wound in his leg below the knee. Colonel
Welch, of the 4th Michigan, while in the act of urging his horse over
the first defences, fell mortally wounded upon the breastworks.
The first to mount the earthworks was a captain of “ours“; he stood
long enough to swing his sword above his head and shouted “come on
boys, we’ve got ‘em”--then dropped inside closely followed by two other
officers; one of them had jumped the ditch and the other having jumped
into it, scrambled out with the assistance of his men. When these three
officers with one soldier mounted the parapet, its defenders were still
firing, but when they were inside, the fort was captured. Surrounded by
our troops, they knew that if four men could get in in spite of them,
the rest would follow, and soldiers quickly learn to know when the day
is lost and to submit gracefully to the misfortune of war. In the fort
we made forty prisoners, of whom eighteen were officers, and captured
one piece of artillery--minus the horses--which the gunners managed to
cut loose and run away, although not without a struggle.
As we gained these the first of their works, the enemy retired to his
second line of defences and the prisoners being speedily secured, we
pushed on with the rest to the attack. At the inner line there was some
close work where bayonets and butts of rifles came into use, but there
was no great resistance, for the enemy were badly demoralized and our
chief interest centered in an effort to capture one of their colors.
The bearer was a tall and vigorous man, but one of our comrades, a
gallant young fellow, grappled the bearer and secured the flag. Just
as he turned to escape with his prize, one of the rebels with a musket
tripped our man, who fell, still clinging to the staff, but at the same
moment the stalwart standard-bearer grasped the flag, broke the lance
and bore away his flag, leaving the northman only the wrong end of the
stick.
After carrying the second line, our division was halted and left
resting on their arms while the 9th Corps passed into the front and
followed the routed forces. They were however soon met by a force which
proved too strong for them, and after a short struggle were in their
turn driven backward, losing all that they had gained and threatening
to cause confusion in the whole line, but our General (Griffin, called
“old Griff” for short) seeing the danger and having unlimited faith in
his command, threw the division into the pathway of the rebels, now
flushed with hope of final victory, and with a few volleys checked
them and turned the tide again; darkness closed upon the fight and the
field was ours. We called the battle that of Peeble’s farm, because it
was fought upon the lands of General and Colonel Peebles, two officers
of the Confederate army. The fort was afterward named Fort Welch in
honor of the gallant Colonel who had baptized it with his blood.
After the fort was captured and the men disarmed, the fight raged for
a time along the line, and the Confederate prisoners huddled together
under the breastworks for protection from the missiles which were still
uncomfortably numerous, and which they had no further occasion to brave.
While thus situated, a large number of men of our brigade swarmed in
at the entrance of the fort, and one of their officers, a captain of a
Maine regiment, rushing up to a squad of the prisoners, pistol in hand,
fired, shooting one of them in the head. It is charitable to presume
that the captain was blinded with the excitement of the fight, but he
narrowly escaped a similar fate himself before his brother officers
hurried him away; and it is likely he may never forget the shouts of
opprobrium and the epithets of ignominy which the deed provoked from
the Union men who witnessed his cowardly or reckless act.
When the battle commenced, and as we moved to the assault, the brigade
of new troops which was posted on our left was deployed to protect that
flank, and no doubt thought that their time had come. The roar of
the battle was in their ears, and the sight of killed and maimed was
before their eyes for the first time, and as is commonly the case with
raw men at such times, they did not set much store on property; and so
finding themselves cumbered with well-crammed knapsacks and new and
heavy overcoats, they threw them off to improve their fighting trim. As
the veterans came out of the fight and saw such wealth scattered about,
no doubt some of them seized the occasion to better themselves, by
exchanging old for new, and for some days afterwards the new men were
apt to claim as their own every new overcoat worn by any of our men;
but in the army the fashions of dress are so similar that it is not
easy to see any difference between one man’s coat and another’s, and so
our Johnny Raws had to put their losses down to the debit of experience
account and draw new clothing for that “lost in battle.”
The experience of this day was a very cheering one to the troops
engaged; we had had our enemy “on the hip” and kept him trotting, and
we felt that it might be what indeed it proved--the beginning of a
chase which should tire him in the end.
The 9th Massachusetts Regiment did not reënlist, and when their three
years’ term of service expired, their reënlisted men and late recruits
were transferred to the 32d. On the 26th of October the enlisted men
of the 18th and 22d, whose time of service did not expire with that
of their regiments, were also added to our battalion, increasing
its numbers so largely as to require the organization of two new
companies, L and M, the officers for which were transferred with the
men. Thus the Regiment was now composed of twelve companies, and its
parades exhibited a front which two years before would have been
respectable for a brigade.
By general orders of October 26th, a reorganization of our division was
effected, by which we were transferred to the third brigade, which was
then composed entirely of veteran regiments.
On the 6th of December, 1864, we were, as we supposed, established in
winter quarters, on the Jerusalem plank road, in a dry and healthy
location, when orders came for a movement, and we regretfully abandoned
our improvements and took up a line of march along the plank road.
We marched three miles that afternoon and bivouacked by the wayside.
The next morning, early, we started again toward our destination, of
which we knew nothing, except that our haversack rations meant three
days of absence, and the forty rounds in our cartridge boxes implied
no expectation of big fighting. After marching twelve miles the
command was massed at the bank of the Nottoway River, which we crossed
about midnight and yet moved on. At daylight we were at Sussex Court
House, and at three in the afternoon reached what proved to be our
objective--the line of the Weldon Railroad, five miles from Jarratt’s
Station.