The morning of February 5th found our camp in a bustle of preparation.
We had orders to march, leaving our tents "_in statu quo_," taking only
overcoats, arms, and haversacks. General Warren was mounted on his old
gray horse. This we regarded as a sure sign that a fight was on the
programme. The column headed toward the left. Then we knew that Warren
had done well to mount the old gray. A tender spot of the Confederacy
lay in that direction. The "Southside Railroad" was the main artery that
carried life-blood to the rebel army, and was guarded with jealous care.
The morning was bright, crisp, and frosty. The men were in excellent
spirits. We had with us a number of waggish fellows that would be the
life of any company, jovial, hearty, able to bring forth a joke under
the most forbidding circumstances. One of these (Smith let us call him)
had served eight years in the regular army before the rebellion, and
had been in the volunteer service during the entire war. He was a
sturdy, big-hearted fellow, now becoming somewhat gray with years. His
favorite word was "Woo-haw," which he pressed into service quite
frequently. From this we called him "Old Woo-haw."
Some time in the forenoon we found the enemy intrenched at Rowanty
Creek, just below the junction of Gravelly Run and Hatcher's Run. From a
slight ridge about three hundred yards back, open ground sloped down to
the run, where there were a few small trees on the bank, which sloped
abruptly to the water. The stream was perhaps fifteen feet wide. On the
other side the ground rose again as abruptly as on the side next to us;
and on the bank were the rebel rifle-pits, this side of the stream being
also covered with woods. It was not more than twenty-five or thirty
yards from the side of the stream on which we were approaching to the
pits beyond.
At this time I was armed with a Springfield rifle, muzzle-loader, while
the rest had the Spencer. I never professed to have a natural appetite
for cold lead, broken bones, etc., and very much disliked to go into a
skirmish with a "long Tom." However, there was no help for it. The
sharp crack of carbines showed that the cavalry had met with stubborn
resistance. At the first halt after we heard firing, I loaded her up and
was ready.
As the head of the regiment reached the ridge, we halted. The cavalry
were keeping up a lively fire just ahead and on the right, and there was
every prospect of an interesting time. Very soon we were ordered forward
to skirmish. As the order was received, Smith remarked, with a peculiar
twang to his heavy voice and an odd twist of his head:
"Now, boys, the woo-hawin' is a-goin' to begin."
We followed the road over the ridge, and filed to the right on a
farm-road which led in this direction. As we filed right Colonel
Pattee's voice rang out:
"Deploy, skirmishers!"
We came around the corner on a run, and as the order was given the men
faced toward the enemy, and advanced as they deployed. Before the rear
of the regiment had left the main road, the rest were charging down
through the open field. They looked like a mob as they broke ranks and
went pell-mell over the field, yelling like madmen. But there was
method in their disorder, and before they had passed over half the
distance they were in as good position as if they had gone about it in
the most formal manner. It was a reckless movement; but the officers
were not responsible for it, as no order was given except to deploy.
Reaching the stream, we found it covered with ice, on which we hoped to
cross. One of the foremost boys stepped upon it, and it at once gave
way, and let him into the water. Just the top of his head stuck out
above the fragments of ice. He was fished out as expeditiously as
possible, and the idea of crossing in that way was abandoned. Men came
down with axes, and proceeded to fell trees across the run on which to
cross. While this was going on, we did our best to keep the rebels down
behind their works, and render their fire ineffectual. We soon succeeded
in this, but not until they had inflicted some loss. Sullivan was
standing a little below me, when a bullet clipped by his left hip,
cutting his pants about three inches, but doing no harm. A ball touched
my hand as I was capping my gun. Others struck close around. Soon the
trees were down, and part of the men crossed, while others kept careful
watch on the rebels, and fired rapidly to keep them down. When enough
had crossed, perhaps forty or fifty, then every body yelled, and those
who had crossed charged the pits, and the rest came crowding over. Some
of the rebels surrendered, and a few escaped. As the final charge was
made, the line of battle came down, reaching the run just in time to
lose some men. There may have been some reason unknown to us for
bringing them down; but as far as we could see, it was a mistake. Our
loss was fifteen wounded and one or two killed.
The losses of a regiment do not always show its courage nor its
effectiveness as a military organization, but rather its lack of
discipline, and unskillful handling. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was
composed of well-trained, veteran soldiers, and had good officers. This
fight shows how such a regiment may incur serious disaster without room
for just reflection on the skill, courage, or discipline of men or
officers. Had a much stronger force been behind those works, situated as
they were, our heedless charge would have resulted in a bloody repulse,
unless speedily supported by a charge from the line of battle, which
would have involved heavy loss.
The road which we had followed is called the stage-road. Crossing the
run, we followed it in the direction of Dinwiddie Court House, until we
reached the Quaker road. The enemy was not encountered in our front, but
farther to the right there was severe fighting along Hatcher's Run.
During the night we moved to a position near Dabney's Mill. I think we
followed the Vaughan road. In crossing Gravelly Run, there was some
delay in getting the column over. After we had reached the other side,
and were waiting for the others, a colonel offended one of the men of
Company A, ordering him away from a fire by which the colonel was
standing. This called forth some of the liveliest sort of vituperation.
Such combinations of opprobrious epithets are rarely exhibited. That
man's relatives, near and remote, male and female, were brought into
requisition to define the exquisite meanness of his nature and origin.
The discomfited nabob appealed to Colonel Pattee for redress, who sent
Adjutant Wright back to quiet the boys.
During the day we moved out from our position near the run, into the
woods in front, and formed line of battle. The One Hundred and Ninetieth
was in the line. The day was dismal. Rain and snow had fallen during the
preceding night, and now it was growing colder. Our line advanced over
ground partly swampy. In maneuvering to pass one of these difficult
places, the Two Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania was massed behind us, and
came crowding close after. Some of the men would break through the crust
of ice, and sink into the mud beneath. Among others, George Dunn,
notwithstanding the size of his feet, went plunging in, half-way to his
knee. When the foot was withdrawn, it was found that the shoe had been
left in the depths below. George hesitated, thinking, perhaps, to
attempt a rescue; but it was too late. The Two Hundred and Tenth, coming
on in close divisions, trampled it down beyond all hope of recovery.
Advancing some distance, the line halted. The formation of the Second
Division must have been imperfect, on account of the nature of the
ground. This probably caused the delay.
On the right a severe engagement was in progress, and in front was some
skirmishing. The men, as usual with them when placed in line of battle,
were uneasy and dissatisfied. Soon they began to go out, one at a time,
then by twos and threes, toward the front. No objection was made by the
officers, until the line began to grow thin. A little later, part of the
line became engaged; but, as the right of the corps had been checked, we
were soon withdrawn, and took a position not far from the run, where we
intrenched and held the ground. Here we were on the left, where our line
rested on the run. We were considerably annoyed by shells, which came
nearly from our rear. Our pits faced down the run, and afforded no
protection from shells coming from the enemy's position at our right.
On the morning of the 8th we had orders to "fall in," and soon we were
in line, ready to move. Passing to the right a short distance, we
halted, at a gap in the rifle-pits, where a road led out to the front; I
think it was the Vaughan Road. Soon an aid rode up to Colonel Pattee
with orders. Some one inquired, of those standing nearest the colonel,
what the orders were. One of them replied, with the utmost seriousness:
"The orders are for the One Hundred and Ninetieth to report in ---- in
less than ten minutes."
We passed out on this road some distance, and then bore to the right,
over ground strewn with dead horses, that had been killed during the
cavalry fighting of the preceding days. After advancing about a mile, we
halted in open ground, and formed line of battle. On our right, and some
distance in front, was timber. We hastily intrenched, for this purpose
tearing down a house. We judged that the enemy would not let us remain
long undisturbed; nor were we mistaken. Through the still, frosty air we
heard the sound of preparation. We could hear the officers giving
orders, and the snapping of caps as they prepared to load. Their line of
battle extended far past our left, and a line was evidently preparing to
come down on our right flank. We threw up pits on each flank, and
waited, uncertain of the result. We knew of no arrangement to prevent
our being overwhelmed by numbers. This suspense continued for some time,
and we expected every moment that the vengeful storm would burst upon
us. But now an aid was seen galloping toward us, and we were ordered to
withdraw from our exposed position. We lost no time in regaining the
works we had left in the morning. What this little side show was for, we
could not imagine. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding.
The same day we recrossed Hatcher's Run, and began the construction of
permanent works on that side. We worked by reliefs, three hours on duty
and three off. We had run out of provisions, and a fresh supply failed
to arrive. The men became dissatisfied, and finally refused to work.
Threats of compelling them to work were made. The men answered by
gathering up their guns and starting for the woods, in the rear. At this
point General Warren came down and spoke to the men in a reasonable
manner. The mere fact of his coming among them had a good effect on the
men. He urged the necessity of the work, and told them that if
provisions were not on hand by a given time, he would consent to their
ceasing from work. The men then went to work cheerfully.
Jack M'Bride and myself had previously solved, in a measure, the
difficult problem of reconciling the conflicting claims of an empty
stomach and the vigorous prosecution of the war. As night came on, we
retired some distance into the woods, built a fire, and made ourselves
comfortable. The next morning we found a piece of pork, which had been
lost or thrown away three or four days before. It was good. We scraped
the mud from it carefully, and ate it with a relish. We then came back
and went to work with the rest.
After these works had been completed, we moved some distance down
Hatcher's Run, to a small branch of that stream, called Arthur's Creek.
Our position was on the left flank of the army, facing rather toward the
rear. For the third time this winter we built winter-quarters. Our camp
was pleasantly located, fronting a large farm, in the rear woods.
Brigade and division headquarters were in the woods, our picket-line in
the open ground beyond the farm-house, a mile from camp.
On the 7th of February, the next day after the fight near Dabney's Mill,
I got a Spencer rifle, and kept it until we were mustered out. The
spiral spring of the magazine was damaged in some way, so that it would
receive only four or five cartridges, instead of seven. I repaired it by
taking the spring out entirely. It would then receive nine or ten, and
a little practice made the experiment a success.
Duty was light, and our main business was amusing ourselves. For in-door
amusement, euchre was the favorite. There was not much gambling, but
many fine points were settled by "best three out of five." One form of
out-door amusement was the following: A peg was driven into the ground,
and to this were fastened two ropes, fifteen or twenty feet long. Two
men were then blindfolded, and placed one at the end of each rope, on
opposite sides of the peg. To one was given a notched stick, about two
feet long; and also another, to rub over it, making a scraping sound. He
was called the "scraper." To the other was given a pant-leg, or
something of this kind, stuffed with paper or rags. He was called the
"pounder," and it was his business to "pound" the scraper, if he could.
They were each required to keep hold of his rope. The boys would
sometimes stand around a circle of this kind by the hour, and watch the
fun. The two would move about with catlike caution, each listening for
the other. Sometimes the pounder would think he had the other, _sure_;
and, listening most earnestly, anticipated triumph shining from his
face, he would bring his weapon down on nothing. Again, the scraper,
thinking the pounder, who was right beside him, was far away, would rest
the end of his notched stick on the ground, and draw the other along it,
"scrape-scrape," when down would come the pant-leg on his head, followed
by shouts of laughter from the audience.
The soldiers built a large tent for religious meetings, and a revival of
extraordinary interest took place during our stay here. The noble
Christian young men who did this work remember those meetings with
satisfaction now, whether they are on earth or in heaven. They conducted
them without the aid of a minister. No! they themselves were ministers
of God, anointed from on high for this work.
Some of the conversions were remarkable. One young man, whom I had known
as a brave, fearless fellow, was converted during a meeting of peculiar
power. The change was plain and evident to all. His handsome face was
continually bright with the peace of God. He fell in battle, March 31st,
and died in the arms of his comrades, who were trying to carry him back
when our line was broken and routed.
As Spring drew near came the reviews and various movements that indicate
the approach of active operations. Some changes were made in the
brigade. It now consisted of the fragments of three Pennsylvania
regiments, the One Hundred and Ninetieth, One Hundred and Ninety-first,
and One Hundred and Fifty-seventh; two Delaware regiments, now
consolidated into one, and the Two Hundred and Tenth Pennsylvania. The
latter was a one-year regiment, and almost as large as the rest of the
brigade. They were a fine body of men, reliable and well-drilled. There
were but five commissioned officers in the One Hundred and Ninetieth.
Colonel Pattee and Adjutant Wright, Captain Birkman, Lieutenants Coleman
and Peacock. Captain Birkman had charge of Companies A, B, and C. The
One Hundred and Ninetieth and One Hundred and Ninety-first acted
together as one regiment, under command of Colonel Pattee. The fragment
of the One Hundred and Fifty-seventh--not more than forty or fifty
men--was regarded as a part of the One Hundred and Ninety-first.
We held this little band in high esteem. They were heroes, every man of
them. Captain Carter was in command. We were the Third Brigade, Second
Division, Fifth Corps.