Relieved—March to Clinton—Great Heat—Deserting a Plantation—Return
to Port Hudson—Assault on the 14th of June—Heavy Loss in the
Thirty Eighth.
When the regiment went to the front the second time, the men expected
to be relieved in twenty-four hours; but the fourth day found them
still there. On the evening of that day, they were relieved, and
enjoyed another day’s rest in the woods. What followed may be learned
from the following extract from a letter:—
“Saturday, June 6th, 5 P. M.—We are now out of the din of battle
which surrounds Port Hudson, and went to sleep last night, for the
first time in twelve days, without the accompaniment of cannon and
musketry. It appears that the rebels have been collecting a force
at Clinton, about twenty or thirty miles from Port Hudson, and have
recently defeated a portion of our cavalry, compelling them to
retreat; and there was danger of our supply-trains being captured.
In consequence of this, a force has been sent out, under command of
Gen. Paine, to drive them off, or give them battle if they stand.
We started early Friday morning; but several of the regiments took
the wrong road, and we had to wait until they retraced their steps,
and caught up with us. At noon, we halted for an hour or so, and
then resumed our march; but, while we had been laying in front of
Port Hudson, the sun had been climbing up in the heavens, and it was
found that we could not march as we had done. Men began to fall, all
through the line; and the hospital stretchers were soon filled with
them, panting for breath. The whole force was at once taken into
the woods, where it remained until six o’clock in the evening, when
the march was resumed, and kept up till nine o’clock.... We started
at six this morning, and marched till eleven, and have been in the
shade since, near a swift-running bayou, which affords an excellent
opportunity for bathing.”
At twelve o’clock, Saturday night, the command was again in motion,
although few had obtained any sleep. “We nodded as we marched along,
and were completely lost if we halted a moment.” Having marched to
within eight miles of Clinton, the column halted, rested for a short
time, and then faced about, and took the road back, the cavalry
having gone ahead, and learned that the enemy had evacuated the town.
We again quote from the letter:—
“Tuesday morning, June 9.—We are again back in the woods opposite
Port Hudson, with the cannon booming around us; but first, I
will tell you a little more about our Clinton expedition. Friday
afternoon, while on picket, I had an opportunity of witnessing a
scene quite common in Louisiana,—the desertion of a plantation by
the whole body of slaves. Near the picket-post was a house, over
which a guard had been placed, when we halted the day previous, to
prevent plundering. The lady of the house, letting her temper get the
better of her judgment, abused the guard, calling them bad names,
and hoping the rebels would get the whole of them. The officer of
the guard removed his men, and the household property began rapidly
to decrease, when the lady repented, and the guard was restored.
On the return from Clinton, we halted near the same place; and the
house was again protected. There were about eight negro cabins on the
plantation; and the inmates were preparing to leave the old home.
All their worldly possessions were spread out on the floors of the
cabins, and they were selecting a little bundle of the most valuable;
for people who travel with the Nineteenth Army Corps have to go in
‘light marching order.’ One man was too old and lame to go; and he
wandered around among the busy emigrants, with a half-mournful,
half-resigned look. ‘I’m sorry we’re all gwine to leab ye, Uncle
Joe,’ said one of the men, looking up from his work; ‘but ye couldn’t
stan’ de march.’—‘No; I can’t leab,’ said Uncle Joe, sadly, as
he hobbled off to another cabin. At the door of the mansion, the
mistress, who was so rampant yesterday, was selling eggs at a great
price to Gen. Paine’s cooks.”
The march back to Port Hudson was not so fatiguing; and the regiment
again took up a position in the woods, where it remained until the
afternoon of the 13th of June, when it was removed to the edge of the
woods, near the front, ready to take part in the grand assault which
was announced to take place the next day. The army had not been idle
since the charge on the 27th of May. Guns had been put in position
along the whole line, and strong works erected to protect them; and
roadways had been worked through the ravines, so that sharpshooters
could approach within rifle-shot, under cover. But the work of the
spade was too slow; and another assault was resolved upon. The order
of advance was announced to the third division as follows: The Eighth
New Hampshire and the Fourth Wisconsin to deploy as skirmishers;
the Fourth Massachusetts, and five hundred picked men, to follow
with hand-grenades; the Thirty First Massachusetts, with bags of
cotton, to fill up the ditch; and then the three brigades of the
third division, the third brigade in the advance. This programme was
somewhat changed afterward. In regard to a charge so interesting to
the regiment, an extract from a letter written two days after, will
be allowed to tell the story:—
... “We were roused a little before midnight, and packed our
blankets, which were to be left behind. Hot coffee was served out
by the company cooks; and, with our haversacks and canteens filled,
we moved silently to the front. Many regiments were forming on the
edge of the woods; and we expected a short, sharp fight. Gen. Paine
himself thought that we should be inside the works within half an
hour, and gave orders that the wounded men were not to be removed
from the field till the battle was over. Crossing a bridge, which had
been covered with cotton to deaden the sound, we marched down a road,
enclosed by thick hedges, deployed as skirmishers on an open field,
and laid down. The centre was kept in reserve, with orders to follow
as the right and left advanced. There were two regiments in front of
us, deployed, and lying down,—the Fourth Wisconsin and the Eighth New
Hampshire, and also a detachment of men from other regiments, with
hand-grenades, to throw over the breastworks. Just behind us was the
Fifty Third Massachusetts. As soon as we laid down, our artillery
opened fire on the fortifications, throwing the shot and shell over
our heads; but some of the shells fell short, injuring our own men.
“After a brisk cannonading, Gen. Paine passed down the line in front,
his form just visible in the gray of the morning, repeating to every
‘group,’ in a clear voice, ‘As soon as I have passed the line, the
Fourth Wisconsin, the Eighth New Hampshire, and the grenadiers will
go forward to the works.’ He had scarcely reached the left of the
first line, when the Wisconsin boys sprang up with a loud cheer,
and dashed through the openings in the hedge which screened our
movements from the enemy. They were followed closely by the Eighth
and by the grenadiers. Then the general passed down our line, saying
to every company, ‘As soon as I give the word, the Thirty Eighth and
Fifty Third will go forward.’ Soon the order came, ‘Forward Thirty
Eighth and Fifty Third.’
“The first shout of our advance had been answered by a volley of
musketry; and the cries of the wounded men told us what to expect. No
one hesitated, however, and the two Massachusetts regiments pressed
through the hedge. The distance to the works was farther than we had
anticipated, and consisted of a succession of hills and ravines,
blocked up with fallen trees, scrubby bushes, and brambles. As we
passed the brow of every hill, we were exposed to a severe fire,
and our men fell thick and fast; yet the regiment kept on, for the
voice of Gen. Paine was heard, in spite of the roar of cannon and
musketry, ‘Forward Thirty Eighth. Forward Fifty Third.’ Many of the
officers had fallen; the nature of the ground rendered it impossible
to keep a line, and the four advance regiments soon became completely
mixed up. Still they moved forward until ordered to stop. A few of
the Wisconsin men reached the fortifications, and went over, where
they were immediately captured; others of them, and many of the
Eighth New Hampshire, were dead in the ditch beneath the works. The
hand-grenades had been a complete failure, and had been thrown back
by the enemy to make sad havoc in our own ranks. More than one third
of the Thirty Eighth, and one quarter of the Fifty Third, lay wounded
and dying, on the hills and in the ravines. The support did not come
up; and that voice which had inspired the whole movement was no
longer heard. Whatever chance of success there may have been at the
outset, the fall of Gen. Paine destroyed it. And now, almost without
officers, the men sought cover from the enemy’s rifles on the slopes
of the hills, and returned the fire whenever an opportunity offered.
The One Hundred and Thirty Third New York, with its brave colonel
leading, made a gallant attempt to retrieve the disasters of the
day; but the fall of Col. Currie, and the heavy fire poured into the
regiment, caused it to seek shelter. The Thirty First Massachusetts
had advanced some distance with the cotton-bags, with which they
made breastworks, and held a position in front of the fortifications
during the day, having over thirty men killed and wounded.”
Major Richardson, just returned from the hospital, and still
suffering from illness, had been obliged to leave the field, and
the command devolved upon Capt. Wyman, who, in turn, was partially
disabled by a piece of shell, which shattered his sabre, and bruised
his leg. Lieut. Holmes had been killed, and Lieuts. Spear, Russell
of Co. F, Russell of Co. D, Bullard, and Jackson, were wounded. In
all, ninety-one of the two hundred and fifty who formed in line that
morning had been killed or wounded. All day, the regiment, scattered
in groups over the field, remained beneath the scorching sun,
suffering for water, and exposed to the fire from their own batteries
in the rear, as well as from those of the enemy in front.
Water could only be procured from a few mud-holes in the ravines;
and the paths leading to them were commanded by the rebel works, the
numerous dead and wounded men in the vicinity telling how dangerous
was the attempt to reach them. For a long time, Gen. Paine, who had
been shot in the leg, remained behind a log, every attempt to carry
him off the field being the signal for a volley from the enemy,
who knew that some prominent officer must be the object of so much
solicitude.
The stretcher corps were repeatedly fired upon. Two colored men had
succeeded in getting to the extreme front with a stretcher, and were
endeavoring to take off a fallen soldier (supposed, at the time, to
belong to Co. I, of the Thirty Eighth), when they were fired upon,
and both fell wounded. One of them tried to get away, and was again
shot down; and, making a second attempt, received a third wound. But
the longest day must have an end; and darkness at length kindly came,
and hid from sight the terrible scenes of that sad Sunday. During the
evening, the few remaining officers gathered the scattered groups
together; and, about midnight, the regiment withdrew from the field,
not, however, without a parting volley from the rebels, who heard the
movement.
The day after the battle, attempts were made to recover the bodies of
those who had fallen; but, as the rebels had command of the field,
all of them could not be reached. Toward evening, members of Co. F
succeeded, after a long search among the dead men, in finding the
bodies of Sergt. Angell and Corp. Champney, and by torchlight laid
them quietly to rest under the magnolias near their quarters, beside
another of their comrades, Joseph A. Morris, whose body had been
recovered early in the day.
It would swell our sketch to an unwieldy size to record the names and
good qualities of all those fell on this day, or of the wounded who
passed weary months on hospital beds. Those who saw them know how
well they did their duty. In another place, will be found a full list
of the casualties.