June 23d the brigade was withdrawn from this position for a day's rest.
Our stay at this point had been almost equivalent to continuous
fighting. We had lost men every day in killed and wounded. At
headquarters we had received orders to prepare to move. After we were
packed up ready to march, there was still a little delay before
starting. Young Robbins and myself sat down with our backs against a
tree, taking it easy. As we were sitting thus, a bullet came singing
over, and struck the tree close to our heads. The ball was so far spent
that it did not enter the tree, and was picked up by Robbins. We
concluded this would do as a parting salute, and soon got out of that
without any lingering regrets.
On the morning of the 24th the brigade moved to the left, and went into
works before occupied by men of the Second Corps, on the Jerusalem
plank-road. They should have reached this position before daylight, but
did not. They could have reached the works with very little exposure by
coming in a little further to the right. Instead of this, the column was
led by Colonel Carle through open ground, less than eighteen hundred
yards from rebel batteries. These, of course, opened on them with shell,
causing considerable loss. Moreland, of our company, was among the
killed. A shell struck him in the chest. The men, without waiting for
orders, but without disorder, moved obliquely to the right, to reach the
protection of lower ground, which there led up to the works. This called
forth such violent protest and condemnation from Colonel Carle, that the
result was a serious mutiny in the One Hundred and Ninetieth. Both
officers and men felt that it was a blunder and an outrage to be thus
needlessly exposed; and when Carle cursed them as cowards, they resented
it. Confusion followed. The officers, almost to a man, refused to obey
orders, or do any thing, until the insult should be retracted. The men
were becoming dangerous. Carle rode up to Adjutant Wright, and ordered
him to restore order, and take the men on to the works. Wright replied
defiantly and profanely. Carle laid his hand on his pistol. Instantly a
score of rifles were leveled on him. Yells and curses resounded on every
side. He withdrew his hand, apologized to both officers and men, and
they moved on to the rifle-pits without further trouble. Carle had the
reputation of being a good officer; but it was said that he was under
the influence of whisky at this time. I was with the brigade tent and
baggage, and knew nothing of this until I visited the company the next
evening. Neither do I remember who was in command of the regiment on
this occasion. I think the colonel, lieutenant-colonel, and major were
all absent, wounded. After we had been here a few days, arrangements
were made to desist from picket firing; and after this we were no longer
subjected to the peril resulting from this useless and barbarous
practice. The loss of men from this cause was said to be about eighty a
day in Grant's army, and was probably not less on the other side. Where
the lines were so close, it was probably necessary and justifiable.
I remained at brigade headquarters until some time after July 4th, and
was then relieved and returned to the regiment. It was then posted on
the left of the Jerusalem road. Our camp was on sloping ground, the
rifle pit at the foot of the slope. A few rods in front rose a slight
ridge, and beyond this, a narrow fringe of timber shut out the rebel
works from direct view. In this timber, or just beyond it, were our
pickets. The well from which we obtained our supply of water was between
our rifle-pits and the ridge spoken of. Further to the left, our line
extended into woods, where the timber had been "slashed" in front for
several hundred yards.
Back of where Company C's camp was, on the left side of the road as you
faced the works, we soon after began the construction of a fort, called
Fort Warren. It was four hundred feet square, strongly and carefully
constructed. When finished, the ditch must have been twelve feet deep.
The rebels did not get the range of our position at first, but annoyed
us a good deal at times by pitching shells around at a venture. In a few
days they would strike the vicinity of the fort with considerable
accuracy, and kept at it with a persistence which showed that they were
certain of the locality. After the work had progressed some time we felt
no concern about the shelling. If it became too lively, we would
stretch ourselves in the bottom of the ditch, and wait for the thing to
let up, with great resignation, as we preferred this to working.
The confederate gunners had a way of sending shells "hopping" across,
which was rather uncomfortable. One evening they were entertaining us in
this fashion. The little ridge in front of our pits generally prevented
shells from striking them, though the camp on the sloping ground behind
was exposed. We had gone down to the works, waiting for the rebels to
get through with their fun, which we regarded as comparatively harmless.
We could see the flash of the gun, and by the time the shell would
arrive, we would be safely sheltered behind the pit. One of these,
however, struck the pit a few feet to my left. We waited a few seconds,
expecting to hear it explode. Thinking the fuse had been extinguished,
the men had risen up again and were indulging in jocular remarks over
the matter, when, to our astonishment, the shell exploded in the air
about ten feet high and nearly over the works, not far from where it
struck. Where it had been during the intervening seconds we could not
imagine. Fortunately no one was injured.
At this time, one of the men, who had not yet had supper, became
impatient and started out for water. Just as he reached the well a shell
came bounding over and struck him. A single exclamation of pain
announced the result. Some of the men were at his side in a moment. A
stretcher was procured, and he was carried back to the ambulance stand,
to be taken to the hospital. The shell struck him about midway between
the knee and ankle, leaving the fragment dangling by a few shreds.
While engaged in constructing Fort Warren we alternated in work with a
regiment of colored troops. They were fine, soldierly fellows, and stood
the shelling quite as well as any green troops.
At the entrance of the inclosure, of course, there was no ditch, a space
being left about twelve feet wide. Passing along, one day, I saw a young
colored soldier standing on this narrow passage between the ditches,
curiously examining a twelve-pound shell which had been thrown over, and
had failed to explode. Addressing him and taking the shell in my hands,
I proceeded to give him a scientific explanation of how the thing
worked. After expatiating at considerable length and in glowing language
on the prodigious effects of such projectiles, I then unfolded to him
the manner in which this particular sample might be exploded.
"Do you see that thing?" pointing to the fuse.
"Yes, sah, I sees him," replied the dusky warrior.
"Well, now, if I spit on that--the thing will go off. See here--_yeep!_
_yeep!_" as I spat on it and hurled it into the ditch. With a yell and a
screech a Comanche might have been proud of, that darkey "lit out." As
he ran he turned his head, and seeing me dancing a war-dance to work off
the extra hilarity which his fright had occasioned, he pulled up and
joined in the laugh.
Work at this place continued about two weeks. One morning we were roused
up before daylight and ordered to strike tents quietly. In ten minutes
the column was moving down the plank road toward the rear. We went about
half a mile and camped. The next morning we again struck tents before
daylight, and moving toward the front, we formed line of battle in the
rear of Fort Warren. Here we lay till after sunrise, when we returned to
about the same place from which we had started. What all this meant was
more than we could make out, but we supposed that an attack was
anticipated.
We were then placed on picket still farther to the left. We called it
picket duty; but as far as I could ascertain, we were the only force in
front of the enemy on this part of the line. This ground had been fought
over. The Second Corps had been driven from here June 23d, with heavy
loss of men and guns. From the manner in which the trees were cut and
splintered by bullets and cannon-shot, it would scarcely seem possible
for a human being to remain alive on part of the ground. The loss had
been terrible. Many of the dead had been buried in the trenches. Others,
by the score, were buried where they fell, in rebel fashion, by throwing
some dirt over them where they lay. Now, after the lapse of a couple of
weeks, the dirt had washed from them, in some instances. Here and there
you might see an arm, a leg, or a ghastly head protruding from a slight
mound of earth. If any man was enamored of the glory of war, it was
good for him to sit down and meditate in such a field as this.
Two of the boys sat down to their dinner, one day, near some bushes at
the edge of the woods. The coffee was poured out, the frying-pan, with
its contents of fried meat was beside the blackened coffee-cups. They
were squatted on the ground on either side eating with a hearty relish,
when one of them noticed more closely the bushes just overhanging the
frying-pan, within a few inches of it. A human hand, dried, black,
shriveled, protruded from the leaves, the distorted fingers in attitude
as if about to make a grab at the contents of the pan. You suppose they
turned away in horror at such an intrusion on their feast. Why so? The
dead were all around us. When we slept at night behind the trenches, we
made our beds by them. Under such circumstances human nature suffers a
reaction, and horrors become the common things of life. These young men
did nothing of the kind. With a light remark suggested by the idea of
such a party wanting to rob them of their dinner, they moved the pan a
little, and finished their meal. This done, they examined further, and
found it to be the half-buried remains of a rebel soldier. On a scrap of
paper they found the name, company, regiment, and State. The paper also
contained a request for the burial of the body. They prepared a grave
and buried him. Then as a matter of courtesy and humanity, one of them
went out between the lines and was met there by a rebel soldier, to whom
he related the circumstances, and requested him to join in this becoming
duty by preparing a properly inscribed head-board. This was cheerfully
done, and the board set up at the grave. In passing to and fro between
the lines other dead were found, and these, too, were decently interred.
The days passed on pleasantly, and without special incident. No videttes
were kept out, except in the night. None were needed, as the ground was
open and level between us and the enemy. There was no picket firing, and
we had a very comfortable time of it. We could watch the artillery
"practice," which took place almost every evening, between the batteries
on our right, without any apprehension that they would practice on us.
One evening I sat on the rifle-pit, watching this. Scores of the men
were doing the same, or were idling the time away as suited them best.
The sun had sunk from sight; but as the shells would burst over the
rebel redoubt, which was then the mark of our artillerists, they seemed
balls of silver, in the rays of the sun, now invisible to us. Then they
would expand, and roll away in little snowy cloudlets, almost before the
sound of the explosion would reach us. Suddenly a great column of smoke
shot upward from the redoubt; dark at first, but turning to a silver
whiteness, as the rays of the sun touched it. A sound that seemed to
shake the earth came rumbling through the air. A shell had reached and
exploded the magazine. A laugh, with a cheer here and there, ran along
our heavy picket-line. The rebels called out: "Stop laughing, Yanks!"
"Stop that laughing!"
Whether this would have resulted in an outbreak between the pickets, is
uncertain; but a moment later a shell came screaming across, about ten
feet above the pits, passing a few rods to my right. Thinking this was
but introductory, the men dived for the pits, and the laugh was suddenly
and indefinitely postponed. Then a general "ha-ha" rose from the rebel
pickets, and good nature was restored.
Some time in July I was taken sick with fever. I stayed a day or two at
the surgeon's tent, but can not remember much about what occurred. I
gave away every thing I had. Fortunately I gave my gun to Joe Bovard,
who took care of it. I remember nothing of this, but he told me so
afterward. I have also an indistinct recollection of being sent away in
an ambulance, of being very sick at City Point, of the dull, dreamy
indolence of convalescence. I was then sent to Davis' Island, New York.
I improved rapidly during the voyage. I was here but a few days when I
received a furlough, to report at Philadelphia, September 10th. The
patriotic people of Pittsburg had ample and generous arrangements to
care for the sick and wounded soldiers that passed through their city.
Arriving there weak and dispirited, a gentleman met me at the train, and
took me to a place where every convenience and comfort was provided. I
had looked so long on the forbidding, bloody front of war, that it was a
most pleasing revelation to discover that back here was the warm, loving
heart of Peace.