Wounding of Robert Fulton Moore
No! I forgot! There was one other casualty,—Robert Fulton Moore was mortally wounded,in the hat brim. And this gave rise to a most amusing scene. Robert Fulton was a driver to the limber of the third gun. He was a large, soft, man, and was, by no means, characterized by soldierly bearing, or warlike sentiments. On the contrary, he was something of a “butt,” and was always desperately unhappy under fire. He could dodge lower off the back of a horse at sound of a shell, than any man living. His miraculous feats, in this performance, afforded much diversion, whenever the guns went under fire, to us all, except his Sergeant, Moncure, who was very muchashamed of it. Still, in a general, feeble sort of way Robert Fulton had managed to keep up without any flagrant act of flinching from his post. On this occasion he had stood up better than usual. He stood holding his horses, and we noticed, with pleasure, that he was behaving very well under fire. But, it seems, his courage was only “hanging by the eyelids” so to speak.
Presently a piece of shell came whizzing very close to his head. It cut away part of his hat brim, and alas! this was too much! Poor Robert Fulton went all to pieces, instantly. Completely demoralized, panic-stricken and frantic with terror, he dropped his reins, and struck out wildly. It seems, he had seen Ellis, our lead driver, scooping out the hole that has been referred to, and as this was the only hole of any kind in reach, he instinctively struck for it. Ellis was lying down in it, flat on his back, with his arms stretched upward, holding his horses. Robert Fulton rounded the limber, and threw himself down with all his weight, right upon, and completely covering up, Ellis, and stuck his face in the dirt over Ellis’ shoulder, effectually pinning him down. Ellis was a fiery, ugly-tempered fellow, but as brave as Julius Cæsar, and of all men in the battery he had the greatest contempt for Moore, and especially for his present conduct. Ellis, upon finding Moore on top of him, was in a perfect blaze of fury. The breath was nearly knocked outof him by Moore’s weight, and he was mashed into the narrow hole, and embarrassed by the reins of his horses. He tried to throw Moore off, and couldn’t. Then he broke loose! He yelled, and swore, and bit, and pulled Moore’s hair, and socked his spurs into him, with both feet. He would have broken a blood vessel if McCarthy, assisted by Moncure, who had come to look after his driver, had not pulled Moore off, and taken him back to his post.
Our attention was drawn to this scene by the noise. The terrific combat going on in that hole, the sight of Ellis’ legs and arms, tossing wildly in the air, Moore not moving a muscle, but lying still, on top, the dust kicked up by the fray,—it was more than flesh and blood could stand, even under such a fire, and we could hardly work the guns for laughing. After the fight, when Moore had time to look into his injuries, he found that Ellis had nearly skinned him with his spurs. Some days after, we heard Robert Fulton exhibiting his torn hat brim to some passing acquaintance from his own neighborhood, as a trophy of his prowess in this fight. No doubt he preserves it as a sacred relic yet.
A Useful Discovery
In this fight, necessity, the mother of invention, put us up to a device that served us well here, and that we made fullest use of, in every fight we had afterwards. When we had kept up that rapid fire, with a scant gun detachment, in plowed ground, andunder a hot sun, for an hour, we were nearly exhausted. After Hardy was wounded, and left us, it was still worse. The hardest labor, and what took most time, was running up the guns from the recoil. We had stopped a moment to rest, and let the gun cool a little, and were discussing the difficulties, when the idea occurred to us. There was an old rail fence near by. Somebody said “let’s get some rails and chock the wheels to keep them from running back.” This struck us all as good, and in an instant we had piled up rails behind the wheels as high as the trail would allow. The effect was, that when the gun fired it simply jerked back against this rail pile, and rested in its place, and so we were saved all the time and labor of running up. We found that we could fire three or four times as rapidly, in this way. So that a chocked gun was equal to four in a fight. We found this simple device of immense service! We were told by the knowing ones that we ran the greatest possible danger. The ordnance people said that if a gun was not allowed to recoil it would certainly burst. But we didn’t mind! A device that saved so much labor, and enabled us to deliver such an extraordinarily effective fire on the battlefield, we were bound to try. We found it acted beautifully. We thenknewthe gunswouldn’tburst for we had tried it.
We used it afterward in every fight. The instant we were ordered into position, two or three cannoneerswould rush off and get rails, or a log or two, to chock the guns. And on two or three very desperate emergencies, during this campaign, this device enabled us to render very important service. It made a battery equal to a battalion, and a good many other batteries took it up, and used it. I believe it added greatly to the effectiveness of our artillery in the close-range fighting of this campaign.
Well! even with this relief, the labor of working our guns in this furious and prolonged fight was fearful! At last the welcome order, “Section cease firing” was given. We limbered up, and drew the guns a short distance to the side, out of the line of fire, and utterly exhausted, we cannoneers, threw ourselves right down on the plowed ground beside the guns, and slept like the dead.
In the meantime, while we had been fighting out in that field, events were taking place near us, of which we, absorbed in the work before us and deafened by the roar of our guns, had taken little notice at the time. As had been described, there was a body of woods some distance off to our right, and another, to our left. When we went into position we had not seen any of our troops, and did not know of the presence of any, near us. We thought we were without support, but as I intimated some time back, we were better off than we knew.
Barksdale’s Mississippi Creeper
It seems, that before we came on the ground, Barksdale’s Mississippi Brigade, which had beenmarching behind us, had filed off the road, and while we were up on the hill with the cavalry, had quietly, and silently passed into that body of woods to our right, unseen by the enemy. Along the front edge of that wood ran an old rail fence, covered all over with the luxuriant vine known as “Virginia Creeper.” Wide open fields extending in front. Soon, the ground behind that fence was covered with another sort of “creeper,” not as good a “runner” as that on the fence, nor as “green,” but just as tough of fibre, and as hard to “hold on” when it had once fixed itself,—the “MississippiCreeper.” Silently, as ghosts, the Brigade glided in behind that fence, and lay low, and waited. Right here, was where the Federals’ idea ofquietlyoccupying the Spottsylvania line was going to prove a snare. They had not the dimmest suspicion that we were ahead of them, and between them and that line. They came on, with guileless confidence, and walked right into trouble. Presently, a line of battle with columns of troops behind came marching across the fields upon the concealed Mississippians. Nearer and nearer they came, unsuspecting any danger, till they got nearly up to the fence. One man had actually thrown his leg over the rail to mount. Suddenly! as lightning out of a clear sky, a blinding sheet of flame flashed into their very faces. Then, after one volley, swiftly came the dreadful, venomous roll of musketry, the Mississippians loading and firing“at will,” every man as fast as he could. It was just as if “the angel of death spread his wings to the blast and breathed in the face of the foe as he passed.”
That withering fire tore the ranks of that Division to pieces. It didn’t take those fellows half a second to decide what to do. With yells of dismay, they charged back, out of that hornet’s nest, as if the devil was after them. In headlong rout, they rushed wildly back across the fields, and disappeared in the woods beyond.
They left four hundred and two of their number in front of that fence, and before the fugitives got out of range, their General of Division, General Robinson, was seriously wounded.
Some of our men went out among the Federal wounded to do what they could for their relief. An officer of a Mississippi Regiment came upon aFederalColonel who lay to all appearance mortally wounded, and gave him a drink of water, and did what else he could for his comfort. The Federal took out a fine gold watch, and said, “Here is a watch that I value very highly. You have been very kind to me, and I would like you to have it, as I am going to die. If I should get over this, and send to you for it you will let me have it, if not, I want you to keep it. But,” he said sadly, “my wound is mortal, I am obliged to die.” The Mississippian left him, and went back to his post, supposing him dead.
Many years after the war, the Mississippi officer was in Baltimore at Barnum’s Hotel. One day, he got into casual talk with a gentleman, at dinner, and, as he seemed to be a good fellow, they smoked their cigars together after dinner, and continued their conversation. By and by they got on the war. It came out, that both of them had served, and on opposite sides. Finally, in telling some particular incidents of his experience, the Federal soldier described this very fight, his being, as he thought mortally wounded, the kindness shown him by a Confederate officer, and his gift to him, of his watch. The Southern man said, “What is your name?” “Col. ————, of Robinson’s Division,” he replied. “Can you be the man? Have I struck you at last?” cried the ex-Confederate. “I’vegot your watch, and here it is, with your name engraved in it.”
Kershaw’s South Carolina “Rice Birds”
It was a singular incident, that these two should meet again so! The meeting was most cordial; the Federal was delighted to get his watch again, made doubly valuable by so strange a history.
While this bloody episode was enacting by the Mississippi Brigade, in the woods to our right, an almost exactly similar scene was going on, in the woods to our left. A portion of Kershaw’s South Carolina Brigade was unwittingly stumbled upon by “Griffin’s” Division in the pines. Another complete ambuscade! The South Carolinians suddenly sprangup before the Federals, let them have it, broke and routed them, and killed, and wounded eighty-seven of them. Our loss was one man. Things were so sudden, so close here, that one of Kershaw’s men killed a Federal soldier, and wounded another with an axe he happened to have in his hand.
These first efforts of “Warren’s” Corps that had gotten up near the Spottsylvania line, “just in time to be too late,” are thus described by Swinton, the admirable historian of the “Army of the Potomac.” (Swinton’s “Army of the Potomac,” p. 443):
“Finally,” he says, “the column (Warren’s) emerged from the woods into a clearing, two miles north of Spottsylvania Court House. Forming in line, Robinson’s Division advanced over the plain. Thus far, only Stuart’s dismounted troops had been encountered, and no other opposition was anticipated; but when half way across the field, and on the point of rising the crest, the troops were met by a savage musketry fire from infantry. Owing to their severe experience in the Wilderness, and the night march, without rest, the men were in an excited, and almost frightened, condition, and the tendency tostampedewas so great that General Warren had been compelled to go in front of the leading Brigade. When, therefore, they received a fire in front, from the redoubtable foe they had left in the Wilderness, the line wavered, and fell back in some confusion. General Robinson was at the same time severelywounded, which left the troops without their commander at a critical moment, and they were with some difficulty rallied and reformed in the woods back of the open plain. Griffin’s Division, which advanced on the right of Robinson, soon afterward received the same fire with a like result.”
It seems then, that it was Robinson’s Division that the little Mississippi Brigade sent to the right about, and it was Griffin’s Division, who scared themselves nearly into fits, by flushing Kershaw’s “rice-birds,” in the pines. It was a little hard on these “excited and almost frightened” men of Warren’s. The memory of the fearful shaking up they had got, day before yesterday, was so fresh in their minds that “General Warren himself, theCorps Commander, had to go in front of the leading Brigade” to quiet their nerves, even when they thought they were advancing upon a few dismounted troops. They thought,—a little comfort in this,—that, at least, all those terrible fellows of the Army of Northern Virginia were far behind them. And—to meet themhere, still, in front! It must be confessed it was hard! It was a very sad surprise.
It is said that General Grant’s strained relations with General Warren came of Warren’s conduct of this move, to seize the Spottsylvania line. He found great fault with his failure. But, perhaps he was a little hard onWarren. What could Warren do?His men were demoralized, “excited, almost frightened, tending to stampede, needing the Corps General to go in front,” and stopping to dine, instead of pushing on to seize the line. They had to meet men who were notparticularly excited, were notat all frightenedand had notthe least tendency to stampede; in fact, were in the best of spirits, perfectly confident of victory, and did not needa corporal to go in front of them, gaunt, hungry, cool fellows, who never counted noses—in a fight!
It was too much to expect Warren, with men like his, to go anywhere, or take anything, when men like these others were in the way. Grant was too hard on Warren! If it took aCorps Commander, going in front, to encourage them along to advance upona few troopers. I hardly think that Generals Grant and Meade, and President Lincoln, and Secretary Stanton,all together,—going in front, could have got them up,if they had known who was actually ahead.
However that may be, the object of our rapid all-night march, and of our venturesome stand, out here, in front of the Spottsylvania line, was accomplished! The stir up we gave them with that long artillery fire, and the savage and bloody repulses of two of their divisions made them more nervous than they were before. They spent some time considering who it could be in their front, and considering what to do. Later on, two more Divisions advanced, and our two Brigades and our guns retired.
Our work was done! While we had been out in front amusing the enemy, and keeping them easy, the Brigades of Longstreet’s Corps had been rapidly coming up, and taking position on the all-important line. We now had asure enough line of battleholding it. And night was falling; the enemy out in front had stopped, and gone to intrenching, instead of pushing on. We knew that during that night our people, Ewell and Hill, would be up. All were safe! We slept the sleep of the weary. So ended the 8th of May. It was a pretty full day for us!
I don’t remember anything at all about the early morning of the next day, the 9th. We were dreadfully tired, and I suppose we slept late, and then lounged about, with nothing to do, yet, in a listless, stupid state. Everything was quiet around us, and nothing to attractattention, or fix it in mind. About mid-day, I recollect noticing bodies of troops, a regiment, a brigade, or two, moving about, here and there, in various directions. We heard that Ewell’s and Hill’s Corps had come up, and these troops we saw, were taking their way leisurely, along, to the various position on the line of battle.
In the afternoon, about four or five o’clock, our guns, the “Napoleon” Section, moved off to take our destined position on the line. We followed a farm road, off toward the left, and presently came down into quite a decided hollow, through which ran a littlestream of water. Here we halted! The ground before us rose into a low short hill. Along the ridge of that hill ran the proposed line of battle, and there was the position for which we were making. There was quite a lively picket fire going on, in different directions, and right over the hill, behind which we were, an occasional shell could be heard screeching about, here and there. Several passed over us, high above our heads, and away to the rear. Federal Artillery lazily feeling about to provoke a reply, and find out where somebody was. They felt lonesome, perhaps! It was a calm, sweet sunlit May evening.
Feeling Pulses
In order not to expose us longer than necessary to this fire of the pickets, Lieutenant Anderson, commanding this “Section,” went up on the hill, to selectexactposition for the guns, so that they might be promptly placed, when we went up. While he was up there reconnoitering, we lay down on the ground, and waited, and talked. The bullets dropped over, near, and among us, now and then, and we knew, that the moment we went up a few steps, on the hill, we would be a mark for sharp-shooters, a particularly unpleasant situation for artillery. But we tried to forget all this, and be as happy andseemas careless as we could. And we would have gotten along very well if let alone. But, there was a dreadful, dirty, snuffy, spectacled old Irishman, named Robert Close, a driver, who took this interval to amuse himself. He would ask us “how we felt,” and he came around to most of us, youngfellows, and asked us to let him feel our pulse, and see if we were at all excited, or scared; and he would put his hand on our hearts, to see if they were beating regularly enough. And he would call out the result of his investigation in each case,—the other fellows all sitting around, and eagerly waiting his report. Nobody can tell what a dreadful trial this simple thing was! When just going under fire—and indeedalreadyunder some fire—to have your heart and your pulse felt, and reported on to a waiting crowd of comrades! But, all of us youngsters had to undergo it! That cruel, old scoundrel went round to every one of the youngsters. It was an unspeakable humiliation for acannoneerto be thus fingered bya driver, but what could we do? Not a thing!
We wouldhave likedto knock the old rascal’s head off, but, not one of us would have dared to object to that pulse feeling, and we in turn meekly held out our wrists, andtriedto look happy and amused—and made a dismal failure of it. Old Close was as brave, himself, as a lion.Hehad as soon go in a fight as not; a little sooner! When balls swarmed around, he didn’t care a bit. He was in a position to do this thing. But it was suffering to us. Each man waited, with anxious heart, for his turn to come, for old Close to “pass upon his condition.” Those whom he approved, were pleased to death, and those whom he didn’t, hated him from that time.
I honestly believe that old Irishman gave me the worst scare I had in that campaign, and I am sure that a compliment, on the field, from General Longstreet himself, would not have pleased me more, than that snuffy old fellow’s verdict, after feeling my pulse that I “would do all right.” It was quite a curious scene altogether!
Where the Fight Was Hottest
In a few minutes Lieutenant Anderson came down and ordered us forward. He told us “the sharp-shooters were making it a little warm” up there. When the guns got to the top of the rise, they must go at a trot to their positions, the sooner to get the horses from under fire. Twenty or thirty steps brought us to the top of the sharp little ascent. Here we found a few of our sharp-shooters exchanging compliments with the enemy, and the balls were knocking up the dirt, and whistling around. I was interested in watching one of our fellows. He was squatting down, holding his rifle ready. A Federal sharp-shooter, whom we could not see, was cracking at him. Three times a ball struck right by him, and came whizzing by us. He kept still, and patiently bided his time. Suddenly, he threw up his rifle and fired, and then exclaimed “Well! I gotyouanyhow.” The balls stopped coming. This man said that the concealed Federal sharp-shooter had been shooting at him for some time and he had been waiting for him. At last, catching sight of a head rising from behind a bush, he got his chance, as we saw, and dropped his man.Our guns were placed in their position, selected for them on the line, and the horses sent back to the rear.
Our position here was right on the infantry line of battle. That is, on that line the infantry afterwards took. For when we got on the spot, there was no infantry there,—nothing except the sharp-shooters, already referred to. The line was traced by a continuous pile of dirt thrown up, I don’t know by whom, before we got on the ground. I suppose the engineers had it done as a guide to the troops, in taking position.
The position our guns now took, grew to be very familiar ground to us, and remains very memorable. On this spot we stayed, and fought our part in the Spottsylvania battles. On this spot we saw many bloody sights, and witnessed many heroic scenes, and had many thrilling experiences. The incidents of those days spent there, in nearly all their details, are indelibly impressed on my memory, and are as fresh as if they happened yesterday.
We stood on a low ridge which rose gradually to the right. To the left, after running level for fifty yards, the ground fell rapidly away, until it sank down into the valley of a little brook, one hundred and fifty yards from us. Off to the left, in front, stretched a large body of woods. To the right, in front, stood a body of thick pines coming up to within two or three hundred yards of us, its edge running along to the right about that distance parallel with our line.Directly in front of us, the ground,—cleared fields about three or four hundred yards wide,—sloped gently away down to a stream, and beyond, sloped gently upward to the top of the hill, on which stood a farmhouse, and buildings. That hill was considerably higher than our position, and commanded it. That hill-top was about one-half to three-quarters of a mile from us.
All along our front, in the bottom, ran a little stream; the ground, on either side, in our immediate front, was swampy, and thickly covered with low swamp growth. That soft ground saved us a good many hard knocks we had plenty as it was! Behind us, our cleared ground ran back, very gently sloping, almost level, some thirty or forty yards, and then, the hill fell sharply down, some twenty yards to the little brook, which ran along the hollow! This sharp bank, facing away from the enemy, and this stream, protected by it, and so near us, proved a great comfort to us. It also was of great service as a covered way, by which troops and supplies (ammunition, while there, it did not seem to be considered necessary for us to have any other supplies) were able to approach the line. Once it proved of vital use as a cover behind which a broken Brigade was able to rally, and save the line.
Exactly back of us, forty yards off, and covering that steep bank at this one point, stood a body of large, tall trees,—pines and others,—occupying halfan acre. And in that wood, under the bank, some of the fellows dug holes, and in them they built fires which, by one or another, were kept up all the time. At these fires,—quite effectually protected from shot and shell and bullets, though within forty yards of the line of battle, a fellow could cook anything he happened, by accident, to have, or slip back from the works, now and then, when not engaged at the guns, warm himself and stand up straight, and stretch his legs and back, without theimminentrisk of being bored by a sharp-shooter; which makes a stretch unsatisfactory.
Just at the point where we were posted, the line left the ridge, and dipping a little, on the front face of the slope, ran along about parallel with the ridge. My gun, “Number Four,” stood exactly at the point where the line declined in front of the ridge, and so, was exactly in the infantry line. The “3d gun” was some ten yards to our left, on the ridge seven or eight yards back of the line, and could fire over it to the front. It had its own separate work.
It was about sunset when we got to our position. We unlimbered our guns, and ran them up close to the bank of dirt, about two feet high, which we found there, thinking that in case of a row, that would be some little protection. However, things seemed quiet. We couldn’t see any enemy from where we stood, didn’t know whether any force was near us. Andafter we placed our guns, we strolled around, and looked about us, and were disposing ourselves for a quiet night, and a good sleep, which we needed badly.
Just then somebody, I think it was Lieutenant Anderson, who had walked to the left, some distance, where he could see around the point of pine woods to our right, up on the hill, came back with some news very interesting to us, if not to our advantage. He said that, just beyond these woods up on the hill, not over five or six hundred yards from us, there was a lot of Federal artillery. He saw them plainly. They were in position. He counted twelve guns, and was sure there were others, farther around, which he could not see for the woods. At least six of those, in sight, he was certain were twenty-pounder Parrotts. These guns, he said, commanded our position, and while the enemy had not yet seen us, for the treetops between, they soon would; andanyhow, the moment we fired a shot, and disclosed our position, we would catch it. There were enough heavy guns bearing down on us to sweep us off the face of the earth, unless we were protected. If daylight found us unfortified we couldn’t stay there, so we had better go to throwing dirt.
Against Heavy Odds at “Fort Dodge”
Here was nice news! Our two Napoleons, right under the muzzles of twelve or more rifled cannon, and six twenty-pounder Parrotts, and with no works! This was pleasant advice to tired and sleepy men, who wanted to go to bed. But such were the facts, and as we never had left a position under fire, and hadcome to stay, and werecertainly goingto stay, wewentto throwing dirt.
We went to work, to raise and thicken the little bank already there, in front of our gun, and to build a short “traverse” to the right, for protection from enfilade fire. We worked all night, six of us, and by morning we had a slight and rough artillery work, with an embrasure for the gun; the whole thing about four feet high, and two and one-half feet thick, at the top. It was the best that could be done by six, tired, and hungry fellows, all young boys, working with two picks and three shovels through a short night. Such as it was, we fought behind it, all through the Spottsylvania battles, and it stood some heavy battering. This gem of engineering skill,—by reason of the pretty constant courtesies we felt it polite to pay to the unceasing attentions of our friends, the enemy, for the next six days, in the shape of shells and bullets, we called “FortDodge.”
Just here, I take occasion to correct a very wrong impression about the field works, the “Army of Northern Virginia” fought behind, in this campaign. All the Federal writers who have written about these battles, speak of our works as “formidable earthworks,” “powerful fortifications,” “impregnable lines;” such works asno troopscould be expectedto take, and any troops could be expectedto hold.
Now about the parts of the line distant from us, I couldn’t speak so certainly, though I am sure theywere all very much the same, but about the works all alongour partof the line I can speak with exactness and certainty. I saw them, I helped, with my own hands, to make them. I fought behind them. I was often on top of them, and both sides of them. I know all about them. I got a good deal of the mud off them on me,—(not for purposes of personal fortification, however).
Our “works” were, a single line of earth, about four feet high, and three to five feet thick. It had no ditch or obstructions in front. It was nothing more than a little heavier line of “rifle pits.” There was no physical difficulty in men walking right over that bank! I did it often myself, saw many others do it, and twice, saw a line of Federal troops walk over it, and then saw them walkbackover it, with the greatest ease, at the rate of forty miles an hour;i. e., except those whom we had persuaded to stay with us, and those whom the angels were carrying to Abraham’s bosom, at a still swifter rate. Works they could go over like that couldn’t have been much obstacle! They couldn’t have made better time on a dead level.
“Sticky” Mud and Yet More “Sticky” Men
Such were our worksactually! And still, they seemed to “loom largely” to the people in front. I wonder what could have given them such an exaggerated idea of the strength of those modest little works? I wonder if it could have been themenbehind them? There were not a great many of these men. It was a very thin gray line along there, back of athin, red line of clay. But these lines stuck together very hard, and were very hard indeed to separate. The red clay was “sticky” and the men were just as “sticky.” And, as the two lines stuck together so closely, it made the whole very strong indeed. Certainly, it seems they gave to those who tried to force them apart, an impression of great strength!
Yes, it must have been themen. A story in point, comes to my aid here. A handsome, well-dressed lady sweeps with a great air, past two street boys. They are much struck. “My eye, Jim, but ain’t that a stunning dress?” Says Jim, with a superior air, “Oh get out, Bill, the dress ain’t no great shakes; it’s thewomanin it that makes it so ‘killing.’” That was the way with our Spottsylvania earthworks. The works “wa’n’t no great shakes.” It was themenin ’em, that made them so “killing.”
The men behind those works, such as they were, had perfect confidence in their own ability to hold them. And this happy combination of “faith” and “works” proved as strong against the world and the flesh, here, as it does against the devil. It was perfectly effectual! It withstood all assaults!
This day, May 10th, to whose dawn we have now come, broke dark, and lowering, very typical of the heavy cloud of war that was impending, and soon burst upon us, in a fierce tempest, that was going to thunder, and howl, and beat upon us, all day, and fordays to come. This day was to be an eventful, and memorable day to us,—crowded full of incident.
Some time during the night, while we were working like beavers on “Fort Dodge,” infantry had come in, on the line. Soon as they got there they set in to do what we were doing, to raise, and thicken the line against the coming of day, and the equally certain coming of battle. When the day came they also, were ready.
Gregg’s Texans to the Front
We had been too busy to think about them, at the time, but when we had gotten done,—and had a little time to look about us, and day had broken, and the fighting time, as we knew, was drawing near,—we took an interest in that infantry. Artillerymen are always concerned in their “supports,” in a fight, and we wanted to know who these fellows were, on whom we had to depend, as battle comrades, in the approaching struggle. Our minds were quickly made perfectly easy on that score. We found we had alongside of us “Gregg’s” Texas Brigade,—the gallant, dashing, stubborn fellows who had, as they jocularly said, “put General Lee under arrest and sent him to the rear,” and then, had so brilliantly, and effectually, stopped Hancock’s assault on Hill’s right, at the Wilderness. Better fellows to have at your back, in a fight, couldn’t be found! We knewthat partof the line was safe! We mingled together, and chatted, and got acquainted, and swapped yarns about our several adventures. We told them how particularly glad we were to havethemthere, and our personal relations soon grew as cordial as possible.
Our service together on this spot, and our esteem of one another’s conduct in battle, made the Texans and the “Howitzers” ardent mutual admirers, and fast friends, to the end. Never afterwards did we pass each other, during the campaign, without hearty cheers, each, for the other, and friendly greetings and complimentary references to the “Spottsylvania lines.” Gregg’s Texans! Noble fellows! Better soldiers never trod a battlefield. I saw them fight; I saw their mettle tried, as by fire. They live in my memory as “the bravest of the brave.” I hope Texas is growing more like them!
Breakfastless, But “Ready for Customers”
Having got our Fort in shape, and refreshed ourselves a little with a wash, at the stream back of us, and thinking how nice some breakfast would be, if we had it, (which wedidn’t, not a crumb!) we got ready for the business of the day. We sloped the ground downward to the works, so that the guns would run easily; placed the gun, and saw that it could poke its muzzle well over the dirt, and look around comfortably in every direction; got some rails, and chocked her tight, so that she couldn’t run back. Then we got a lot of cartridges, and piled them down safely behind the works, and in front of the guns, so that we could do very rapid firing. Lieutenant Anderson called attention to the fact of these pine woods, in front,which came up to within two or three hundred yards, and that the enemy could get up very near us, under cover, before they started to charge, and we would have to put in our work while they were charging across the narrow open ground. “So,” he said, “Have plenty of ‘canister’ by your guns. Break loose some canisters from the powder, so you can double-shot; you’ll need it.” We cannoneers had already thought of this; the edge of that wood was in canister range, and we had put little else but this short range missile in our pile; only a few case-shots to make it lively for them in the woods before they came out, and to follow them into the woods, when they were broken, and keep them going. We were now all ready and waited for customers. They soon came!
It was still early in the morning, about five or six o’clock, and, as yet, all was quiet in our front; we hadn’t even seen a Federal soldier. Suddenly! out of the woods to our right, just about five hundred yards in front, appeared the heads of three heavy blue columns, about fifty yards apart, marching across the open field toward our left. Here was impudence! Infantry trying to cross our front!That’sthe way it seemed to strike our fellows. I don’t know whether they knew our guns were there, but we took it for an insult, and it was with a great deal of personal feeling, we instantly jumped to our guns and loaded with case-shot. Lieutenant Anderson said, “Wait till they get half way across the field. You’ll have more chanceat them before they can get back into those woods.” We waited, and soon they were stretched out to the middle of the field. It was a beautiful mark! Three, heavy well closed up columns, fifty yards apart, on ground gently sloped upward from us, lovely for ricochet shots,—with their flanks to us, and in easy range. Dan McCarthy went up to Ned Stine, our acting gunner, who was very deaf, and yelled in his ear, loud enough for the Federals to hear, “Ned, aim at the nearest column, the ricochet pieces of shell will strike the columns beyond.” “All right,” he bawled back, with his head on one side, “sighting” the gun. “I’ve got sight on that column, now. Ain’t it time to shoot?” This instant Anderson sung out, “Section commence firing! and get in as many shots as you can before they get away.” “Yes,” shouted Dan, “Fire!” “Eh?” said Ned, putting his hand up to his ear, “What did you say?” “I said Fire! you deaf old fool—Fire!” the last, in a tone calculated for a mile and a half. This fetched him. Ned threw up his hands (the gunner’s signal to fire) and we let drive. All Ned wanted was a start, he was only slow in hearing. He jumped in now, and we kept that gun blazing almost continuously. It was the first time Stine had acted gunner, and he did splendidly here, and until Dibbrell, our gunner, got back.
Our first shot struck right in the nearest column, and burst, and we instantly saw a line opened throughall three columns, and a great deal of confusion. The shot from the “Third Piece” struck at another point, and burst, just right for effect. I am sure not a single shot missed in that crowd, and we drove them in just as fast as we could. The columns were pretty badly broken, and in two minutes, they were rapidly crossing back into that woods, out of which they had come, and disappeared. The Texans were greatly pleased with this performance. Having nothing to do, as the enemy was out of effective rifle range, they stood around, and watched us work the guns, and noticed, with keen interest, the effect of our shots upon the blue columns, and they made the welkin ring, when the Federals turned to retire.
Parrott’s Reply to Napoleon’s Twenty to Two
In a minute or two we received notice of our work from another quarter. That artillery, up there on the hill, beyond the woods, woke up. They got mad at our treatment of their infantry friends, furiously mad. “Boom” went a loud report, over the way, and, the same instant, a savage shriek right over our heads, of a twenty pounder Parrott shell. Another followed, another, and another. They began to rain over. We could detect the sound of different shells, three inch rifle, ten pounder Parrott, and twenty pounder Parrott.
Some fifteen or twenty guns joined in, and they hammered away most savagely. Most fortunately the treetops of that wood, out in our front, came upjust high enough to conceal us from the enemy. They could see our smoke, and knew justaboutour position, but they could notexactly see us, and correct their aim by the smoke of their shells. So they could not get theexactrange. And that makes a great difference, in artillery firing, as it does in a great many other things. To knowjust aboutand to knowexactly, are two very different things in effect, and in satisfaction to the worker. If those people could haveseenour two guns, I suppose they could have smashed them both, and killed, or wounded every man of us, and their columns could have moved across our front, in peace, and accomplished this movement they were trying to get across them for, and about which they seemed very anxious. As it was, neither man, nor gun, of ours, was touched, though it was hot as pepper all around there; and our guns stuck there a thorn in their sides, and broke up that movement altogether.
It seems that those columns were a part of Warren’s Corps, and were trying to push into an interval between our Corps, and A. P. Hill’s Corps, which, under command of General Jubal Early (Hill being very sick) began just on our left, our position being on the left of Longstreet’s line, near its junction with Hill’s. This infantry was pushing across our front to get into that gap, and make it hot for “Old Jubal” over there in the woods. But, in order to get to that gap, they were forced to pass close to us, and across that open field.
Now, at once, to insult us, and to hurt our friends, was a move that we didn’t at all approve, and were not going to stand. And as soon as we discovered the meaning of this move, we were very earnest to stop it.
Well! we had stopped it once, and driven back the Federal columns of attack. It remained to see what they were going to do about it. The Federal artillery thundered at us through the trees. We quietly sat and waited to see.
In about half an hour, (I suppose they thought we were pulverized by the fire their guns had been pouring upon us,) we saw those three infantry columns pouring out of the woods again, at a quick step. We manned the guns, and waited as before, till they reached the middle of the field. Then we began to plow up the columns with shrapnel. This time some of our infantry tried and found it in range for their muskets and they adjusted their rifle sights and took careful aim, with a rest on the top of the works. Soon, the columns faltered, then stopped, then broke, and made good time back to their woods. We could see their officers trying to rally them, but they refused to hear “the voice of the charmer.” Soon they disappeared!
Then the artillery began to pour in their shells on us more furiously than ever! The air around us was kept in a blaze, and a roar of bursting shells, andthe ground, all about, was furrowed and torn. We quietly sat behind our works, and interchanged our individual observations on what had just taken place, and waited for further developments.
The two rifled pieces of our Battery, and the other rifled guns of our Battalion, “Cabells,” had been laced in position, on a hill half a mile back of, and higher, than the low hill on which we were. The plan was for these long range guns to fire over our heads, at the enemy. We suspected that when that Federal infantry next tried to pass us, they would try to make a rush. So Lieutenant Anderson sent back to the other guns, calling attention to this probability, and suggesting that they should be on the lookout, and reinforce our fire, and try, also, to divert the Federal artillery, a little. We thought that with eight or ten rifled guns, added to the fire of ours, and what the infantry could do, we could sicken that Federal infantry of the effort to get by.
Presently we noticed the fire of the Federal guns increase in violence to a marked degree. At this savage outburst, Lieutenant Anderson said, “Boys, get to your guns, that infantry will try to get across under cover of this.” We sprang to the guns, and sure enough, in a minute, those blue columns burst out of the woods at a double quick. “Open on them at once men. We can’t let them get a start this time,” shouted Anderson. Both guns instantly began to drive at the head of their columns.
The sound of our guns started our rifle guns on the hill behind. They opened furiously, and we could hear their shells screeching over our heads, on into this enemy’s columns. We did our best, and the Texans did what musket fire they could. The enemy still advanced at a run, but this storm was too much for them. Their columns were torn to pieces, were thrown into hopeless confusion. They had, by this time, gotten half way or more across the field, and they made a gallant effort to keep on, but torn and storm-beaten as they were, they could not stand. The crowd broke and parted. A few ran on across to the farther woods, and were captured by Hill’s men. The rest, routed and scattered, ran madly back to the cover they had left. This gave them enough! They gave up the attempt, and tried it no more.
We thought that Hill’s Corps “owed us one” for this job. We certainly saved them a lot of trouble by thus protecting their flank. They had to stand a heavy assault by Hancock’s Corps, and had very hot work as it was. If these strong columns, that we were taking care of, had gotten into that gap, and taken them at disadvantage, they would have had a hard time, to say the least. Our work left them to deal with Hancock’s Corps alone, which they did to their credit, and with entire success, as will appear.
That little scheme of our long-range guns on the hill behind, firing over our heads at the enemy acted very well, for a while. It came to have its verydecided inconvenience tous, as well as to the enemy. When the Federal infantry had retired, those guns turned their fire on the Federal artillery which was hammering us. They meant to divert their attention, and do us a good turn. They had better have left us to “the ills we had.” Their line of fire, at that artillery, was exactly over our position. Very soon their shells got tired travelling over, and began to stopwith us. Our Confederate shells were often very badly made, the weight in the conical shells not well balanced. And so, very often, instead of going quietly, point foremost, like decent shells, where they wereaimed, they would get totumbling, that is, going end over end, or “swappin’ ends” as the Tar Heels used to describe it, andthen, there was no tellingwherethey would go, except that they wouldcertainly go wrong. And, they went very wrong, indeed, on this occasion, in our opinion.
The sound of a tumbling Parrott shell in full flight, is the most horrible noise that ever was heard!—a wild, venomous, fiendish scream, that makes every fellow, in half a mile of it, feel that it is looking forhim particularly, andcertainthat it’sgoing to get him. I believe it would have made Julius Cæsar, himself, “go for a tree,” or want to, anyhow!
Well! these blood-curdlers came crashing into us, from the rear, knocking up clouds of dirt, digging great holes, bursting, and raining fragments around us in the field. We were not firing, and had leisureto realize the fix we were in. With the enemy hotly shelling us from the front, and our friends from the rear, obliged to stay by our guns, expecting an infantry assault every minute, we certainly were in a pretty tight fix, “’Tween the devil and the deep sea.”
It was the only time I ever saw Lieutenant Anderson excited under fire, but he was excitednow, and mad too. He said to one of the fellows, “Go back under the hill, get on a horse, ride as hard as you can, and tell those men on the hill, what confounded work they are doing, and if they fire any more shells, here, I will open on them immediately.” In a few minutes it was stopped, with many regrets on the part of our friends.