BLOODY COLD HARBOR.
The next move in the great game of war between Grant and Lee was Cold Harbor—a name indelibly impressed upon every survivor of the campaign. It recalls two weeks of hunger, thirst, hardships that language is inadequate to describe; unsuccessful assaults and losses, that tell the story of most desperate fighting. It was Greek against Greek, veteran against veteran.
No one seems to know why the place was so named for, as Pat. Devereaux of our company expressed it, “’twas no harbor at all, and divil a drop of water to make ’wan wid.” Grant considered it an important point, however, and tried to get there ahead of Lee, but as a “comrade in gray” expressed it, “Uncle Robert wasn’t caught napping anywhere.”
Our corps reached there at a little past 6 the morning of June 2, after an all-night march with the heat and dust oppressive beyond description. An attack had been ordered for the morning, butwas postponed because of the exhausted condition of the troops.
A DESPERATE WISH.
If I tell you that I heard many wish that they might receive a wound in the impending fight you may think me “yarning,” but it is true nevertheless, for the men were so utterly worn out that they would have willingly risked a wound for the sake of the rest it would give them.
The troops were placed in position during the day and all instructions issued to the various commanders preparatory for the assault that was to take place at 4.30 the morning of the 3d.
A BUGLER’S GRIEF.
Pardon a little digression while I tell you about a bugler who was a bugler from “way back.” There were hundreds and thousands of buglers in the army, but I never heard one who could touch a note to George Gracey of our regiment. One blast of his trumpet would indicate the location of the 2d New York, among a score of regiments. There was music in every sound he made, and I have seen officers of other commands stop and listen when the little Swiss was trumpeting the calls.
At Cold Harbor he was selected by Gen. Hancock to sound the charge which sent 20,000 of his men into action, because his bugle could be heard clearer and farther than others. It was a proudmoment for our little bugler, but the story is not complete without telling you how the tender-hearted fellow sat down and wept like a child, when, a few moments later, he saw the ghastly procession of mangled and bleeding comrades coming back.
He was afterwards bugler for Gen. Nelson A. Miles at division headquarters and served until the close of the war. For many years he was bugler at the Bath Soldier’s Home.
I last saw him at a reunion of our regiment at Frankfort, N. Y., and, although he was bent over with the weight of three score years and ten, he had not forgotten his cunning with the bugle and when he alighted from an early morning train and let off a few blasts from his old war-scarred trumpet the citizens of that peaceful Mohawk village must have thought that Gabriel had come.
TAPS!
George Gracey has long since been “mustered out,” and he who had trilled that sweet, sad and long farewell at the graves of thousands of his comrades has had “taps” sounded for him.
THE BATTLE.
When the rays of the rising sun lifted the mists from the Chickahominy lowlands on the morning of June 3, 1864, Cold Harbor was scarcely known beyond the sound of a rifle shot. When that samesun was dropping behind the western horizon in the evening of that day the name was on the tongues of millions all over the land.
Promptly at 4.30 a. m. the attack was made by the 2d, 6th and 18th corps. Gen. Francis B. Barlow (after the war attorney general of New York) led our division and forced the enemy to retreat from a sunken road.
Gen. Nelson A. Miles was our brigade commander at the time.
Beyond the road was a hill from which the enemy’s artillery were enabled to do frightful execution. Barlow again ordered a charge and led his men with a rush, carrying everything before them, capturing several hundred prisoners, a stand of colors and three pieces of artillery. Gen. Gibbons’ second division on the right did some magnificent fighting. Gen. Birney’s third division were in reserve and not actively engaged.
The vigorousness of the contest may be inferred from the fact that the losses of the two divisions were over 2,200 and the assault was over inside of one hour.
The casualties of the other commands engaged brought the losses of that assault up to nearly 6,000 men.
Think of it! Quite one-fourth of the population of Watertown put out of action in less than one hour’s time.
The musicians of our regiment were not withthe assaulting column this day, but the writer had a father with the force and can assure the reader that it was a mighty anxious time until he found him unharmed.
BRAVERY OF THE WOUNDED.
We had plenty of work to do in assisting the surgeons. Acres of ground were covered with bleeding, mangled men with the dust and smoke of battle upon them. It was touching to notice how bravely most of them endured suffering while needing attention and comforts that could not be given them.
I recall how little Will Whitney, one of the “ponies” of our company as the boys were called, lay there on the ground shot clear through the body, patiently waiting his turn, while a big fellow with a wounded hand was dancing around and making a terrible fuss until Whitney, thoroughly disgusted, spoke out. “Shut up, there, old man, you’re not the only one that got scratched in this fight.”
I assisted to the rear another of the lads of Co. H, Henry C. Potter, a former schoolmate at Carthage, and as bright and promising a young man as any who went to the war. His left arm was badly shattered, necessitating an amputation. There was not a murmur; not a regret. He was glad it was not his right one, for with that saved he could be of some help to his father in the store.He made me promise to stay by him during the operation, and after it was over I assisted him into an ambulance and bade him a last good-bye, for he did not live to see Jefferson county again.
IN INTRENCHMENTS.
After the fighting of June 3 Gen. Grant instructed the commanding officers to have the troops intrench themselves as best they could.
In many places the lines were only forty or fifty yards apart. The ground all about was low and marshy, which caused chills and fever.
Our regiment occupied a sort of angle so that we were exposed to bullets from the flank as well as front. The sharpshooters got in lots of their deadly work at Cold Harbor, and if a head was shown above the earthworks several “minies” would go whizzing past. Just for fun the boys used to elevate their caps on a bayonet for the “Johnnies” to shoot at.
The men on the picket line dug holes or trenches to protect themselves and could only be relieved at night under the cover of darkness. All day long they would lie there in the broiling sun with little food or water, and between the lines were dead men and horses which polluted the atmosphere. Some of the wounded from the fight of the 3d were on the field up to the 7th, completely covered by the fire of the enemy’s pickets and sharpshooters,although the men made heroic efforts every night to bring their comrades in.
A TRUCE.
“Let us bury our dead:Since we may not of vantage or victory prate;And our army, so grand in the onslaught of late,All crippled has shrunk to its trenches instead,For the carnage was great;Let us bury our dead.”“Haste and bury our dead!No time for revolving of right and of wrong;We must venture our souls with the rest of the throng;And our God must be judge, as He sits over head,Of the weak and the strong,While we bury our dead.”
Gen. Grant made overtures to Lee the 5th for a truce, but no cessation of hostilities took place until the evening of the 7th, the hours being from 6 to 8.
The dead were buried where they fell and, strange as it may seem, quite a few men were found alive after lying there about four days without any food or water except what they may have had when wounded.
The case of a man I assisted in bringing in our lines who had five wounds on his body was a sad one, but the surgeons thought his life could be saved.
I wish I might find words to portray to the reader something of the impressiveness of the scene at Cold Harbor that night.
Imagine, if you can, two mighty armies—that for weeks had been grappling with each other in deadly contest, each doing its utmost to slay and destroy the other, laying aside their implements of war as the day draws to a close, and with the sun casting its last red glare over all, as out from the ranks on either side came the men of war on their errand of mercy; the blue and gray intermingling, looking for friends and comrades that had fallen; permitted to carry them back into their own ranks to live or die among those with whom they served.
The picture will never be effaced from my memory, and all who witnessed that or a similar scene, will heartily endorse the saying of the late General Sherman that “War is hell.”
REFUSED TO BE BURIED.
The burial of the dead on the battlefield had to be done so hurriedly many times that more than one poor fellow who perhaps had been stunned and left on the field had a “close call” to being buried alive. A case in mind was that of one at Cold Harbor who had been picked up as dead, and as the men dropped their burden by the open trench the shock resuscitated the man and he faintly asked:
“What’s going on, boys?”
The response was, “We were going to bury you, Shorty.”
“Not if I know myself,” he replied. “Get me a cup of coffee and I’ll be all right; I won’t be buried by that country clodhopper.”
The “clodhopper” referred to was the sergeant in charge of the squad, who belonged to a company of our regiment that came from the central part of the state, while the man who had been so near the “dark valley” was a member of a New York City company.
TO ARMS AGAIN.
At 8 o’clock sharp the white flags were furled, and the buglers from either side sounded the “recall.” The men returned to their commands, the swords were unsheathed, the muskets reloaded, the cannon unmuzzled and hostilities were resumed—such is war.
“Hark! the musketry roars, and the rifles reply:Oh, the fight will be close and the carnage be dread;To the ranks let us hie—We have buried our dead.”
HANCOCK AND HIS MEN.
General Hancock possessed to a remarkable degree the power of exciting to enthusiasm the men he so often led to victory. And even a drummer boy may be pardoned the pride he feels in the enduring fame of this intrepid commander.
During the ’64 campaign he was compelled to ride in an ambulance on the long marches because of the breaking out afresh of his old Gettysburg wound. But he did not ask a leave of absence, and when there was any fighting he mounted his horse and was at the head of his troops.
The personnel of his corps was probably the most unique of all the army. The most prominent organization and one deserving more than a passing notice was the famous “Irish brigade,” the representatives of that race which distinguished itself on the fields of Fontenoy.
This brigade never lost a flag, although it captured over twenty stands of colors from the enemy.The Irish brigade was probably the best known of any organization in the army.
It belonged to the first division of Gen. Hancock’s corps.
The brigade was in continuous service and lost over 4,000 men in killed and wounded, more men than it ever mustered at one time, for the regiments composing it were small.
The regiments which properly belonged to the brigade, together with their losses, were:
Sixty-third New York, with a loss of 156 killed; 69th New York, 259 killed; 88th New York, 151 killed; 28th Massachusetts, 250 killed; 116th Pennsylvania, 145 killed.
The old 69th New York lost more men in action than any other infantry regiment from the Empire State.
At the “Bloody Lane,” Antietam, eight color bearers of this regiment were successively shot down, and at Fredericksburg the color bearer was found dead with his flag wrapped around his body. Another instance illustrating the devotion of the brave Irish boys for the flag of their adopted country was at the “Bloody Lane,” where 16 men of the 63d New York were killed or wounded carrying the colors that day.
An incident of the brigade’s assault on Marye’s Heights was the distribution of little sprigs of green to the men as they stood in line waiting the order to forward. It is related that their gallantcommander, Gen. Thomas Francis Meagher, placed one in his cap. The assault failed, but not for lack of bravery and dash, as attested by the long, well-aligned row of dead within a few yards of the rebel breastworks; and by each ashen face was a sprig of Irish green.
There was another Irish brigade under Hancock composed of Pennsylvania troops, and commanded by Gen. Joshua Owen. They distinguished themselves at Gettysburg and were commonly known as “Paddy Owen’s regulars.”
Another brigade of the corps was known as “Corcoran’s legion.”
The second corps was prominent by reason of its long continuous service at the front. It inscribed upon its banners a greater number of engagements than any corps of the army. Likewise its casualty list was the largest.
It also had to its credit the capture of more men, guns and colors from the enemy than the rest of the Army of the Potomac combined.
Many years after the war General Hancock attended a national encampment of the G. A. R., and after the veterans had passed in review a distinguished U. S. Senator remarked to the general that he saw less of his old corps represented than other organizations and asked the reason why, to which Hancock replied, “The men of the 2d Corps, Senator, are mostly in heaven.”
THE GENERAL AND THE DRUMMER BOY.
A score or more of years after the war, when General Hancock was in command of the Department of the East, with headquarters at Governor’s Island, the writer happened in New York and the desire came over him to get a look at his old commander once more. He remembered that in the army there is a great disparity in the rank of a general in command and the boys who beat the drums, therefore he had no thought of a personal interview with the general. But when he was walking off the landing he saw a distinguished looking officer approaching, and recognizing him as the leader he had been proud to follow in other days, something of the old time enthusiasm of those days was rekindled, and as they met the ex-drummer boy saluted and made known his former connection with the general’s old command. No other introduction was necessary. The hearty greeting gave proof that Hancock had a warm place in his heart for the least of his “boys,” as he called them.
The general was planning a trip to Sandy Hook for that day to inspect some new ordnance and an invitation was extended to the ex-drummer boy to be one of the party. There were several distinguished officers in the company, but none received more attention from the general than his humble follower of the Sixties.
Later the writer exchanged two or three letterswith the general and in one he referred to his former command as follows: “Your references to the old 2d Corps bring up many pleasant and sad remembrances. It has always been my regret that it was not in my power to reward every man who served with me as he deserved.”
THE SOLDIER’S FARE.
A lady said the other day, “Tell us in your next what the men had to eat out at the front, how they managed to do the cooking, washing of clothes,” etc.
Well now, the cooking did not bother us one bit, for we did not have anything to cook. When at Cold Harbor we had not had a vegetable for weeks, and beef only twice, and the flesh was so tainted with wild onions, on which the cattle had fed as they were driven through the country, that it could hardly be eaten. Coffee, hard tack, sugar, with a small allowance of salt pork two or three times during a month was what we had to live on.
Money would not purchase anything because the sutlers were all sent to the rear when Gen. Grant crossed the Rapidan.
Each man carried a little tin pail in which he boiled coffee, holding it over the fire with a stick. A quartet of boys who were making coffee one morning at Cold Harbor had their breakfast spoiled by a piece of a shell dropping into the fire.
LAUNDERING ON THE MARCH.
When we started out on the campaign our well filled knapsacks made us the laughing stock of the veterans of the 2d Corps, but gradually we had lightened our loads until we were down to a blanket, half a shelter tent, possibly a towel and a piece of soap, and some little keepsakes, all of which were twisted up in the blanket and slung over the shoulder. When we came to a stream the men would pull off their shirts, rinse them and if no halt was made would put them back on wet, or else hang them on their guns to dry on the march.
IN ANOTHER MAN’S BOOTS.
After a few weeks our shoes were nearly worn out, and in this connection I must turn aside to tell you how one of my comrades came into possession of a nice pair of boots.
It was the day following a big battle. Our regiment was being moved to the left and in doing so we passed several amputating tables where the surgeons had performed their operations on the wounded the night before. Trenches had been dug at the ends of the tables but were filled to overflowing with hands, arms and legs. The boy espied a nice pair of boots protruding from one pile and, pulling them out, found that some staff officer had amputation performed above the knees. The limbs were drawn from the boots and the boy remarkedthat they were about his fit; so he exchanged his old shoes for them. I think I should rather have gone barefooted from there to Appomattox than to have done likewise.
TO PETERSBURG.
On the night of June 12, ’64, the withdrawal of the army from the trenches at Cold Harbor began. The picket lines were not disturbed until the army were several hours under way.
Of course there were all sorts of rumors as to where we were bound for. Many were of the opinion that we were going to White House landing and take transports for Washington, but Grant was not that kind of a general. He had started out to destroy Lee’s army and he was going to keep hammering away until they were licked.
The march from Cold Harbor was a hard one. It is a great wonder how men could bear up under the hardship, considering what they had gone through for several weeks.
No halt was made until morning, and after we had made coffee we were hurried on again. Would-be stragglers were forced along at the point of the bayonet.
Before we left Cold Harbor our colonel had given orders that all of the drummer boys who were without drum should be given a gun, but Iwas excused from carrying one on this march because of an injury caused by falling in a trench while removing wounded from between the lines one night. My father tried in vain to get me a chance to ride in an ambulance or wagon; there were not accommodations enough for the badly wounded.
We arrived at Wilcox’s Landing; on the James river the night of the 13th, where a pontoon bridge 2,000 feet long had been laid across the river.
The next morning the army crossed over, and it was a sight to stir the sensibilities of even a weary soldier, to see the thousands marching across the river, all in battle array. The water was dotted with tugs, gunboats and transports loaded with troops, and what made it more impressive to me was the thought that it was a real genuine thing and not a mere show.
A FORCED MARCH WITHOUT RATIONS.
It was expected that our haversacks would be replenished after we crossed the river, but Gen. Hancock received a dispatch from Meade, ordering him to march his command without delay to Petersburg. We started between 10 and 11 o’clock and at 6:30 that evening Hancock reported to Gen. Smith, commander of the 18th corps, whose troops had already engaged the enemy and captured some of the outer defenses of the city.
We relieved Smith’s troops in the front line ofworks under the cover of darkness, and it was nearly midnight before we were in position and could lie down.
THE BATTLE OPENS.
At daylight Gen. Hancock ordered his brigade and division commanders to make reconnoissances in the front and the enemy was forced back all along the lines.
Our regiment advanced through a peach orchard, exposed to a scathing fire of musketry.
Col. Whistler was struck in the face by a bullet, while superintending the deploying of skirmishers, but was not disabled so but that he remained with the regiment, but it did make him fighting mad, and as he walked up and down the line with the blood dropping all over the front of his clothes he indulged in “cuss” words of the most expressive kind.
After the fighting quieted down, Adjt. Brazee persuaded him to go to the rear. He was breveted brigadier general for his conduct that day, and given command of a brigade after his recovery. (Maj. Whistler of the regular army is a son of the officer mentioned.)
Capt. Barry, the favorite officer of the line in our regiment, was killed that morning, and the beloved commander of the Irish brigade, Col. Patrick Kelly, one of the best officers of the 2d corps,fell with the colors in hands while leading his men in a charge on a rebel fort.
The balance of the army not having arrived Gen. Meade ordered Hancock to hold his position until evening, when a general attack would be made.
A HOT PLACE.
Our regiment had been in some pretty hot places that summer, but the position that day was a little nearer the infernal regions than we had ever been before. A low stone wall was our only protection from the enemy, who were well intrenched in some woods about 75 yards distant across an open field.
Behind us the ground sloped down to a little brook which had its waters reddened with the blood of thousands of boys in blue a few hours later.
Several batteries were massed in the rear of us and they kept up a furious cannonading to detract attention from the movements of the troops elsewhere.
The air was full of hissing shells, which passed so close to us that we could feel their hot breath, and one would involuntarily clap his hand to his head expecting his cap to be swept off. Our position was so near the enemy that occasionally a shell would burst over us, wounding some of our men. Lieut. Col. Palmer of our regiment was so wounded, a ball from a spherical cased shell striking him inthe breast and, passing through his body, lodged back of the shoulder blade.
Palmer sat down under a tree and told our surgeon to cut it out. The doctor suggested that he better take something for the operation. But Palmer’s grit was of the right sort and taking off his slouch hat he slapped the ground with it and said: “Go ahead, doc, and cut the damned thing out, and be lively about it, too, for others need your attention.”
Finally the casualties became so numerous that Maj. McKay went to the artillery officer and told him he was killing off our own men and if he did not cut his fuses longer he would order his regiment to take the battery, and when a little later a staff officer rode over and ordered the major under arrest he found out that a captain of a battery was one not to be fooled with when in line of duty.
RATIONS AND A CLOSE CALL.
In the afternoon we heard the welcome news that rations were waiting us in the rear and details were made from the several companies to go after them.
The writer went with Sergt. “West” Powell and the squad from our company. In order to get back to the supply trains it was necessary for us to cross several open spaces fully exposed to the fire of the confederates.
When we came to such a place we would separate, run a few yards and throw ourselves on theground, while the bullets would go whizzing over our heads.
On our return each one carried a rubber blanket slung over his shoulder, containing rations for our hungry comrades. While we were creeping along close to an abandoned earthwork a shell struck the bank and exploding, hurled dirt and gravel over and about us.
Something struck me on the side of my head and thinking I was shot I fell on the ground and called to my companions. They gathered around and on examination found I was sound except for a discolored spot and a stinging sensation probably caused by a small stone striking me.
My nerves were thoroughly shattered, however, and it took some minutes for me to muster up courage to get on my feet and face the music again.
MEMORIES OF AN IMPRESSIVE SCENE.
The 5th and 9th corps caught up with the army that day and while we were back at the wagon train we saw them marching into position on the left of our corps preparatory to the assault that was delivered later in the day.
Two-fifths of a century has passed since the roar of the conflict that raged before Petersburg was hushed. The commanders of the opposing armies, indeed, most of the great actors, are dead, while a large portion of the rank and file haveanswered the last roll-call, but the impressiveness of that scene is still fresh in my memory. As I write it all comes back to me. The long lines of blue with their glistening bayonets; the gleaming sabres of the cavalry; the tattered banners. On a little knoll was Gen. Warren the gallant commander of the 5th Corps sitting sidewise on his horse with field glass in hand surrounded by staff officers and couriers. The artillery was thundering. The rattle and roar of musketry along the lines was constant, and when the sun had dropped behind the horizon at the close of that day thousands of the blue and the gray were stretched out all over the fields.
And the stars in Heaven, that night, looked down on scenes of suffering and horror that it is impossible to describe.
June 17 was a day full of stirring events. The fighting was desperate and alternated between the different divisions and corps. Gen. Burnside’s 9th corps had the honors of the day, capturing several redans, a number of pieces of artillery and several hundred prisoners with their colors.
June 18, Gen. Grant ordered another general assault, which resulted in heavy losses and no success. Ten thousand men were killed and wounded in the three days’ effort to capture Petersburg by direct assault. I find in Fox’s statistics of regimental losses that he credits our regiment with54 killed and 218 wounded and missing in the three days’ conflict, and many commands fared worse.
The killed, wounded and missing of our regiment from May 18 to June 23d, were according to Fox, 584.
The troops were now thoroughly exhausted, owing to the incessant movements, both day and night, for about six weeks. There had not been 24 hours in which they had not been in close contact with the enemy. The confederates acting on the defensive had been spared the long circuitous marches as well as the costly experiences of assaulting intrenchments.
Gen. Humphreys, who was chief of staff of the Army of the Potomac in 1864, placed the losses of the army from May 4 to June 19 as 61,400, of which 50,000 were killed and wounded.
RESTING WHERE THERE IS NO REST.
We rested three days, if it can be called rest where there is a constant interchange of shots so that one was liable to get a bullet through his head if it was exposed above the breastworks.
At night the artillery indulged in duels and the shots could be seen traveling in the air. The curves of the shells from the mortars reminded us of the Fourth of July rockets and the boys called it their display of fireworks.
What the men suffered that summer in thetrenches before Petersburg none will ever know except those who experienced the hardships.
We had no tents except the little shelter tents and probably one-half of the men were without those, consequently we had to resort to all kinds of contrivances to get shelter. Some dug individual bombproofs which not only furnished protection from the sun but were proof against any stray piece of shell that might drop among us. Our clothing had been worn for weeks, bathing was out of the question and cooking had to be done far in the rear.
Life in camp with plenty of well cooked rations, sufficient tent accommodations, extra clothing, plenty of water for cooking and bathing and life in the trenches in close contact with the enemy is quite another story.
TESTING THE METAL.
Constant marching, fighting and digging trenches for several weeks is the kind of soldiering that weeds the chaff out of a regiment, and it was noticeable that many officers who had been conspicuous on dress parades and reviews at Washington had failed to toe the mark when put to the test.
“SLEWING” TO THE LEFT AGAIN.
On the evening of the 21st our corps was ordered to move to the left and the 9th corps took its place in the trenches. The movement was forthe purpose of extending the lines and getting possession, if possible, of the Weldon and South Side railroads, and, as usual, the 2d corps was selected to lead.
Gen. Birney was temporarily in command of the corps, Gen. Hancock’s wound giving him so much trouble that he had to take a few days’ rest.
The 6th corps had been ordered to support the 2d, but owing to the thick woods in the vicinity of the railroad the corps became separated and the confederates under Gen. A. P. Hill slipped in between the two commands and the first intimation we had of their presence was a furious firing on the flank and rear of our division which caused much confusion. So sudden and unexpected was the attack that part of several regiments and their colors were captured and Gen. Gibbons’ second division lost four cannon.
The next morning the lost ground was regained and in this position we remained some time, erecting Forts Davis and Sedgwick, which were about a half mile apart south of the old Jerusalem plank road.
CELEBRATING THE FOURTH.
The Fourth of July, 1864, our bands played “Yankee Doodle” and other national airs, while strains of “Dixie,” “My Maryland,” etc., floated over from the rebel side. In the evening the usual artillery duels furnished fireworks for the occasion.
The lines were farther apart where we were at this time than over on the right near the Appomattox River, and the pickets used to meet on friendly terms under the cover of darkness. Of course there were strict orders against it, but they were disobeyed nightly and the men met and swapped stories, coffee for tobacco, newspapers, etc., and went back to their lines and were shooting at each other again the next day.
LINCOLN AT THE FRONT.
President Lincoln made a visit to the front about this time and was enthusiastically received.
The men knew by his looks, his kind words to the sick and wounded that he was in deep sympathy with them, and I think his presence was of untold benefit to the rank and file of the army.
DRUMMED OUT OF CAMP.
The only man I ever saw drummed out of camp was down in front of Petersburg. He was a coward, and large placards proclaiming the fact were suspended from his neck, one on his breast and the other on his back, his head was shaved and a fifer and drummer marched him all through the division to the tune of the “Rogue’s March,” and then he was given a dishonorable discharge and sent home.
CAVALRY VS. HEAVY ARTILLERY.
Among the deserters from our company when we were in the forts, at Washington, was one whom we met more than a year later.
One day, on the march as we were taking a few moments rest by the roadside a regiment of cavalry came along and halted opposite us. All at once one of our boys exclaimed “Well, I’ll be blowed if there isn’t Sam P——,” and sure enough there was our long lost Sam sitting astride of a horse.
“Hello, Sam!” was shouted by several of his old comrades, and one ventured to ask what he had left his first love for?
Sam’s reply was about as follows: “I was willing to serve my country, but I’m cussed if I ever liked that heavy infantry business. It was a dirty, mean trick for them to enlist us for flying artillery and then change to heavy, and I didn’t propose to tread mud with a big knapsack on my back, a musket and 40 rounds of ammunition, so I just transferred myself to the cavalry.”
About this time the bugles sounded “forward” and as Sam rode away with the dusty troopers he called out; “Good-bye old company H,” and that was the last we ever saw of him, but I doubt not he rendered good service in the cause for he was not a bad fellow, even if he did prefer cavalry to heavy artillery.
GRANT’S HEADQUARTERS AT CITY POINT.
City Point, a little insignificant wharf town on a point of land at the intersection of the Appomattox with the James River, about 25 miles from Richmond and seven or eight miles from Petersburg, leaped into world-wide importance in 24 hours in June ’64.
Gen. Grant made his headquarters there until the surrender of Lee and it was the base of supplies for the army of the James, as well as the army of the Potomac.
Think if you can what it would mean to Sackets Harbor, if an army of 75,000 to 100,000 men should make that town the base of its operations against Watertown, and over on the Pillar Point shore was another army half as large.
Do you know what it means to clothe and feed such an army with the bare necessities, to say nothing of what the horses require to live upon or of the shiploads of ammunition that was used in the nine months’ operations?
All had to be transported there by water, soyou can imagine what a vast number of transports filled the river.
Admiral Porter’s fleet of monitors, gunboats and other warlike craft were anchored off Bermuda Hundred in sight of Grant’s headquarters, which was a modest log house on the bank of the Appomattox.
Gen. Grant was the least pretentious general officer in the army and used to walk and ride around with only one orderly with him, and seldom wore any insignia of his rank.
About a mile from his headquarters, towards the front, were the great field hospitals of the army. Large wall tents were used and they covered a vast acreage of ground.
It is not likely that so many sick and wounded were ever gathered together in this country before, and it is to be hoped that there may never be a repetition of it.
Transports left daily loaded with sick and wounded, for as soon as a patient could stand the trip he was sent north to make room for the daily arrivals from the front.
President Lincoln and many other distinguished men were Gen. Grant’s guests at different times, and Mrs. Grant spent most of the fall and winter with her husband.
The cannonading along Butler’s lines as well as at Petersburg could be plainly heard at City Point.
A WAR-TIME RAILROAD.
Gen. Grant wanted a railroad for the transportation of supplies and ammunition to the front and he had one built.
There was no pretense of grading; they just placed ties on top of the ground and laid the rails across them.
After the road reached the front it was run along in the rear of the lines and as they were extended the road followed.
The “Johnnies” got a range on the road for a mile or more and they wasted a lot of ammunition trying to hit the flying trains, which were partially protected by earthworks.
They did not run any parlor cars for the soldiers in those days and one day when the writer was the bearer of some dispatches to City Point he rode in a box car with Gens. Horace Porter, Forsythe and other officers of Grant’s staff, and it occurred to him that we were in greater danger than when at the front. After we got out of the car I heard the engineer talking about the flying run and laughing about the shaking up he gave the officers.
BEN BUTLER.
Ben Butler was the most unique character of the civil war on the Union side and was as full of eccentricities then as in public life in later years.
When Gen. Grant started out on his campaign against Richmond in 1864 he sent Gen. Butler with a force of 40,000 soldiers around by water to operate from the south side.
Butler landed his army on Bermuda Hundred, a peninsula that lies between the James and Appomattox rivers and there the confederates hemmed him in, or as Gen. Grant expressed it, “bottled him up” until Grant’s army arrived at Petersburg. Then his intrenched position became of vast importance in the operations against the confederate capital.
The 10th artillery boys, who were with that portion of the army on Bermuda Hundred, will remember Butler’s “Dutch Gap” canal.
The historic James river, from City Point to Richmond, is one of the crookedest streams in the country, and the rebel batteries had command of a seven-mile bend in the river that Butler thought to get around by cutting across lots, so to speak.
The distance across was not much over a half mile, and Butler conceived the idea of a canal. The banks were high and it required a vast amount of labor to make the excavation.
The position was exposed to the fire of the rebel artillery and they kept up an incessant bombardment of the men at work who had holes in the banks after the manner of swallows and when things got too hot they would crawl into their individual bomb proofs.
Butler did not get his canal finished in time to be of service to the gunboats before the fall of Richmond but I understand it was completed after the war.
A TERRIFIC EXPLOSION.
One day when I happened to be at City Point a terrible explosion occurred. It was as though a hundred cannon had belched forth. The shock was almost overpowering. The ground trembled and the first thought was that the confederates had in some way gotten a position where they could shell Grant’s headquarters and the hospitals. Looking up we saw a dense column of smoke rise to a great height and then spread out like a parachute and from it fell death dealing missiles in every direction. Some exploded as far away from the landing as the hospitals. Shell flew in all directions. It literally rained muskets, sticks, pieces of iron, etc. When the smoke cleared away the scene from the bluff overlooking the wharves was sickening. Bodies were lying in every direction, blackened and many without heads, arms or legs.
The cause of the accident was a mystery until after the war when on the trial of Werz at Washington a rebel witness confessed that he had done it, making excuse that he had a package for the captain of an ammunition boat at the wharf. He knew the captain was away from the boat so heleft the package containing an infernal machine for him with the fuse adjusted so that an explosion would soon follow.
Among the other curiosities at the Point was a stockade where the rebel prisoners were corralled until they could be sent north. Another stockade was called a “Bull Pen,” where all the deserters, bounty jumpers, bummers and other freaks were kept until their cases could be disposed of.
LEE’S DESPERATE ATTEMPT.
One morning before daylight in March, 1864, when President Lincoln was at City Point, Lee made a desperate attempt to break the lines in front of Petersburg.
It is said his plan was to capture Fort Stedman and adjacent works, turn their guns on our demoralized troops, capture the railroad running to City Point and destroy Grant’s communication with his army.
Fort Stedman was held by the 14th New York heavy artillery, a regiment with many members from northern New York, and the lines at this point were very close together.
The confederate troops assigned for the desperate work were commanded by Gen. Gordon. Under the cover of darkness they stealthily advanced on the pickets, captured them and made a rush and captured the fort without hardly firinga shot and took prisoners part of a 9th corps division. The guns of the fort were turned on neighboring forts and the confederate troops pushed forward as far as the railroad cutting the wires that led to Grant’s headquarters. But their success was of short duration for our troops soon rallied and drove them out of Fort Stedman, and the movement proved a failure and a costly one to the confederates.
The next day President Lincoln and Gen. Grant visited the front lines.
“HANCOCK’S FOOT CAVALRY.”
Campaigning with the 2d corps in 1864 was strenuous enough to satisfy the most adventuresome. The frequent detours of the command from the rest of the army and the rapidity with which they had been shifted from left to right and right to left caused the confederates to style them as “Hancock’s Foot Cavalry.”
After the direct assaults on Petersburg failed the corps was sent to extend the lines to the Weldon and South Side railroads. Then Gen. Grant sent them north of the James to act in conjunction with Gen. Sheridan’s cavalry in an attempt to break the rebel lines at Chapin’s Bluff on the James river, near Deep Bottom, and after some stubborn fighting, they were ordered back to Petersburg to support Gen. Burnside’s forces at the mine explosion.
Then after a few days of comparative quiet Gen. Grant planned another moonlight excursion for the wearers of the trefoil.
On August 13, we marched to City Point and embarked on steamers, the destination of which we had no idea of. Many surmised we were going to Washington to assist in driving Early out of Maryland. Probably it was intended to give such an impression to the enemy, for we sailed down the river towards Fortress Monroe, but after dark the steamers were turned about and under the cover of darkness we were carried up towards Richmond, and a landing was effected the next morning at Deep Bottom.
The other troops at that point were the 10th corps and Gen. Gregg’s cavalry. Several unsuccessful attempts were made to break the rebel lines and the second day our troops had to fall back, and in this retreat our brave old color bearer was killed, and the national colors were barely saved from the hands of the enemy by the daring of a young man whose name I cannot recall. The bravery he displayed that day entitled him to a medal of honor and a commission, but he did not get either, although he did live to carry the flag until Lee’s surrender.
NO REST FOR THE WEARY.
After this affair we were returned to Petersburg and without any rest were hurried off to assistthe 5th corps in a demonstration across the Weldon railroad. Several miles of the track was torn up. The ties were burned and the rails piled on the fires. Rations having failed to connect, we subsisted principally on green corn, which was roasted over huge fires.
A PATHETIC INCIDENT.
In the movements to extend the left of Grant’s lines at Petersburg the cavalry always blazed the way, usually preceding the infantry by a few hours. I recall a touching incident that illustrates the devotion that a cavalryman’s horse has for the man who has been its inseparable companion for months.
We found one day a dead soldier lying on the ground and near him grazing was his faithful horse.
The bloated and discolored features of the dead cavalryman indicated that he had lain there for hours. Probably he had been on picket duty when “picked off” by some sharpshooter, and by his lifeless body his faithful and devoted charger had waited for the boy in blue who to his comrades was simply one of the “missing.”
REAM’S STATION.
The night of August 24, our corps rested at Ream’s Station a name of which many veterans have keen recollections. In the morning thepickets reported that the enemy were in force in the vicinity, and accordingly preparations were made to receive them. About 2 p. m. the enemy made an attempt to break that part of the line held by our division, which was then under command of Gen. Nelson A. Miles, but they were repulsed. Later a larger force, backed by 30 or 40 pieces of artillery made a second attempt and succeeded in forcing a portion of the line held by some troops new to the field. The situation was critical, as the confederates greatly outnumbered our troops and the enemy had worked around under the cover of the woods until the attacking force was on our flanks and rear. The affair would have ended disastrously but for the coolness and bravery of both Gens. Hancock and Miles, who rallied the troops and led them in person.
Gen. Hancock’s horse was shot under him, but with hat in hand he called on the officers and men of his old corps to stand by him and drive the enemy off. Ah, but he was indeed a superb officer, and men never desert such a leader.
Among the killed of our regiment that day was George Curtin, the popular leader of the regimental band. This was a fight in which it was all “front” and no chance for the musicians to get to the rear.
After this affair there was a lull in active operations for a while, the picket firing and artilleryduels along the intrenched front furnishing spice enough to relieve monotony.
In the latter part of October we “slewed” around to the left again, the object being to get possession of the South Side railroad. The second corps encountered a large force of the enemy on the 27th on the Vaughn road near Hatcher’s Run, and a fiercely contested battle took place. Portions of the 5th and 9th corps were also engaged.
Gen. Winslow’s regiment, the 186th New York, joined the 9th corps that day and were near enough to hear some of the fighting and get a smell of powder but I believe did not take a hand in the affair.
In November, Gen. Hancock was called to Washington by the secretary of war to organize a new corps for the army, which it was intended should be made up principally of veterans who had served their time and been discharged. The men of his old command who had served under him so long were greatly attached to him and regretted his departure exceedingly.
In a report to Gen. Grant he mentioned among other things the losses of his corps as 25 brigade commanders, 125 regimental commanders and over 20,000 men. Comment is unnecessary.
BIG BOUNTY MEN.
The army received large accessions of recruits during the fall of 1864. The big bounties hadinduced all sorts of characters to enlist. A large per cent. were professional “bounty jumpers,” who were ready to desert to the enemy at the first opportunity.
The 5th New Hampshire of our division, a regiment that had an enviable record as fighters, had their depleted ranks filled up with conscripts, substitutes and bounty takers who deserted in such numbers to the “Johnnies” that their pickets used to joke our men about sending over the colors of the regiment, and one day a huge placard was hoisted on the rebel intrenchments which read something as follows:
“Headquarters 5th New Hampshire vols. Recruits wanted.”
A member of our company while on picket one night shot one of the attempted deserters and as a reward was granted a 30-day furlough.
If a deserter was caught no mercy was shown him.
The penalty was death by shooting or hanging, usually the latter, as shooting was considered too honorable. Scaffolds were erected in the rear of the works and almost every Friday there were numerous executions along the lines.
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS LOOKED SMALL.
I recall a story told at the expense of one of the big bounty men who joined us just before setting out on the last campaign. He had hardly a chanceto learn to handle a gun when he was sent out on the skirmish line and pretty soon the “minies” were coming his way thick and fast. His comrade was a son of Erin, and an old “vet” who went before the bounties. The nerves of the big bounty man were getting pretty badly shattered, which was noticed by Pat, who sang out: “I say, there, me laddy buck! How large does your $1,000 look to ye’s now?”
“About the size of a silver quarter,” was the truthful response.
Another incident illustrates the practical manner with which the officers regarded the lives of their men. A veteran captain noticed some of the new accessions to his company needlessly exposing themselves, as he thought, and this is about what he said to them: “Get down behind the breastworks; you cost twelve hundred dollars a piece, and I’ll be d—d if I am going to have you throw your lives away; you’re too expensive!”
WINTER QUARTERS.
How many of our readers who are old enough to remember back so far can tell what kind of a winter we had 40 years ago? Probably not more than one in a hundred, unless it be some of the survivors of the army of the Potomac, or the army of the James, for the winter of 1864-5, was one of unusual severity, and there was much suffering among the troops in the trenches before Petersburg and Richmond.
Possibly it may interest some of the present generation to know how the soldiers, who were only provided with little shelter tents, managed to keep warm through the winter months when it was cold enough down there for ice to form on all of the streams.
Usually four men would go in together and build a little hut out of logs, sticks, pieces of boards or whatever they could pick up, chinking the cracks with Virginia mud, which, when hardened, no amount of rain or wind would loosen. The roof was usually made from their tents unless enough split timber could be got to lap one over the other.
From old barrel staves, small limbs and the same Virginia mud a chimney would be built at the end of the hut, connecting with a spacious fireplace.
On one side a double bunk made from saplings and covered with grass, leaves or hay, over which was spread a blanket with knapsacks for pillows, formed the beds.
It was a credit to Yankee ingenuity to see the devices the men had for conveniences. Candlesticks were made out of bottles or cans filled with sand. Cracker boxes were converted into handy cupboards or tables and little cellars were scooped out from under the bunks.
In the drummer boys’ quarters, drums were used for writing stands and card playing tables, while often a checkerboard would be sketched on the head of the drum and for men buttons would be used, and with plenty of rations we managed to be quite comfortable except when on picket.
LEE’S SOLDIERS COLD AND HUNGRY.
The question of supplies is a vital one to an army, and how to clothe and feed the confederate soldiers was a most serious problem to the southern leaders in the last year of the war.
The “Johnnies” with their threadbare clothing and scant rations suffered everything during the cold winter of ’64-5. Of tea and coffee they had none except in their hospitals. The only thingthey had a superfluity of was tobacco, and this they were ready to swap for coffee or anything to eat.
In front of our corps was a strip of woods where the blue and the gray used to meet on friendly terms, cut wood, swap coffee, tobacco, papers, stories, etc.
The reader of this who is of the generation since the war will hardly believe, I presume, that men of the two armies, who had fought each other so hard for more than three years, could meet between the lines without displaying any animosity toward each other, but such occurrences were not rare.
I recall a story about how a “Johnnie” helped a “Yank” carry his supply of wood into the Union lines. The boys were engaged in cooking and when the rebel sniffed the pleasant aroma of Uncle Sam’s old Government Java and other things that were not being furnished by the C. S. A. commissary department, he said: “I’m dog-goned if it don’t seem right smart comfortable here with you’uns and now that I’m here I guess I’ll stay!”
Considering the great privations that they suffered, and the hopelessness of the struggle it is a great wonder that the desertions from their side were not more frequent than they were.
A BOX FROM HOME.
If any of you ever have a father, son or brotherin far distant parts, don’t forget to send him an occasional box of good things from the old home. He may have an abundance, but even then he will appreciate the loving remembrances; but if he is undergoing the hardships and privations of a soldier’s life it will touch his heart more than any other act of your life.
Two of our mess were remembered with a bounteous box of good things the Christmas we were in the trenches before Petersburg. Talk about your banquets! Your Delmonico spreads; your nine-course dinner! They cannot compare with that Christmas feast of home made mince pies, fruit cake, plum pudding, old fashioned twisted doughnuts, raspberry jam and other good things from home.
And even those who were without mother or sister at home received through the Sanitary or Christian commissions many evidences that their devotion to their country’s cause was lovingly remembered by the patriotic women of the North.
Those were stirring days, and even the little children worked for the soldiers. Their little hands were busy rolling bandages, knitting and helping the various “Aid societies.”
Among my wartime keepsakes is the photograph of a little Pennsylvania girl, 10 years old. It came to me in a “Soldier’s Companion” containing needles, thread, buttons and other articles useful to a soldier. The child had made it and tucked adainty little note inside with her picture, requesting the recipient to write to her, which I did from the front of Petersburg and received a very beautiful letter in reply.
WHERE BOARD WAS HIGH.
I have in my possession a portion of an old copy of the “Macon Confederate,” which was obtained on the picket line one day, in which it is stated that, “board at our hotels is $30 per day, which includes three meals and a room.”
“If a man is single and wishes to reside here he can obtain board at a private house for $150 to $200 per month.”
“A family can rent a small house, with a small yard and garden for, from $1,500 to $2,500, according to location.”
“By close economy, subsistence and clothing for one year can be purchased at the market for a family, say of five, for $5,000, so the whole expense will be about $8,000, during the 12 months.”
“RETRIBUTION.”
Another item tells of the presentation of a beautiful sword to Gen. John McCausland of the confederate army.
“The blade is of the best material, and the scabbard beautifully mounted and richly embossed.
On the blade is inscribed: The citizens of Lynchburg to Gen. John McCausland, June 18, 1864:Embossed on the scabbard is a chalice, and above the word “Retribution,” symbolizing the destruction of Chambersburg by fire which was putting down the poisoned chalice to Yankee lips for the atrocities committed by them in the valley. Below appears the coat of arms of Virginia, and in another place is seen the coat of arms of the ancient Roman Empire.”