_THE BEGINNING OF THE END._
On the morning of March 25th, I know not why, our camp was astir earlier
than usual. Heavy cannonading could be heard toward the right, but this
was nothing uncommon. As time passed on, the noise of strife continued,
and seemed to extend farther toward the left. Eating a hasty breakfast,
I started toward the scene of action, determined to ascertain the cause
of the unusual uproar. When starting from camp, I did not suppose it was
any thing more serious than an artillery fight of more than ordinary
interest. As I went on the sound swelled to a steady roar, which showed
that a determined battle was in progress. Drawing nearer, I saw the
troops in line of battle, the shells bursting, and cannon flaming as far
as the eye could reach.
I was informed that Fort Steadman had been taken, and a part of our
works captured by the enemy. Supposing that we would be ordered to the
right to retrieve the disaster, I started to return to camp. I had not
proceeded far when I saw the head of the column approaching. I hurried
back to camp and procured my gun and accouterments and started to
overtake the troops. I was joined by Lewis, who had also been absent.
Only the pickets and ordinary camp guard remained. As we passed along we
met President Lincoln, General Meade, and staff, coming toward the left.
We concluded to greet them with due ceremony. As we met them we halted
on the bank by the road and presented arms. The President raised his
hat, and turned to General Meade with some humorous remark as they rode
on. It seemed a reversal of things for the head of the nation to pass in
review before a couple of stragglers.
We found the Second and Third Divisions drawn up in the rear of the
works as support, awaiting events. A large number of prisoners passed to
the rear while we waited here. Farther to the left, the First Division
advanced on the enemy's works, and was repulsed with considerable loss,
but succeeded in establishing our lines nearer to those of the enemy.
We were not engaged, and returned to our quarters in the evening.
The next morning I started early to visit an acquaintance belonging to
the One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania, First Division. It was not
yet sunrise when I reached their camp. The acquaintance whom I had come
to visit was on picket, and I went out along the line to find him. The
pickets were stationed in woods, and the men were engaged in building or
strengthening their intrenchments. Passing along the line, I noticed
that the men kept close to the pits. I inquired if things were woolly
out there, and was informed that the latitude was decidedly unhealthy.
I now noticed a Yankee vidette about twenty-five yards in front, rifle
in hand, sticking close to a tree, and scarcely fifty yards farther on,
a rebel vidette peered cautiously past another tree. The vigilance with
which they watched each other revealed both the danger and security of
the situation. If all were watching each other as jealously as these, I
could continue my observations with comparative safety. A little farther
toward the left I reached open ground. Arrangements had been made,
under flag of truce, for burying our dead who had fallen in the battle
of the previous day. Quite a number of dead lay scattered over the
field, some of them close up to the rebel works. They were carried back
within our own lines and buried there. They were carried on blankets,
one man taking hold of each corner, and thus bearing them along.
Four men thus engaged, halted with their burden to rest as they were
passing near me. In the blanket lay a boy, certainly not more than
eighteen or nineteen years old. At first glance you could scarcely
believe that he was dead. Surely the grim King could not stamp upon
dying clay a smile so pleasant, a laugh so winning, as shone out from
those parted lips and half-closed eyes! But just over his heart,
half-concealed by his arm, that bloody rent in his blouse showed how he
died.
"Somebody's darling is cold and dead."
I looked upon that handsome, boyish face with wonder. The smile was so
happy and so life-like that the first impression was only that of light
and careless mirth; but the lines curved away into an expression of
solemn majesty, is if the passing spirit, thrilled with the full
perception of the grandeur of its own immortality, had left this impress
on the tenement of clay.
On the way back to camp, evidences were everywhere visible that the
final act of the great national tragedy would quickly come on. That
afternoon I made ready for active operations by purchasing from the
"commissary" a couple of pounds of extra coffee. The regulation quantity
was sufficient while in camp; but after a hard day's march there was a
strong inclination to throw an extra handful into the old coffee-pot. As
a result, the inexperienced frequently found themselves short after a
few days, to their discomfort and actual disadvantage.