The Narrow Escape of an Entire Company
In the midst of all this, an incident took place that created a great deal of amusement. Along the line, just back of and somewhat protected by the works, the Texans had pitched several of the little “shelter tents” we used to capture from the enemy, and found such a convenience. One of these stood apart. It had a piece of cloth, buttoned on the back, and closing that end up to about eighteen inches from the top, leaving thus, a triangular hole just under the ridge pole. In this little tent sat four men, a captain and three privates, all that were left of a Company in this Texan Brigade. These fellows were playing “Seven-up” and, despite the confusion around, were having a good time. Suddenly, one of the shells from the hillbehind, struck, tumbled over once or twice, and stopped, right in the mouth of that tent, the fuse still burning. The game stopped! The players were up, instantly. The next moment, one fellow came diving headforemost out of that triangular hole at the back, followed fast by the other three—the captain last. It only took “one time and one motion” to get out of that. Soon as they could pick themselves up, they, all four, jumped behind a tree that stood there; and then, the fuse went out, and the shell didn’t burst. Everybody had seen the shell fall, and were horror stricken at the apparently certain fate of those four men. Now, the absurdity of the scene struck us all, and there were shouts of laughter at their expense. Despite their sudden, hasty retreat through that narrow hole everyone of the scamps had held on to his “hand,” and they promptly kicked the shell aside, crawled into the tent again, and continued their little game; interrupted, however, by jokes from all sides. It was very funny! The smoking shell, in front, and those fellows shooting through that hole at the back, and alighting all in a heap, and then the scramble for that tree. As the shell went out, it was a roaring farce. If it hadn’t, it would have been a tragedy. The Captain said that these three men were his whole company, and when that lighted shell struck, he thought that his company was “gone up” for good and all.
Such was about the size to which some of the companies of this Texan Brigade was reduced.
Well! after we got rid of those shells from the rear we didn’t so much mind the artillery fire from the front, which kept up more or less through the morning.
What with the wet, cheerless weather, and the mental discomfort of staying in a place where they were “shooting cannons” at us, and other kind of shooting might soon be expected, two of our men got sick, and went back to the position of our guns on the hill in the rear. The Captain appealed to them to go back, but their health was bad, and they didn’t think the place where we were,a health resort. So Captain McCarthy called for volunteers to take their places, and instantly John W. Page, and George B. Harrison, of the First Detachment, offered, and came over to us.
Successive Attacks by Federal Infantry
Up to this time we had seen no infantry since their columns had tried to cross our front. No attack had been made on us and all seemed quiet out in front, except that artillery. But, out of our sight, over behind the woods, the enemy was conspiring to break up our quiet in the most decided manner. About ten o’clock we suddenly caught sight of a confused appearance down through the woods on our right front. It quickly defined itself as a line of battle, rapidly advancing. Our pickets fired upon it, then ran back over the works into our line. The Texans sprang into rank, we jumped to our guns, and sent a case-shottearing down through the woods. Next instant, the Federal line dashed, cheering, out of the edge of the woods, and came charging at us. As they dashed out, they were met by a furious storm of bullets, and cannister, which at two hundred yards tore their ranks. They got about a hundred yards under that fire, then began to falter, then stopped, tried to stand for a moment, then with their battle line shot all to pieces, they turned and broke for the woods in headlong rout. We did our best to help them along, shooting at them with case-shot as long as we could catch any glimpse of them, moving back through the trees. Then that Federal artillery got savage again. We lay low and waited for some more infantry.
Very soon, here they came again! another line charging on, only to meet the same fate; shattered lines, hapless disorder, bloody repulse, and rapid retreat. Several times they tried to reach our lines, and every time failed, then gave it up for the time.
These various assaults took up the time, I should say from ten-thirty to twelve o’clock. When they were over, the field, and wood in front of us displayed a most dreadful scene. The field was thickly strewn with the dead, and wounded. And just along the edge of the wood, where the advancing lines generally first met our full fire, in the several assaults, the dead lay so thick and in such regular order, that it looked to us like a line of battle, lying down. And the poor wounded fellows lying thickly about! It was frightfulto see and to hear them. It was a bloody business, their oft-repeated effort to take our line. Their loss was very severe, ours was almost nothing. The Texan Brigade in all their assaults had several wounded, none killed; at our guns not a man was hurt.
One thing that struck me in that fighting was the utter coolness of the Texan infantry. I watched the soldier next to my gun, and can never forget his bearing. The whizzing bullets, the heavy storming columns pouring upon us, the yells and cries of the combatants were enough to excite anybody, but this fellow was just as easy and deliberate as if he had been shooting at a mark. He would drop the butt of his musket on the ground and ram down a cartridge, raise the piece to his hip, put on a cap, cock the hammer, and then, slowly draw the gun up to his eye, and shoot. I really don’t think that Texan fired a shot that day until the sight on his gun covered a Federal soldier, and I think it likely he hit a man every time he shot. It was this sort of shooting that made the carnage in front so terrible.
And what a confident lot they were! After one or two of these lines had been repulsed, as the enemy were advancing again, you could hear the men in the line calling one to another, “Say, boys, don’t shoot so quick this time! Let them get up closer. Too many of them get away, when you start so soon.” Truly they were the unterrified! Our line was so thin; thosestorming lines of blue as they came storming on seemedheavyenough to roll over us like a tidal wave. Yet it never seemed to occur to these fellows that they might be run over. Their only thought was to “let them get up closer next time.” Their only concern was that “too many of them were getting away.” Good men, they were, to hold a line!
At last, this furious attempt, by Warren and Hancock, to force our position ceased. And as we saw, out in front, the heavy losses of the enemy, and still had every one of our men ready for duty, we thought “wecould stand this sort of thing, iftheycould, and just as long as they chose to keep on.” They lost in dead and wounded about twelve hundred men to about four of ours. Certainly, we could stand it! So we piled some more canister in front of our guns, and watched to see what they would do next.
The long hours crept on until three o’clock,—when the warming up of the Federal artillery fire warned us of another attack. Soon came another stubborn assault by Warren’s Corps. Same result. Line after line pushed out from the woods, only to be hurled back, bleeding and torn, leaving on the field large additions to the sad load of dead, and wounded, with which it was already encumbered. They effected nothing! Very little loss to us, heavy loss to them. We were using double shot of canister nearly every time, on masses of men at short range; the infantry fire was rapid and deadly. Our fire soon swept the frontclear of the enemy. We piled up more canister, and waited again.
There was now an interval of comparative quiet. We could walk around, and talk, and look about us, a little. Now and then a bullet struck the ground close to us, and presently one of the infantry was struck slightly. It was plain that a concealed sharp-shooter had our range, and we began to watch for him. Soon one of us caught a glimpse of him; he was up a tree some distance out in front, and he would cautiously edge around the trunk and fire, dodging back behind the trunk to load again. One of the Texans went over the works, and stole from stump to stump off toward the left, and for some time was out of our sight. Presently, we saw that sharp-shooter slyly stealing around the tree, and raise his rifle. The next instant, we saw a puff of smoke from a bush, off to the left, and that sharp-shooter came plunging down, headforemost out of the tree, dead as Hector. Our man had crept round so that when the Federal slid around the tree, he exposed his body, and the Texan shot him.
Robert Stiles, the Adjutant of the Battalion, who had been, until lately, a member of our Battery, and was very devoted to it, and his comrades in it, had come to the lines to see how we were getting on, and gave us news of other parts of the line. He, Beau Barnes, and others of us were standing by our guns,talking, when a twenty pounder Parrott shell came grazing just over our guns, passed on, and about forty yards behind us struck a pine tree, about two and a half to three feet in diameter. The shell had turned. It struck that big tree sideways, and cut it entirely off, and threw it from the stump. It fell in an upright position, struck the ground, stood, for an instant, and then, came crashing down. It was a very creepy suggestion of what that shell might have done to one of us. A few moments after another struck the ground right by us and ricochetted. After it passed us, as was frequently the case, we caught sight of it, and followed its upward flight until it seemed to be going straight up to the sky. Stiles said “There it goes as though flung by the hand of a giant.” Beau Barnes, who wasnotpoetical, exclaimed, “Giant be darned; there ain’t any giant can fling ’em like that.” He was right!
Strange how the most trivial incidents keep their place in the memory, along with the great events, amidst which they occurred! I remember the fall of that tree, and the remark about that shell, and a small piece of pork which an Arkansas soldier gave me, and which, in jumping to the guns, I dropped into a mudhole, and never found again, though I fished for it diligently in the muddy water, and apig, which was calmly rooting around near our guns, under fire, and which we watched, hoping he would be hit, so that we could get his meat, before the infantry did, to satisfyour wolfish hunger, just as distinctly as the several fierce battles which were fought that day.
About five o’clock the Federal guns on the hill in our front broke out again into a furious fire. It was a warning! We knew it meant that the infantry were about to charge again. We got to our guns, and the Texans stood to their arms. It seems that the balance of Hancock’s Corps had got up, and now, with Warren’s, and part of Sedgwick’s Corps, formed in our front, Grant was going to make the supreme effort of the day, to break our line.
What we sawwas that far down in the woods, heavy columns of men were moving; the woods seemed to be full of them. The pickets, and our guns opened on them at once. The next moment they appeared, three heavy lines one close behind the other. As they reached the edge of the woods, our lines were blazing with fire. But on they came! The first line was cut to pieces, only to have its place taken by the next, and then, the next. Closer and closer to our guns they pressed their bloody way, until they were within fifty yards of us. Heavens! how those men did strive, and strain to make their way against that tempest of bullets and canister! It was too much for man to do! They stopped and stayed there, and fired and shouted, under our withering fire. The carnage was fearful. Their men were being butchered! Their lines had all fallen into utter confusion. They couldnot come on! Despair suddenly seized them! The next moment a panic stricken cloud of fugitives was fast vanishing from our view, and the ground over which they had charged was blue with corpses, and red with blood.
Eggleston’s Heroic Death
Just here, we of the “Howitzer” suffered our first, and only, loss in this day’s fighting. Cary Eggleston, “No. 1” at third gun, had his arm shattered, and almost cut away from his body, by a fragment of shell. He quietly handed his rammer to John Ayres, who that instant came up to the gun, and said, “Here Johnny, you take it and go ahead!” Then, gripping his arm with his other hand, partly to stop the fast flowing blood, he turned to his comrades, and said in his jocular way, “Boys, I can never handle a sponge-staff any more. I reckon I’ll have to go to teaching school.” Then he stood a while, looking at the men working the gun. They urged him to go to the rear; he would not for a while. When he consented to go, they wanted to send a man with him, but he refused, and walked off by himself. As he passed back an infantry officer, seeing what an awful wound he had, and the streaming blood, insisted that one of the men should go and help him to the hospital. “No,” he said; “I’m all right, and you haven’t got any men to spare from here.” So, holding his own arm, and compressing the artery with his thumb, he got to the hospital.
His arm was amputated, and a few days after, as the battery passed through Spottsylvania Court House, we went by the Court House building, used as a hospital, where he lay on the floor, and bade him “good-bye.” He was just as cheerful, and bright, as ever, and full of eager interest in all that was going on. Said “Since he had time to think about it, he believed hecouldhandle a sponge-staffwith one hand; was going to practice it soon as he could get up, and would be back at his postbefore long.” The next day, the brave young fellow died. The “Howitzers” will always remember him tenderly. No braver, cooler warrior ever lived! Always bright, full of fun in camp, and on the march, he was at the gun in action, the best “No. 1” I ever saw. One of the few men I ever knew who really seemed to enjoy a fight. His bearing, when he was wounded, was simplyheroic. No wounded knight ever passed off his last battlefield in nobler sort. All honor to his memory!
John Ayres, the fellow to whom Cary Eggleston handed his rammer, was at his home in Buckingham County, Virginia, on furlough, when we started on the campaign. Off in the remote country, he didn’t hear of our movements for several days. The moment he heard it, off he started, walked thirteen miles to the James River Canal boat; got to Richmond, came up to Louisa County on the Central Railroad, got off and walked twenty-three miles across country, guidedby the sound of the battle, and reached his gun just in time to take Eggleston’s place as “No. 1” and finish the fight.
When the enemy had thus broken in such utter rout, and with such fearful losses, we did hope they would let us alone, for this day at least. We were wet, and hungry, and nearly worn out working the gun, off and on all day, and it was late in the afternoon. For an hour or more things were quiet; the woods in front seemed deserted and still; the Texans were lying stretched out on the ground, all along the line; many of them asleep. We cannoneers were wearily sitting about the guns, wishing to gracious we had something to eat, and could go to bed, even if thebed wereonly one blanket, on the wet ground.
Our rifled guns had just been firing at a Federal battery which we could see, up on the hill in front of us. Watching the effect of the shots, we saw one of the caissons blown up, and a gun disabled, and soon confusion. Somebody remarked, “how easy it would be to take that battery, if any of our infantry were in reach.” Just then, we heard loud cheering, which sounded to us, to be up in the woods, on our left, where Hill’s men were. Someone instantly cried out, “There it goes now! Hill’s men are going to take those guns.” We eagerly gathered at the works, some distance to the left of our guns, where we could see better, and stood gazing up at the edge of the field, expecting every moment to see Hill’s troops burst outof the woods, and rush upon these guns. Our attention was absorbed, off there, when, all of a sudden, one of our fellows who happened to glance the other way, yelled, “Good heavens! look out on the right.” We all looked! There, pouring out of the woods, yelling like mad men, came the Federal infantry, fast as they could run, rushing straight upon our line. The whole field was blue with them! When we first saw them, the foremost were already within one hundred yards of our works, and aiming for a point about two hundred yards to our right. The breath was about knocked out of us by the suddenness of the surprise! It was not Hill’s men chargingthem, but these fellows charging us,—whose yells we had heard, and here they were, right upon us! In two jumps we were at our gun. We had to turn it more to the right, and, with the first shot, blow away a light traverse, which was higher than the level of the gun, before we could bear on their columns. We sent two or three canisters tearing through their ranks; the Texans were blazing away, but, they had got too close to be stopped. The next instant, they surged over our works like a great blue wave, and were inside.
“Texas Will Never Forget Virginia”
So sudden was the surprise that they bayonetted two of the Texan infantry, asleep upon the ground. Soon as they got over they turned, and began to sweep down the works, on the inside, upon our guns. As the Texans forced to retire streamed past our guns,leaving us all alone and unsupported to face the enemy, Lieutenant Anderson said, “Men, the road is only a little way back of us; we must stay here, and stop these people, or the Army is cut in two. Run the guns back and open on them. We can hold them until help comes.” We turned the guns round so as to command the approaching enemy, and chocked them with rails; several men snatched up the pile of ammunition, and piled it down before the guns in their new place, then we opened, with double canister.
If ever two guns were worked for all they were worth, those were! I don’t believe any two guns, in the same time, ever fired as many shots as those two “Napoleons” did. We kept them justspouting canister! Several timesthree canisterswere fired. Billy White, “No. 2,” had only to reach down for them, and he would have loaded the gunsto the muzzleif “No. 1” had given him time. The gun got so hot that, once, in jumping in to put in the friction primer, the back of my left hand touched it, and the skin was nearly taken off. The sponge was entirely worn off the rammer, so “No. 1” stopped sponging out the gun, and only rammed shot home. We fired so fast that the powder did not have time to ignite in the gun. After firing the gun, “No. 4” could hardly get the “primer” in before the gun was loaded, and ready to fire again. So it went on! It was fast and furious work! And the bullets sounded like bees buzzing above our heads.
I felt a sharp pain, then a numbness in my right hand. I glanced at it, and saw that the back of it was cut open, and bleeding. I had to pull the lanyard with my left hand the rest of the fight. I supposed a bullet had done it, but was disgusted to see blood on one of the rails, which chocked our gun, and find that this rail had worked loose, and, when struck by the recoiling gun wheel, had flown round and struck my hand, and disabled it. So, it was not an “honorable” wound, even though received in battle, as it was not done by a missile of the enemy.
Minute after minute, this hot work went on. The enemy, in coming over our works, and sweeping around, was thrown into disorder, so that they advanced on us in a confused mass.
In this mass our canister was doing deadly work, cutting lanes in every direction. Still on they came; getting slower in their advance as the canister constantly swept away the foremost men. The men in front began to flinch, they were within thirty yards of us,—firing wildly now. One good rush! and their bayonets would have silenced our guns! But they could not face that hail of death any longer; they could not make that rush! They began to give back from our muzzles.
At that moment, the Texans having rallied under the bank, forty yards to our right, and rear, came leaping like tigers upon their flank. The Texans wereperfectly furious! It was the first time during the whole war that they had been forced from a position, under fire, and they were mad enough to eat those people up. A screaming yell burst out, a terrific outbreak of musketry, a rush, with the bayonets, and the inside of our work was clear of all, save the many dead, and wounded, and six hundred prisoners.
We ran our gun instantly back to its place, in the works, and got several shots into the flying mob, outside.
Then all was gone, and we were ready to drop in our tracks, with the exhausting work of the ten minutes that we had held the foe at bay.
General Gregg came up to our gun. With strong emotion he shook hands with each of us; he then took off his hat, and said, “Boys, Texas will never forget Virginia for this! Your heroic stand saved the line, and enabled my brigade to rally, and redeem its honor. It is the first time it ever left a position under fire, and it was only forced out, now, by surprise, and overwhelming weight. But it could not have rallied except for you. God bless you!” This moment Bob Stiles came up at a run. He had left the guns a few moments before the attack came, and hearing our guns so busy came back.
When General Gregg told him in a very enthusiastic way what we had done, he just rushed up to each cannoneer, and hugged him with a grip, strong enough to crush in his ribs, and vowed he was going to resign his Adjutancy at once, and come back to the guns.
Pretty soon Major-General Field, commanding part of the line, came dashing up on his horse, and leaped off. He went round shaking hands with us, and saying very civil things. He was red hot! He had witnessed the whole thing from his position, on a hill near by. He said, “When he saw the Federals roll over our works, and the Texans fall back, he was at his wits’ end. He did not have a man to send us, and thought the line was hopelessly broken.” Then he saw us turn our two guns down inside the works. He said to his courier, “It isn’t possible these fellows will even attempt to keep their guns there. The enemy will be over them in two minutes.” But as our guns roared, and the enemy slowed down, he swung his hat, as the courier told us, and yelled out, “By George, they will do it!” and clapping spurs into his horse he came tearing over to find the Texans in their line, all solid again. He said to us, “Men, it was perfectly magnificent, and I have to say that your splendid stand saved the Army from disaster. If the line had been broken here I don’t know what we should have done.”
Of course all this was very nice to hear. We tried tolookas if we wereused to this sort of thing all the time. But, it was something for us, young chaps, to have our hands shaken nearly off, by enthusiastic admirers, in the shape of Brigadier and Major-Generals, especially as they were such heroic old veteransas Field and Gregg, and to have the breath hugged out of us by an old comrade. All this glory was only to be divided up amongnine men, so there was a big share for each one. I must confess, it was very pleasant indeed to hear that men, who were judges, thought we had done a fine thing; and when in General Orders next day our little performance was mentioned to the whole army in most complimentary terms, and we knew that the folks at home would hear it, I am free to say, that we wouldnothave “taken a penny for our thoughts.”
Contrast in Losses and the Reasons Therefor
The fight was over, just about as dusk was closing in. In this, and the fight at five o’clock, the enemy lost about six thousand men, killed and wounded. In the assaults, atten,elevenand atthreeo’clock, they certainly lost between two and three thousand in killed and wounded, so this day’s work cost them about seven or eight thousand in killed and wounded, besides prisoners.
Our loss was very small. On our immediate part of the line, almost nothing. In the battery, we had one man wounded at five o’clock. In this furious close up fight with infantry, with the awful mauling our guns gave them, strange to say, we had not a man touched. The only blood shed that day, at the “4th” gun, was caused by that rail striking my hand. And our battle line was just as it was, in the morning, savefor the hecatomb of dead and dying in front of it, and six hundred prisoners we held inside.
About these prisoners: Numbers of these men were drunk, and officers too. One Colonel was so drunk that he did not know he was captured, or what had happened. The explanation of this fact, I do not profess to know, butthiswas whatthe men themselves told us, “That before they charged, heavy rations of whiskey were issued, and the men made to drink it. I know that indignant denial has been made of this charge, that the Federal soldiers weremade drunkto send them in, butthisI docertainly know, as an eye witness, and hundreds of our men know it too, that here, on the Spottsylvania line, and at Cold Harbor, and other times in this campaign, we captured numbers of the men, assaulting our lines, who were very drunk, and said they were made to drink. And this fact is one reason for the carnage among them, and the light loss they inflicted upon us. It made their men shoot wildly, and the moment our men saw this, they could, with the cooler aim, send death into their ranks. These hundreds of men going,drunk, to face death was a horrible sight; it is a horrible thought, butit was a fact.
Why Captain Hunter Failed to Rally His Men
In the quiet time, just before that sudden rush which swept over the works, Captain Hunter, of the Texans, was frying some pieces of fat bacon in a frying pan, over a little fire just by our gun. In a flash,the enemy was over the work, and we were in the thick of battle, and confusion. The Captain glanced from his frying bacon, to see his company falling back from the works, and the enemy pouring over. The sudden sight instantly drove him wild with excitement! He utterly forgot what he was doing. With a loud yell, he swung that frying pan round and round his head,—the hot grease flying in all directions,—and rushed to his men, and tried to rally them. (Havinglost the meat, hefailed! With a frying pan full of meat he could have rallied the regiment!) Back he fell with the brigade, and disappeared under the hill.
When the rallied Brigade came whooping back upon the enemy, ten minutes after, who should be in front tearing up the hill, leading the charge, but the gallant Captain, yelling like everything, and still waving that frying pan, to cheer on his men. More gallant charge was never led, with gleaming sword, than was this, led with that Texas frying pan.
At the time we were getting our guns around to fire upon the enemy inside the works, as the retiring Texans were falling back past us, Dr. Carter stepped quickly out, and in his courteous manner, called out to them, “Gentlemen, dear gentlemen, I hope that you are not running.” A passing infantryman, a gaunt, unwashed, ragged chap, replied, “Never you mind, old fellow! We are just dropping back to get to ’em.” “I beg your pardon,” retorted the Doctor, “but if you want toget to them, you ought toturn round; theyare not the way you are going.” They passed on, and the fight took place. When it was over we noticed that the Doctor was very much vexed about something. We asked what was the matter? He said, “Never mind!” We insisted on his saying what disturbed him so. At last, he said “Well, I don’t see why, because men are in the army, they should not observe the amenities customary among gentlemen.” “Well,” we said, “that is all right; but why do you say it?” “Why!” he warmly said; “did you hear that dirty, ragged infantryman call me an old fellow? A most disrespectful way to address a gentleman!”
All the row of the fight had not put it out of the Doctor’s mind, and he brooded over it for some time. He never did get used to the lack of “amenities” and he always had an humble opinion of that unknown Texan, who did not observe the form of address customary among gentlemen. The Doctor himself always followed his own rule; he was as courteous in manner, and civil in speech, as “observant of the amenities” in the thick of a fight, as in his own parlor.
This was the first battle the Doctor was in, having lately joined us. As we ceased firing, one of us exclaimed, as we were apt to do, when a fight was over, “Well! that was a hot place.” The Doctor turned on him and eagerly said, “Did I understand you to say that was a hot place?” “I did, indeed, and it was.” The Doctor turned to another, and another,with the same eager question, “Didyouthink that was a hot place?” “Yes,” we all agreed, “it was about as hot a one as we ever saw, or cared to see.” “Well,” said the Doctor, in a very relieved tone, “I am very glad to hear you gentlemen, who have had experience, say so. I hesitated a long time about coming into the army, because I did not want to disgrace my family, and I was afraid I should run, at the first fire; but, if you callthata hot place I think I can stand it.” The Doctor’s distrust of himself was very funny to us; for he was so utterly fearless, and reckless of danger, that some of the men thought, and said, that he tried to get himself shot. And once, the Captain threatened to put him under arrest, and send him to the rear, if he did not stop wantonly exposing his life. He had very little cause to distrust his courage, or fear that he would “disgrace his family” inthis, orany other way.
When the fight was over, we promptly went among the Federal wounded, who lay thickly strewn on the inside of our lines, to see what we could do for their comfort and relief. Curious how one could, one minute, shoot a man down, and the next minute go and minister to him like a brother; so it was! The moment an enemy was wounded he ceased to be thought of as an enemy, and was just a suffering fellow man.
We did what we could for these wounded men, giving water to some; disposing the bodies of some ina more comfortable position, cheering them all up with the promise of prompt aid from the surgeons.
Among many others, we came to one man, mortally wounded and dying. His life was fast ebbing way; he was perfectly aware of his condition. He earnestly entreated that some one of us would pray for him. The request was passed on to Robert Stiles, who was still at our guns.
He came at once! Taking the hand of the poor dying fellow tenderly in his own, Stiles knelt right down by him on that wet, bloody ground, and, in a fervent prayer commended his soul to God. Then, as a brother might, stayed by him, saying what he could to comfort the troubled soul, and fix his thoughts upon the Saviour of men, and have him ready to meet his God.
Some of us looked reverently on with hearts full of sympathy in the scene. It was a sight I wish the men of both armies could have looked upon. Right on the bloody battlefield, surrounded by the dead and dying, that Confederate soldier kneeling over that dying Federal soldier praying for him.
Well! the long weary day of battle was closing and the fighting was done, at last. This 10th of May was a day filled up with fun, and fasting, and furious fighting; simple description, butcorrect. Thirteen to sixteen lines of infantry we had broken, and repulsed, during that day; and what between infantry and artillery we were under fire all day from five A. M. tonine o’clock that night; had toiled all night long, the night before; not a morsel had passed our lips all day, but one small crustless corn cake, taken out of a wet bag that had lain for hours, in the rain. A tired lot, we lay down that night on the wet ground to sleep, and be ready for the morrow. We fell asleep with the artillery still roaring on the lines, and shells still screaming about in the dark, and slept a sound dreamless sleep all through the night.
The next day,the 11th, was, for the most part, quiet and uneventful! The bloody and disastrous repulse of every effort of the enemy to force our line, had, as it well might, discouraged any further attempt along our front. From time to time we could hear the Federal artillery, on our front or other parts of the line, feeling our position, with an occasional reply from our guns.
The sharp-shooters of both sides were keeping up their own peculiar fun. At every point of vantage, on a hill, or behind a stump, or up a leafy tree, one of these marksmen was concealed, and would try his globe-sight rifle on any convenient mark, in the way of a man, which offered on the opposite line. Any fellow who exposed himself soon heard a bullet whistle past his ear, too close for comfort. Several of us had narrow escapes, but the only casualty we suffered was Cornelius Coyle. Coyle was from North Carolina and it seems that the jokes we were wont to indulge in at the expense of the “Tar Heels” hadgotten him sore on the subject. In order to show us that a “Tar Heel” was as careless of danger as anybody else, he exposed himself, very unnecessarily, by standing on the works and on the guns, while the rest of us were “roosting low,” and about two o’clock he got a bullet in the thigh, which disabled him, I believe, for the rest of the war. It was bad judgment! The jokes on the “Tar Heels” were only meant in fun. Nobody ever doubted the courage and gallantry of the North Carolinians. They had proved it too often, and were proving it every day! It did not need for Coyle to expose himself to prove it to us, and by his mistake we lost a good soldier.
The coming of night found all quiet on the lines. In the late afternoon, and early night, we could plainly hear the sound of,—what we took to be,—wagon trains and artillery, over in the enemy’s lines, passing off to our right. We got therefrom the impression that the Federals were leaving our front and that by morning they would all be gone. So we were not surprised when a courier came with the orders from headquarters that we should get our guns out of the works, limber up, and be ready to move at daylight.
Having “A Cannon Handy”
We drew our gun from its place at the works, up the little incline we had made for its more easy running forward, hitched its trail to the pintle-hook of the limber, chocked the wheels, and left it there until weshould move. The men picked out the least wet spots they could find, and lay down to sleep. Everybody was very tired, nearly worn out with the incessant work, and marching, and watching, and fighting, of the last seven or eight days and nights. This was the first really quiet night we had known for a week! The quiet and the assurance that the enemy was gone from our front, and that there was no need to bother about them, lulled the men into deep slumber. The infantry was all stretched out along the lines sleeping, and even the pickets out in front were, I am sure, sound asleep.
Every soul of our cannoneers was asleep, except Sergt. Dan. McCarthy, Beau Barnes, Jack Booker, and myself. We sat together, by the gun, talking and smoking until midnight. Then Jack said he would go to bed, and did. We three, McCarthy, Barnes and I, continued our conversation for some time longer, for no special reason, except perhaps, that we were too tired to move, and we sat there, in the dark, listening to the rumbling of heavy wheels over in the Federal lines, and talking about the events of the last few days, speculating about what was to come. Then our thoughts ran on other days, and scenes, and the folks at home, and we talked about these until we became quite sentimental.
Several times it was suggested that we had better go to sleep, but we talked ourselves wide awake. About two o’clock it was again suggested, but Dan said he did wish we had something to eat first. Thiswas a most agreeable thought, and in discussing the same it was discovered that I had a corncake, Dan had some coffee, and Beau some sugar. So we resolved, before lying down, to go back under the hill, some fifty yards behind the works, where a fire was kept burning or smoldering all the time, and have a little supper of bread and coffee, which we proceeded to do. We made up the fire, got water from the branch, warmed our corncake, boiled the coffee, got out our tin cups, and sat around the fire having a fine time. It was now about time for daybreak, though still very dark. Dan proposed that we stroll up to the guns, and lie down awhile. We walked slowly up! When we got to the guns all was still, and quiet, as when we left, and I really believe we three were the only men awake on that part of the line.
Before lying down Dan and I stepped to where our gun had been, and stood a moment looking out through the dim light, which had hardly begun, of a dark cloudy morning.
We had no object in this outlook, it was the instinct of a soldier to look around him before going to sleep. It was, I think, the Providence of God to an important result. For most fortunate indeed was it that we took that glance out toward the front.
As our eye rested upon the edge of the wood out to our right front, we caught a vague glimpse of movement among the trees. We called Barnes, and stoodtogether, watching keenly. Presently the air lightened a little, and we could discern the dim figures of men moving about, just within the woods. “Who are those men?” Dan asked. “Did either of you see any of the troops pass out of the lines during the night?” “No, we had not.” “Then,” he said, “I don’t like this. Who can they be?” Just then the cloud seemed to lift a little, more light shot into the landscape, and, to our dismay, we clearly saw a line of men. Yes! no doubt now! That was a battle line of Federals, formed there in the edge of the woods, and just beginning to advance,—as silently as so many ghosts. There they were, two hundred yards off marching swiftly for our line, and everybody fast asleep in that line!
The horror of the situation flashed on us. The enemy would be bayonetting our sleeping, helpless comrades, and the line be taken in two minutes! What could we do to save them? Wake them up? No time to get a dozen men roused up before the fatal peril would be upon us. Suddenly! the same thought seemed to flash into our minds. Fire the gun! that will wake up the line instantly. Come boys! There was a case-shot in the gun. I remembered I had not fired it out, and I had my friction primer box on, and a primer hooked to the lanyard. We jerked the trail loose from the limber, and let the gun run to its place! Before it stopped, I think, I had the primer in, whileDan pulled the trail round to get the aim. He sprung aside as I let drive.
The crash of that Napoleon, and the scream of the shell there, in the deep stillness of day-dawn, sounded as if it might be heard all over Virginia! The effect was instant! You ought to have seen the boys, lying all about, “tumble up.” They flirted up from the ground like snapbugs! “Gabriel’s trumpet” couldn’t have jerked them to their feet quicker.
Ned Barnes had lain down right where the gun had been, at the work. When we ran it back to its place, in our excitement, we did not notice him. Fortunately the wheels went on either side of him. He was lying flat on his back, and right under the gun, when it fired. Ned went on like a chicken with its head off. There was a scuffle, a yell, the whack of a bumped head under the gun. Ned came tumbling out, all in a heap, perfectly dazed, and wanting to know, in indignant tones, “What in the thunder we were doing that wayfor?”
Before the sound of our gun had died away the whole line was up, shooting like mad, and both guns were going hard. A few minutes of this sent that sneaking line back to the woods, with a good deal more noise, and faster, than it came. We learnt, afterwards, that the idea was to surprise us, if possible. If so, to take, and sweep our line. If not,notto press the attack. The “surprise” was all they couldhave wished. Not a picket fired on them. They were in one hundred and fifty yards of our sleeping men, and could have simply walked over them, and captured the whole line at that point. And,if they had—fixed as our Army was, a half hour later—it would, I am sure, have meant disaster. The only thing that averted it was,humanlyspeaking, theaccidentthat three young “Howitzers” sat up talking all night, and, happened to look over at that wood at the break of day,—andhad a cannon handy!
I think the Texans “owed us another one” for this, and the Army of Northern Virginia “owed us one” too. Major-General Fieldsaid soin his report of this incident.
The very same thing whichwould have happened here was happeningfive minutes later up the line to our right, where the Federal troops came right over our works, and caught our exhausted soldiers asleep in their blankets—the start of the bloody business of the Bloody Angle.
Yes! the bloody work which was to go on all day long, this dreadful 12th of May, was already beginning, up there in the woods.
The little firing on our part of the line was scarcely over, before we heard the sound of musketry come rolling down the line from the right. Soon the big guns joined in, and we knew that a furious fight was going on, off there. In a few moments we got thenews, called from man to man down along the lines, “The Yankees have taken the Salient on Ewell’s front, and captured Ed. Johnson’s Division, and twenty guns. Pass it down the lines!”
So it was! In overwhelming masses the Federals had poured out of the woods, over the Salient Angle, where the men were asleep, and from which the cannon had been withdrawn. And General Lee was trying to drive them out, and retake our works.
This was the great business of the 12th of May. A very cyclone of battle raged round that Salient. The Federals trying to hold it, our men trying to retake it. We heard that the two Parrott guns of our “Right Section” had gone over there to help, and they were in the thick of that awful row. We heard it all going on, artillery and musketry, rolling and crashing away, all day long.
Our part of the line was comparatively quiet, after the fight of the early morning. Several times infantry was seen moving about, down in the woods, in our front, and we would send a few shells into the woods just to let them know that we were watchful, and ready. Harry Sublett was wounded by a stray ball on this day. But no real attack was made, only the sound of thesharp-shooter’srifle, and the sound of their bullets enlivened the time.
This went on for several days. The idea of breaking our line, here, had been given up as a hopelessjob, and no other attempt was made on it. Assaults were made on other points, and we could hear fighting, here and there, but we were left alone.
At last, we got orders to move, about the 18th or 19th. Our pickets had advanced through the woods, and reported that the enemy had left our front.
While waiting for the horses to be brought up to take off the guns, an infantryman told me that a cow had been killed, between the lines, and was lying down there in the woods, in front.
We had had an awful time about food, for the last week, and were hungry as wolves. This news about the cow was news indeed. I told several of the boys, and off we started to get some of that cow! We found it lying just in the edge of the woods. It was a hideous place to go for a beefsteak! All around, the ground was covered with dead Federal soldiers, many in an advanced stage of decay. The woods had been on fire, and many of these bodies were burned; some with the clothing, and nearly all the flesh consumed! The carcass of that cow wastouching five dead bodies,—which will give an idea of how thick the dead were lying. Many of their wounded had perished in the flames, which had swept over the ground.