Corporal Jesse B. YoungCorporal Jesse B. Young
Corporal Jesse B. Young
Near 2:50 P.M., as the artillery fire had practically ceased, there came the order, "Fall in!" and brave General Pickett, coming close by where I lay wounded, called out: "Up, men, and to your posts! Don't forget today that you are from old Virginia!" The effect of this word upon the men was electrical. The regiments were quickly in line, closing to the left over the dead and wounded—the ranks now reduced by the losses occasioned by the shelling to about 4,400 men of the division, and I am satisfied that Kemper's brigade, the smallest of the division, did not then number over 1,250. The advance now began, the men calling out to the wounded and others: "Goodbye, boys! Goodbye!" Unable to move, I could not accompany this advance—did not see, hear, observe or know what thereafter happened only from the statement of others. I will not attempt to state, but for a reasonable and fair report thereof will give the published statement of an intelligent Union soldier (a Massachusetts man) who observed the movement of Pickett's division, which is as follows:
"But what is Gettysburg, either in its first day's Federal defeat, or its second day's terrible slaughter around Little Round Top, without the third day's immortal charge by Pickett and his brave Virginians!* * *Then Pickett and his brave legions stood up and formed for the death struggle: three remnants of brigades, consisting of Garnett's—the 8th, 18th, 19th, 28th and 56th Virginia; Armistead's brigade—the 9th, 14th, 38th, 53d, 57th Virginia; Kemper's brigade—1st, 3d, 7th, 11th, 24th Virginia. Their tattered flags bore the scars of a score of battles, and from their ranks the merciless bullet had already taken two-thirds their number. In compact ranks: their front scarcely covering two of Hancock's brigades, with flags waiving as if for a gala day.* * *It was nearly a mile to the Union lines, and as they advanced over the open plain the Federal artillery opened again, plowing great lanes through their solid ranks, but they closed up to guide center, as if upon dress parade. When half way over, Pickett halted his division amidst a terrible fire of shot and shell, and changed his direction by an oblique movement, coolly and beautifully made.* * *To those who have ever faced artillery fire it is marvellous and unexplainable how human beings could have advanced under the terrific fire of a hundred cannon, every inch of air being laden with the missiles of death; but in splendid formation they still came bravely on till within range of the musketry; then the blue line of Hancock's corps arose and poured into their ranks a murderous fire. With a wild yell the rebels pushed on, unfalteringly, crossed the Federal lines and laid hands upon eleven cannon."Men fired into each other's faces; there were bayonet thrusts, cutting with sabres, hand-to-hand contests, oaths, curses, yells and hurrahs. The Second corps fell back behind the guns to allow the use of grape and double cannister, and as it tore through the rebel ranks at only a few paces distant, the dead and wounded were piled in ghastly heaps; still on they came up to the very muzzles of their guns; they were blown away from the cannon's mouth, but yet they did not waiver. Pickett had taken the key to the position, and the glad shout of victory was heard, as, the very impersonation of a soldier, he still forced his troops to the crest of Cemetery Ridge. Kemper and Armistead broke through Hancock's line, scaled the hill and planted their flags on its crest. Just before Armistead was shot, he placed his flag upon a captured cannon and cried: 'Give them the cold steel, boys!' But valor could do no more, the handful of braves had won immortality, but could not conquer an army.* * *Pickett, seeing his supports gone, his Generals Kemper, Armistead and Garnett killed or wounded, every field officer of three brigades gone, three-fourths of his men killed or captured, himself untouched, but broken-hearted, gave the order for retreat, but, band of heroes as they were, they fled not; but amidst that still continuous, terrible fire, they slowly, sullenly, recrossed the plain—all that was left of them, but few of five thousand."
"But what is Gettysburg, either in its first day's Federal defeat, or its second day's terrible slaughter around Little Round Top, without the third day's immortal charge by Pickett and his brave Virginians!* * *Then Pickett and his brave legions stood up and formed for the death struggle: three remnants of brigades, consisting of Garnett's—the 8th, 18th, 19th, 28th and 56th Virginia; Armistead's brigade—the 9th, 14th, 38th, 53d, 57th Virginia; Kemper's brigade—1st, 3d, 7th, 11th, 24th Virginia. Their tattered flags bore the scars of a score of battles, and from their ranks the merciless bullet had already taken two-thirds their number. In compact ranks: their front scarcely covering two of Hancock's brigades, with flags waiving as if for a gala day.* * *It was nearly a mile to the Union lines, and as they advanced over the open plain the Federal artillery opened again, plowing great lanes through their solid ranks, but they closed up to guide center, as if upon dress parade. When half way over, Pickett halted his division amidst a terrible fire of shot and shell, and changed his direction by an oblique movement, coolly and beautifully made.* * *To those who have ever faced artillery fire it is marvellous and unexplainable how human beings could have advanced under the terrific fire of a hundred cannon, every inch of air being laden with the missiles of death; but in splendid formation they still came bravely on till within range of the musketry; then the blue line of Hancock's corps arose and poured into their ranks a murderous fire. With a wild yell the rebels pushed on, unfalteringly, crossed the Federal lines and laid hands upon eleven cannon.
"Men fired into each other's faces; there were bayonet thrusts, cutting with sabres, hand-to-hand contests, oaths, curses, yells and hurrahs. The Second corps fell back behind the guns to allow the use of grape and double cannister, and as it tore through the rebel ranks at only a few paces distant, the dead and wounded were piled in ghastly heaps; still on they came up to the very muzzles of their guns; they were blown away from the cannon's mouth, but yet they did not waiver. Pickett had taken the key to the position, and the glad shout of victory was heard, as, the very impersonation of a soldier, he still forced his troops to the crest of Cemetery Ridge. Kemper and Armistead broke through Hancock's line, scaled the hill and planted their flags on its crest. Just before Armistead was shot, he placed his flag upon a captured cannon and cried: 'Give them the cold steel, boys!' But valor could do no more, the handful of braves had won immortality, but could not conquer an army.* * *Pickett, seeing his supports gone, his Generals Kemper, Armistead and Garnett killed or wounded, every field officer of three brigades gone, three-fourths of his men killed or captured, himself untouched, but broken-hearted, gave the order for retreat, but, band of heroes as they were, they fled not; but amidst that still continuous, terrible fire, they slowly, sullenly, recrossed the plain—all that was left of them, but few of five thousand."
Pickett's division was the only organized body of Confederates that crossed the stone fence. In a letter of General Kemper to me he gives a short description, and but brief, of this wonderful charge, in which he states: "I think General Garnett and myself were the only officers of Pickett's division who went into the battle mounted and remained mounted until shot down. My recollection is that I fell just about the time our men began to give back. I was close enough to the enemy to distinguish features and expressions of faces, and thought I observed and could identify the individual who shot me. Quickly afterwards a Federal officer, with several of his men, took possession of me, placing me on a blanket, started to carry me, as he said, to a Federal surgeon, when some of our men, firing over my body, recaptured me and carried me to our rear.
"As to how the three brigades of our division advanced in line of battle when the artillery ceased firing; as to how the gaps were closed up as men fell and the general alignment was well preserved; as to the cul-de-sac of death, our unsupported, or very badly supported division was hurled into; as to the last unavailing grapple with the overwhelming numbers of the enemy: all these are matters about which you doubtless know as much as I do."
As already stated, it was 1,430 yards from our position to that occupied by the Union infantry; it was practically open field. It was the longest charge in open ground under heavy fire that our troops were ever required to make. Indeed, this was the most remarkable charge made in the annals of warfare.
The Union army, under General Burnside, at the Battle of Fredericksburg against Marye's Hill, made as many as fourteen distinct charges as brave and gallant as were ever made by any soldiers, at some points leaving their dead within a few yards of the Confederate lines, but each time repulsed with heavy loss, but the fact must not be overlooked that these charging columns had fairly good cover to within four hundred yards of the Confederate line.
Had the Confederate assaulting column had a shorter run with protected cover, it is almost certain that the Union lines would have been broken, the Federal army cut in twain, forced to rapid retreat to avoid capture or destruction. Again, it is manifest that had the Federal army been in the open on the third day as on the first and for most part on the second day, General Meade's Union army would have been crushed. As it was, in a well-protected position, and the battle well conducted by General Meade, he barely escaped defeat—too badly crippled to promptly pursue the Confederates.
General Meade was a good soldier, and the Union army of the Potomac made a splendid fight. No doubt General Meade and the Army of the Potomac were proud of their achievement at Gettysburg, for they had been hammered so much and so often by the Army of Northern Virginia that they doubtless expected the same old bill of fare. A little relief was comforting; the other fellows were now sore, for Gettysburg battle was a sad and gloomy one for the Army of Northern Virginia and the Confederacy, but the survivors had not lost their old-time spirit; they soon recuperated, and were themselves again ready for the fray.
In the battles from the Rapidan to the James in the Spring and Summer of 1864, the soldiers of the Army of Northern Virginia showed that they had not lost their old-time spirit, pluck, and fighting qualities, and if the more than twenty thousand men lost by General Lee at Gettysburg had been with him in the Wilderness, in the Spring of 1864, General Grant would not have reached the James by that route. At Gettysburg General Meade had about 105,000 men; General Lee about 62,000. These figures are given by Colonel Taylor, a member of General Lee's staff, and adjutant-general of the army, taken, as he states, from the official records. General Meade himself states his strength not less than 95,000 men. The Federal loss was 23,049; Confederate, 20,451.
The loss in Pickett's division was 2,888; in Kemper's brigade, 58 killed, 356 wounded and 317 captured. In the 7th Virginia regiment the loss was 67. In Company D, David C. Akers, Daniel Bish, Jesse Barrett and John P. Sublett were killed; Lieutenant E. R. Walker and E. M. Stone, Sergeant Taylor and myself, Corporal Young, Privates William C. Fortner, James H. Fortner, J. J. Hurt, John F. Jones (leg amputated), John Meadows, W. W. Muncey and D. L. Sarver, wounded, and John W. Hight captured; total 17—over sixty per cent of the number led into action. By this statement it will be seen that my Company D came out of the Battle of Gettysburg with but 11 men. J. B. Young belonged to the color guard of the 7th regiment. The color bearer, Lieutenant Watson, with his guards, eight sergeants and corporals going into the battle were all either killed or wounded. Our colors fell into the hands of the 82d New York infantry, commanded by Captain John Darrow. Corporal Young was the eighth man who had the colors during the fight, carrying them within a few feet of the enemy's line behind the stone fence, where he was wounded and captured. The colors were then taken by —— Tolbert, a mere boy of ours, who bore them forward to the stone fence, where he intended to plant them, but was shot in the head. The colors were then grabbed by the man who fired the shot and carried back into the Union lines.
The loss in officers in Pickett's division was something fearful to contemplate. General Garnett was killed, Armistead mortally and Kemper dangerously wounded. Of the whole complement of generals and field officers, aggregating about 48, only one lieutenant-colonel was left. The division was nearly annihilated. General Kemper fell into the enemy's hands in field hospital the second day after he was wounded. So bad was his wound, and he was believed to be so near death, that a coffin was prepared for him, which he refused to use. He survived, and afterwards became Governor of Virginia, serving with distinction and much honor from his countrymen. During his gubernatorial term he carried in his hip a leaden bullet of standard weight and size.
Of the wounded in Company D, Lieutenant Stone, Corporal Young, Privates William C. Fortner, James H. Fortner, Jones, Hurt and the writer fell into the hands of the enemy; Stone, Young, William C. Fortner, Jones and Hurt on the field; James H. Fortner and the writer the second day thereafter in the field hospital. Several of the men of Company D in the charge went over the stone wall, only a few getting back, among them Sergeant Taylor, and he wounded. Thomas N. Mustain, a valiant soldier, transferred from Company D to the 57th Virginia regiment, went over the stone wall, and while lying under the captured Union batteries was severely wounded in the neck.
Company E of the 7th regiment had four men—Alec Legg, John Canady, Willis Welch and Joseph Welch—killed during the artillery duel by the explosion of a shell. The company carried into the charge but one officer, Lieutenant Stone, and seventeen men, all of whom except one man were killed, wounded or captured.
Recurring to the wounding of myself at the closing of the artillery duel, I was at my post on the left of the regiment, which threw me under the shade of a friendly apple tree which chanced to stand there. I lay down near Colonel Mayo, of the 3d regiment, and Colonel Patton of the 7th, near the feet of the latter. A little before the artillery fire ceased, a Union battery at the Cemetery on our left front had on us an enfilading fire with accurate range, which threw shell and solid shot into our ranks. A shell from this battery struck the heads of two men of the 3d regiment, taking them off above the ears, exploding almost on me, not only killing the two men and wounding me, but also wounding Lieutenant Brown of the 7th regiment, and another, who lay close on my right. Just a moment before this shell came, I had raised my head up to get, if possible, a breath of fresh air, whereupon Lieutenant Brown said to me: "You had better put your head down or you may get it knocked off." I replied: "A man had about as well die that way as to suffocate for want of air." The words had scarcely escaped my lips when the shell exploded, which for a few moments deprived me of my breath and sensibility; I found myself lying off from the position I was in when struck, gasping for breath. My ribs on left side were broken, some fractured, left lung badly contused, and left limbs and side paralyzed. My Colonel Patton, sprang to his feet inquiring if I was badly hurt. I asked for water, the first thing a wounded man wants, and the Colonel had it brought to me. The marvel is that I escaped the explosion of that shell without being torn to shreds. Harry Snidow and another of my old company brought a blanket, placing it at the base of the apple tree, where they set me up against the tree. Just then the order came for the men to fall in for the charge, which has already been described. Colonel Mayo, after the war, describing this day's battle and the part taken by our division, refers to me as "one left for dead under that apple tree." I still live, while the brave and good Colonel has passed to the Great Beyond.
In a few minutes after the men moved forward, the "litter bearers" picked me up and bore me back into the woods to our field hospital, where our surgeons, Drs. Oliver and Worthington, did for me all in their power. About dark I was removed by ambulance to the shed of a farmer's barn, a mile or more away, on Willoughby Run, to the place where General Kemper had been removed, the farmer placing him in his dwelling house. I visited this same house twenty-two years later, where I saw distinctly the stains of General Kemper's blood on the floor. The shed in which I was placed was filled with the wounded and dying. Throughout that long night and until a little before dawn, I spoke to no one, and no one to me, never closed my eyes in sleep; the surgeons close by being engaged in removing the limbs of those necessary to be amputated, and all night long I heard nothing but the cries of the wounded and the groans of the dying, the agonies of General Kemper, who lay near by, being frequently heard. Everything in the barn was dark, but near dawn I discovered a flickering light advancing toward me: it was borne by John W. Grubb, of our regiment, who had been sent by our surgeon to look after me. Comrade Grubb was very kind to me, preparing for me a day or two later a bed and shelter in the orchard, to which I was removed, but he was taken away a prisoner by the Federals.
During the morning of Sunday many of our wounded men were brought in, among them Captain John H. Parr, adjutant of the 7th regiment, and Lieutenant Lewis Bane of the 24th regiment. Some of these wounded men died during the day.
During Sunday night and the following day the Confederate army was withdrawing from the field. Our brigade surgeon, Dr. Morton, and General Early made visits to the field hospital, urging all the men able to ride in wagons to go, of which a goodly number availed themselves. Shortly after the Confederate rear guard had passed the field hospital where I was, the Federal advance guard appeared, the Federal surgeons taking charge of us.
Lee's army continued the retreat into Virginia, and I did not join my command for service for four months after, at Taylorsville.
The Federal surgeon who took charge of us in the field hospital at Gettysburg made an examination of my wound and gave instructions that I should receive no solid food, but be fed lemonade and spirits. Up to this time and for days subsequent I wanted no food, having no desire for it. A Union soldier from Ohio was my nurse, who treated me with kindness. This soldier would get the daily Philadelphia newspapers and read to me the war news. Among other things, that Lee's army, badly broken, was making rapid retreat for Virginia; that the loyal Potomac was at high tide, could not be crossed; that General Meade's army was pushing the Confederates, would soon be up with them; then the following day he read that Lee's army was around Williamsport, could not get away; that Meade's army was now up and preparing for attack, only waiting the arrival of food supplies and ammunition. When receiving these papers and reading to me, the soldier's face was all aglow with joyous expression, to which he gave voice by saying: "The rebels will all be captured and that will end the war." To this I could only smile inwardly. July 13 my nurse, with his paper and a smile, came to read me the news. I was prepared for the worst—but when he read, it was that General Meade was now up, fully ready, and the attack would be made tomorrow, when Lee and his army would be captured, or driven into the river. Morning came, and the nurse and his paper, but as he approached I noted quite a change in his expression; he read, when General Meade moved out to attack the rebel army, behold! "the old fox had gone," having crossed the river the night before!
July 20 we were ordered to be removed from the field hospital, but to what place we did not know. A Union captain of Pennsylvania, with a squad of soldiers, conducted us to the railway station at Gettysburg nearly a mile away. I should not have gone, as the journey came near finishing me up. The captain was exceedingly kind, affording me all the help in his power. The whole of the wounded squad was put aboard box cars at night, landing in Baltimore at dawn, I more dead than alive. I felt sure, as the rough train rolled along, that I was near death. John H. Peck, of the 24th Virginia, who had a wound in the head, was with us, and by encouragement and otherwise rendered me much assistance.
In Baltimore the cars were run up far into the city, where we left the train, being immediately surrounded by a cordon of soldiers and police, with a number of ladies, men and boys, who endeavored to supply us with food, but were beaten off by the guards, who quickly landed us inside the high plank fence surrounding the grounds of West Building Hospital. The ladies again renewed their efforts to supply us with food by tossing it over the high fence, but were repulsed by the soldiers' bayonets—which we still think was a mean act. With James H. Fortner, of my company, who had a severe flesh wound in the thigh, I lay down beside the fence in the shade, unable to move further. In an hour or less an order came to get into ranks. Neither Fortner nor myself moved, being determined to remain and take chances. Fortunate for us that we remained, for the poor fellows who marched away landed in Point Lookout prison; the men seriously wounded, however, being sent to hospital at Chester, Pennsylvania, I among the number, with Fortner. I had requested Fortner to remain with me, for should I die he could inform my people. After comrades had marched away, Fortner and I dragged ourselves into the hospital building, lying down on the bare floor.
During the evening two ladies came in where we were, one of whom inquired: "Where are you from?" "Virginia," I answered. "Then you are not more than half rebels." Replying, I said: "Well, I am a full-blooded rebel, whatever the people of Virginia may be." From their constant glances at each other and toward the door, and from the expressions on their faces, I was well satisfied that at heart they were true Southern spirits, angels of mercy, and had used the above language to us fearing the walls had ears. Presently one inquired if we wanted anything to eat, and being told we would be glad to have milk, they furnished it and departed.
That night we were placed on cots near each other, in a clean, airy room. Fortner, in endeavoring to assist me to rise, fell on his wounded leg, which caused him great pain. The second night thereafter, we were placed in box cars, passing next day through Wilmington, Delaware, where a curious, motley crowd gathered to see us; they peeped and peered at us as if astonished that we did not have hoofs and horns. That evening we reached Chester, on the Delaware, where we were placed in hospital (now Crozer Theological Seminary). Here we met a number of the men we had parted from in Baltimore, among them John H. Peck and J. B. Young, the latter of Company D. The surgeon of our ward was Dr. Schafer of Philadelphia, who was kind to us. He, however, soon went away, being succeeded by a doctor from Franklin County—a Virginia renegade, who was insulting, mean and cowardly, and the wounded gave him many a hard thrust.
While in this hospital several ladies and gentlemen from the State of Connecticut came into the ward, engaging me in conversation about the war, saying among other things that the South in seceding was wrong and unjustifiable, that the proper course, or that which should have been pursued, was to fight in the Union. To which I replied that they were in some respects much like many of the Northern people who encouraged the South to take action, that they would be with us, but when the test came were found on the other side. Again, that I could not see well how we could remain in the Union and at the same time try to strangle and destroy the government of which we claimed to be a part; that it was certain, had we done so and been overthrown, we would have been traitors sure enough and most likely have gone to the gibbet.
After a stay at Chester of thirty days or less, all who desired to go South were paroled, I among the number, and were transported by boat to City Point, thence by rail to Richmond. The authorities ordered us to Camp Lee, a Confederate recruiting station near the city. This we did not like, and a few of us determined to go home, or to our commands, and we made the start, but were halted a little way out of the city by some local troops, who charged us with an effort to desert. We explained the situation, but this did not satisfy them. I met with a Confederate enrolling officer, who kindly took me home with him, giving me written pass to my command, then in camp on the Rapidan, whither I went, and was quite a surprise to Drs. Morton and Worthington and my comrades, who told me that they supposed me dead. Dr. Morton, who was wearing a soft felt black hat, said to me: "When I left you in the field hospital at Gettysburg I never expected to see you again in life. You were as black in the face as this hat." I soon had furlough and went home, where I remained until the first of November, when I learned I had been exchanged, and at once left to rejoin my command.
I forgot to relate an incident worthy of mention, at least to me. In the hospital at Chester, when Dr. Schafer already referred to examined me, he said: "Young man, do you know you are nearly dead?" I gasped for breath, saying: "I think it quite possible." Placing a small bottle of something within my reach, he charged me to take of this when inclined to cough, without waiting until the coughing began, for he said: "If you have a spell of coughing you would surely die of hemorrhage in ten minutes." He then procured for me a nurse, an Irishman, the father of two sons in the Union army, who had been in the Battle of Shiloh, Tenn. In speaking fondly of these boys he wept like a child. Fortunate it was that I fell into the hands of this kindly-hearted man, for a mother could not have cared more tenderly for her son than he did for me. Such cases confirm the fact that human sympathy asserts itself even in the rancors of war.
I joined my command, then at Taylorsville, Virginia, whither it had been sent to rendezvous and recruit, at the same time guarding the bridges over the North and South Anna rivers. Our long stay at Taylorsville during the months of November and December, 1863, and for part of January, 1864, gave ample opportunity to discuss the serious aspect of affairs. We had received a stunning blow at Gettysburg, evidenced by the absence forever of brave men whose places could not be supplied. Naturally the query was often made, how long will the war last? When will it end? What are our prospects for success? Will it continue until the last man falls? What do the Northern people mean? Is it their intention to subjugate the states, and overthrow the citadel of liberty itself? They call us rebels—can a sovereign be a rebel? We had been taught that the states were sovereign and that their governments were instituted to secure certain inalienable rights, with which their Creator had endowed them—among these, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and that the security of all these resided with the states and the people thereof, and not with their Federal agent. These and many other matters were discussed, and the general conclusion arrived at was: we will have to fight it out.
In the last days of November, the Federal army, under General Meade, crossed the Rapidan, making a feint as if to attack the Army of Northern Virginia, but instead re-crossed the river, seeming to have crossed for no other purpose than to cross back again. We had orders to be ready to go to General Lee's aid.
While at Taylorsville the Rev. Dr. Blackwell, who had resided in the cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth, Virginia, during General Butler's reign of terror therein, delivered to our brigade a lecture on Butler, his troops, and the noble women of those cities. After describing the insults of the Federal soldiery, and the sacrifices and heroic conduct of the women, he pronounced upon them an eulogy, a part only of which is recalled, and is now here reproduced; he began by saying:
"Woman is lovely, but not a goddess. We call her angel, but she has no wings to soar quite beyond the bounds of terrene. She is the loveliest form of beauty known to earth, and presents the purest type of that sweet companionship that awaits us in the bright land of the hereafter; but still she is flesh and blood, loves to steal from the bowers of her paradise and dwell with men, mingle in the common concerns and partake of the common infirmities of the human race. As the graceful vine entwines itself around the sturdy oak when riven by the lightnings of Heaven, so she, though the feebler, gentler sex, is the prop upon which the sterner sex in the midst of revolution often leans for repose. * * * And when the history of this revolution is fully written, these noble women will stand in the front ranks of that illustrious galaxy of Southern females whose heroic acts and beauteous deeds have illuminated our Heavens, and thrown a halo of fadeless glory around the noble women of Norfolk and Portsmouth."
"Woman is lovely, but not a goddess. We call her angel, but she has no wings to soar quite beyond the bounds of terrene. She is the loveliest form of beauty known to earth, and presents the purest type of that sweet companionship that awaits us in the bright land of the hereafter; but still she is flesh and blood, loves to steal from the bowers of her paradise and dwell with men, mingle in the common concerns and partake of the common infirmities of the human race. As the graceful vine entwines itself around the sturdy oak when riven by the lightnings of Heaven, so she, though the feebler, gentler sex, is the prop upon which the sterner sex in the midst of revolution often leans for repose. * * * And when the history of this revolution is fully written, these noble women will stand in the front ranks of that illustrious galaxy of Southern females whose heroic acts and beauteous deeds have illuminated our Heavens, and thrown a halo of fadeless glory around the noble women of Norfolk and Portsmouth."
Our General Pickett was married, as I now recall, in September, 1863, in Petersburg, Virginia, to Miss Corbell, a lovely, highly cultivated Virginia woman who occasionally rode with the General through our camps, attending the division review. Later, when Baby George arrived, he was exhibited in the camps, the soldiers eagerly fondling him; nor was his linen as spotless or his humor as sweet when handed back to his mother or nurse as when the boys received him.
The General and boy have both passed to the Great Beyond, but the lovely wife and mother still lives to brighten the memories of husband and son, the noble dead of the division, and to cheer the hearts of the brave men who counted it the honor of their lives to have marched with the noble Pickett, made famous for all time to come by his charge at Gettysburg, now celebrated in song and literature.
Our rations were not abundant while at Taylorsville; one pint of unsieved meal and a quarter of a pound of bacon per day. Coffee was made of parched wheat rye, and sometimes of rice when we had it. Occasionally the men managed to get turnips or potatoes, of which they made fairly good soup. There was so little of the bacon that we could not afford to fry it, so we generally ate it raw, with an ash or Johnny cake; we had but few cooking utensils, and had need of few.
Religious services were held when possible; the weather for the most part was too inclement to have open air services, and we had no church. Such services as were had were generally in the messes, or conducted in the quarters of J. Tyler Frazier, to which all were invited.
Being under orders to march, our preparations therefor completed, we took up the movement January 20, going through Richmond and Petersburg, where we were put aboard cars and transported to Goldsboro, N.C., remaining there a few days. Leaving camp at Goldsboro January 29, we proceeded to Kinston, on the Neuse River, thence through the swamps and bogs, crossing the Trent River to the vicinity of Newbern, N.C., where we made some captures of prisoners and stores, and blew up a Federal gunboat lying in the river, under the forts, which was accomplished by Colonel Wood, with his marines. A section of 3d New York artillery—two guns—was captured, together with several hundred prisoners, among them 35 or more of the 2d Loyal North Carolina regiment, who had been soldiers in our army, deserted, and joined the enemy. These men were recognized and sent back under guard to Kinston.
Our people found Newbern better prepared for defense than was anticipated, and after some strong reconnaissances on all the roads, gathering up all the supplies within reach that could be transported, at dark, February 3, we silently folded our tents and stole away, floundering all night along through the swamps and mud, crossing the Trent a little after dawn. During the night we passed through extensive turpentine orchards, which the men set fire to, and by the light of which many sloughs were avoided. Our movement continued until Kinston was reached, where we rested a few days.
The next day after reaching Kinston the court-martial was convened for the trial of the thirty-five deserters referred to, who had been captured wearing United States uniforms and with guns in their hands, fighting under the flag of the enemy. The guilt of twenty-two of them being fully established, they were sentenced to be hanged; the sentence being approved by the department commander, was carried into execution a few days thereafter in the vicinity of our camp: a gruesome piece of business, which duty did not require me to witness.
About the middle of February we moved on westward to Goldsboro. Rations were still short, and there was some complaint by the farmers of the loss of hogs. This complaint was not without foundation, for fresh pork was found in some of the camps, and the offenders punished, a penalty, as the writer believes, not deserved. Most of these charges were made against the 24th Virginia regiment, one against some of the teamsters of our regiment. A member of Company D was charged with being the informant, though he helped eat the hog, but whether the charge was true or false, the informant made the disclosure in order to get a furlough, which he received, but never came back—deserted. This same informant had been wounded at the second battle of Manassas, and on his return to the command at Goldsboro claimed that he was not able for service, taking up lodgings with some of the teamsters. He wrote a letter to General Lee, which ran about as follows:
"Dear General: I am a member of Company D, 7th Virginia Infantry. I was wounded at the second battle of Manassas and am unfit for duty in the field. I am a pretty fair shoemaker, and if I can be detailed, I am willing to render all the services I can."
"Dear General: I am a member of Company D, 7th Virginia Infantry. I was wounded at the second battle of Manassas and am unfit for duty in the field. I am a pretty fair shoemaker, and if I can be detailed, I am willing to render all the services I can."
General Lee transmitted the letter to the regiment and the men had a good deal of fun out of ——. Soon after he became informant as to hog stealing, got the furlough, and deserted, as above stated—good riddance to bad rubbish.
A member of Company B, 7th regiment, who was under death sentence for desertion, was kept under strict guard with ball and chain. Late one evening an order came for his execution the next day. I carried the order to the officer of the guard, whose instructions were to double the guard and see that their guns were loaded. The condemned man's brother was a member of the guard, who, on ascertaining that his brother was to be shot the next day, requested that I send Rev. J. Tyler Frazier to see him. Frazier happened to be out of the camp; as soon as he returned, I accompanied him to see the man, but he refused to listen to Mr. Frazier; in fact, the man did not believe he would be shot until the next morning when the wagon drove up with his coffin and he was required to ride thereon to the place of execution, where he died from the fire of a platoon of men of his own command.
March 5 we moved by rail to Wilmington, thence by steamer to Smithfield, near the mouth of the Cape Fear River. The 24th regiment was sent to garrison Forts Caswell and Campbell, while we remained in camp near Smithfield.
I find in a letter written by me from Smithfield, March 14, the following: "It has been nine days since our brigade arrived at this place. One regiment, the 24th, has been sent to garrison Forts Caswell and Campbell. I have just returned from a visit to the former. We crossed over in an open boat, the distance being two miles. There was quite a lively time at the forts this morning, when the blockade runner 'Lucy,' in attempting to run in, was beached, the enemy making attempt to capture her, but he was driven off by our batteries."
Lieutenant Thomas S. TaylorLieut. Thomas S. Taylor
Lieut. Thomas S. Taylor
Here oysters were cheap and readily procured, the men cooking them in various ways. Some roasted them in the shell, some ate them raw, and some mixed them in corn dough and baked them. We did not like the coast and longed for our Virginia hills. Under orders we left Smithfield aboard a steamer for Wilmington. The river was full of torpedoes and we were in dread of being blown up. The situation was in some measure relieved by Bill Dean and his Glee Club, who sang: "Oh! Carry Me Back to Old Virginia Once More."
Wilmington was reached Saturday, the 26th, where the ground was covered with a light snow, which increased in depth as we receded from the coast. We moved by rail from Wilmington to Goldsboro, where we went into camp until Friday, the first of April, when the march was again taken up through snow and mud to Tarboro, thence through Greenville, crossing over to the waters of the Roanoke, to the vicinity of Plymouth, N.C., where on the 18th a portion of Hoke's brigade (21st Georgia regiment), assailed late in the evening an outlying fort, in which assault Colonel Mercer was killed and the assault repulsed. Later the same evening this fort was surrounded by a portion of our brigade with a cloud of sharpshooters and artillery, which prevented the garrison from handling their guns, and the fort finally surrendered. The investing force of the town were the brigades of Ransom, Hoke and Terry, formerly Kemper's.
Sergeant William Parrott of Charlottesville and I that night bore a flag of truce to the enemy's lines, under which demand for the surrender of the town was made, but refused. During the night the Confederate iron clad ram "Albemarle" came down the Roanoke River and aided in the assault next morning, when the enemy's works and the town were carried, the garrison surrendering when all hope of successful resistance was gone. Our brigade was moved across the Washington road, whereon the enemy was attempting to escape. In this movement we were brought under the fire of the heavy guns in the forts, which at close range gave us a severe shelling, whereby quite a number of men of the brigade were injured—a few in our regiment—but two in Company D—A. L. Fry and John W. East—slightly wounded. Soon after occupying the road referred to and close up to the enemy's entrenchments, there came at a headlong run up to our line, and before he discovered us, a big, black, burly negro soldier, the first of his kind we had seen. The negro was so badly frightened that had it been possible he would have changed his color.
The fruits of this victory, at comparatively small cost, were the Federal commander, General Wessels, and 1,600 prisoners, besides about 700 negroes, 2,000 small arms, and valuable quartermaster and commissary stores, the capture and sinking of one or more Federal gunboats. From the commissary and sutler's stores the men obtained bountiful supplies of food, underwear, boots and shoes. The Federal loss in this battle, other than prisoners, artillery and stores already mentioned, was 41 killed and 59 wounded. The Confederate loss, 124 killed and 174 wounded. Our enjoyment was but brief, however, for that evening we took the road to Washington, a town at the head of Pamlico Sound, marching rapidly, so that by night we were in the neighborhood of our destination, which early next morning General Hoke was preparing to invest, when it was discovered that the enemy had evacuated it; disgracing themselves and their flag before their departure by arson and pillage.
General Hoke, determined to push his successes, marched immediately upon Newbern, demanding its surrender, which, being refused, he was preparing to carry by assault, when he was directed to hasten to the relief of Petersburg, now threatened by a strong Federal army under General Butler.
At Tarboro, B. L. Hoge was taken sick and sent to hospital, and J. B. Croy had been sent on detached service to the Blackwater region. How many of Company D were on this expedition to Plymouth, Washington and Newbern, I am unable to state, but I know the company had been much reduced in numbers. Lieutenant Stone was still a prisoner at Fort Delaware, Lieutenant Walker, disabled at Gettysburg, had been retired; Captain Bane and Lieutenant Mullins were the only commissioned officers with us.
In May, 1864, the Federal General Butler landed at City Point, on the James, with an army of more than 25,000 men, and feeling his way carefully and slowly toward Petersburg, had on the 9th reached Swift Creek, three miles north of the city. Confronting him was General Pickett, with a small number of Carolina troops, and a few pieces of artillery. Pickett kept his men so well in hand and so maneuvered as to conceal from his adversary his real weakness. In this situation and while the Confederates were far away, near Newbern, with the Federals threatening Richmond and Petersburg, General Hoke, in front of Newbern, received an order to repair with haste to Petersburg. About dark on May 6 we left the front of Newbern, the head of the column directed for Petersburg, about 175 miles away. The 1st Virginia had hastened through to Kinston, where it obtained railroad transportation, which carried it to Jarrett's, twenty miles south of Petersburg. Our column, taking a bee line, moved night and day, having to halt occasionally at the tidewater streams to build bridges out of round logs thrown into the water and fastened together with grapevines. Reaching Stony Creek, twenty miles or more south of Petersburg, we found the railroad bridge destroyed by the Federal cavalry. The situation at Petersburg was so pressing as to demand the presence of the troops without delay. All the rolling stock of every kind of the railroad at that point was rushed to meet us, and we boarded the cars just wherever we met them. By 11 o'clock Thursday, May 12, we were in the city, and General Butler had lost his opportunity. Never before had we done such marching. Mr. D. H. Hill, in his Confederate Military History of North Carolina, page 248, speaking of this march of General Hoke from Newbern to Petersburg, says: "This march of General Hoke's troops stands at West Point as the most rapid movement of troops on record."
Apparently the whole populace, men, women and children, of Petersburg had gathered to welcome us, their deliverers from the presence and hand of General Butler, whose notoriety in New Orleans, Norfolk and Portsmouth had won for him the appellation "Beast Butler," a reputation world-wide. General Butler was, therefore, regarded by these people as a menace to the safety of property and helpless women and children. This is why everybody in Petersburg shouted for joy when we entered the city and marched across the Appomattox to interpose between them and Butler's troops. We went forward to Swift Creek, taking position on the east side of the turnpike road in front of the enemy's skirmishers. The shades of night now having fallen, we lay on our arms, discovering next morning by the advance of our skirmishers that the enemy had withdrawn from our front, whereupon we proceeded along the road leading to Richmond, the rear guard being fired upon as we passed the "Halfway House." Reaching the outer defenses of Dreury's Bluff, our brigade, now commanded by Brigadier-General W. R. Terry, was placed in battle line on the west side of the aforesaid turnpike road, facing south—having by the day's march placed ourselves between the enemy and Richmond.
General Beauregard, in command of the department, arrived on the morning of the 14th, having passed with a cavalry escort entirely around the enemy's left. About noon of the 15th we were moved to an inner line of defenses, which shortened the line to be defended; thus was made necessary by the smallness of our force, for it appears that the Confederates had only 13,000 men with which to meet Butler's 40,000. This Confederate force was divided, two or three brigades remaining at Petersburg under General Whiting. No help could be had from the Army of Northern Virginia, then engaged in desperate struggle at Spottsylvania, with the Federal Army of the Potomac.
It was made known to us on the evening of the 15th that at a council of war held by General Beauregard and his subordinates it had been determined to attack General Butler's army next morning at daylight, and that the division of General Ransom, to which our brigade (Terry's) belonged, was to lead the attack. Late in the day, Sunday, we marched toward the James River to a point overlooking Kingsland Creek, behind which, on the higher ground beyond, the enemy was in line of battle in force, sheltered by temporary log breastworks, a small body of Confederate cavalry guarding the Confederate left. Being supplied with sixty rounds of cartridges, we lay down in a skirt of timber near the old stage road leading from Richmond to Petersburg, a little more than three-fourths of a mile from the enemy's line. We were informed that we should be up at 2 A.M., march forward and open the battle at daylight. Some who had passed unscathed through the ordeal of a dozen battles were to go down in this, among them the gallant boy Walker, of the 11th regiment, who had borne aloft and planted on the enemy's works at Gettysburg the flag of this regiment, having his horse killed under him there and a number of bullets through his clothing.
To fight this battle of Dreury's Bluff was imperative, and to become the assailants was a necessity, for if the enemy should maintain his position then occupied in front of Dreury's Bluff (only seven miles below Richmond) and General Grant continued his flank movement to the James River until he formed a junction with General Butler, the fate of Richmond, and most probably of the Confederacy, would have been decided a year earlier; hence this battle, and the necessity of fighting it successfully, which we did.
During the early part of the night preceding, I visited the artillery company of Captain David A. French, from my county. Captain French was absent that evening, the company under the command of his brave Lieutenant D. W. Mason. Captain French arrived next day during the progress of the battle. Lieutenant Mason led his company in the thickest of the fight, sustaining his already brilliant record as a brave soldier. Promptly at 2 A.M. on Monday, the 16th, we were roused from our slumbers and quickly gotten into line, discarding all baggage—indeed, everything that would make a noise calculated to arouse the enemy. Stealing quietly out of the woods, we proceeded down the old stage road, through a field, across Kingsland Creek, where we halted, forming a line of battle. The Alabama brigade of General Gracie, and the North Carolina brigade of General Hoke, formed the front line, with Generals Terry's and Fry's commands four hundred yards in rear, forming the second line. The assaulting force could not have numbered four thousand men all told. What was in front of us we did not know, being already enveloped by a dense fog. The columns now formed, the brigade of Gracie led off, ours following at close distance. The Federal skirmishers in their rifle pits, alarmed by the commands of our officers, fired rapidly, but at random, as they could not see us on account of the fog; but their fire aroused their main line of battle. The ground over which the attacking column passed was a gradual ascent from the creek bottom for a distance of three hundred yards to the summit, then a slight descent for the same distance to the enemy's battle line, the right of which rested on a swamp rendered almost impenetrable on account of the water, thorns and brambles.
Terry's brigade, only forty or fifty yards in rear of Gracie's, reached the summit almost as soon as Gracie's men, who, as well as ourselves, became immediately exposed to the enemy's fire, which as yet was not effective, for they could not see us, and now as the fire had opened, the smoke therefrom, together with the dense fog, created a darkness in which a man could not be seen a few yards away. General Terry had halted his brigade on the summit, where it was receiving the enemy's fire, now becoming more accurate, causing some of the companies on the right to lie down. Colonel Flowerree, now commanding the 7th Virginia, observing this, called out: "Stand up, men! Don't you see the balls are striking the ground at your feet, and there is greater danger lying down than standing up."
On our immediate right was Barton's brigade, commanded by Colonel Fry. A part of Gracie's men had gotten close to the enemy's line, meeting such stubborn resistance that they lay down and our brigade was ordered forward. Now was the supreme moment. Such a deafening rebel yell! It must have given every Yankee in the region roundabout a cold chill, for to this day they say that hideous rebel yell was dreaded more than bullets. Here on this summit we had stood in awful suspense for twenty minutes or more, exposed to the enemy's fire. It was therefore a positive relief to hear the word: "Forward!" And forward we went, through fog, smoke and leaden hail. At each volley delivered by the enemy, down went numbers of our men, and as yet not a man in our brigade had fired a shot, anxious at least to see something to shoot at, and to get to closer quarters.
The 7th Virginia held the left of the brigade line, overlapping by three or more companies the left of Gracie's line. These companies in the headlong rush saw nothing of Gracie's men, who had halted and laid down. Now near the enemy's firing line, unable to get forward on account of the swamp referred to, Captain Parr, Adjutant, took these three companies by a double quick to a position on the right wing, but before this could be accomplished the regiment had broken the enemy's line—that of a New Jersey regiment of Heckman's brigade—and crossed his breastworks, making a right wheel, uniting with the companies led by Captain Parr, and struck the flank of the 27th Massachusetts regiment, capturing its Colonel (Lee), together with its colors, a large number of prisoners, including General Heckman, the brigade commander, who was captured by Sergeant Blakey of F Company, who surrendered his sword to Colonel Flowerree of our regiment. This incident was witnessed by the writer. This wheel and attack upon the enemy's flank and rear had relieved the pressure on the 1st, 11th and 24th regiments, which for some minutes before were engaged in a hand-to-hand contest with the enemy behind their breastworks; indeed, so close had they gotten that the men did not take time to return ramrods to their thimbles, but ran down the cartridges, fired away, filling the logs of the breastworks and trees with the ramrods. This may be thought a fish story, but it is absolutely true. French's Giles County battery of four guns already mentioned was on the field just to our right and in the hottest of the battle, suffering loss in making a brave fight.
The loss in the 1st, 11th and 24th regiments of our brigade had been severe in officers and men—some companies losing nearly half their number in killed and wounded. The color sergeant of the 11th regiment had a bayonet fixed to the point of his color staff, which he used with effect upon the enemy at the breastworks. The brigade continued its flank movement along the rear of the enemy's position until it had cleared the whole of its original front, and had gained a position looking back towards Kingsland Creek, where it halted and faced about, taking possession of the enemy's log breastworks and fronting the enemy. A short lull now followed, during which an Irish Sergeant of the 1st regiment came to me talking with J. Tyler Frazier, and presented me with a fine black felt hat, lost by some Federal officer in his hurry to get away, about which hat the sequel will appear later. In a few minutes the enemy on our right flank was upon us, and before action could be taken to meet them, fired a volley enfilading our line, but thanks to their bad aim and the fact that the men were mostly lying down, nobody was hurt; however, in making left wheel to meet this assault, four men were injured; among them I recall Sergeant Carpenter of Company A, a gallant soldier, was killed; Sergeant Fry of D Company in the melee fell—he may have stumped his toe. The Confederate troops on our right struck the flank of the enemy, who had flanked us, and repulsed their attack, and with this the battle virtually ended. Butler was retreating and getting away—a thing he was good at. He had had enough and was willing to quit. He retired behind his intrenched line at Bermuda Hundred, where the Confederates "bottled him up."
The Federal casualties in this battle were 422 killed, 2380 wounded, of which 1388 were made prisoners, together with five stand of colors, of which four of the colors and 400 of the prisoners were taken by our brigade, and five field guns were captured. The Confederate casualties were 514 killed, 1086 wounded. In Terry's brigade the losses were as follows:
The brave Colonel Maury and Major Hambrick of the 24th were wounded, the former severely when within a few feet of the enemy's line, the latter mortally. Company D of the 7th regiment lost John W. East, and John S. Dudley, slightly wounded. The losses in the 7th regiment were less on account of its being less exposed in its flank movement on the enemy's right and rear.
The Confederate troops remained on the battle field that night, burying the dead and caring for the wounded. Early next morning we started in pursuit of the enemy, whom we followed on this and the next day to the Howlett house on the James, where the Confederates had some unfinished earthworks. Reaching the edge of an open field on which the earthworks were located, I was directed to go forward to the works to see what or who was there, and finding the trenches entirely abandoned, I waived my cap, when the 1st and 7th regiments speedily came up and took possession. Here they suffered eleven hours from an unmerciful shelling from a number of Federal gunboats in the river. Several men of the two regiments were killed or injured. Lieutenant John W. Mullins of Company D, in command of the skirmish line, was dangerously wounded in the breast, dying on the 22d of June following. He was a bright and brave young man. Major Howard and Sergeant Tom Fox of the regiment were badly hurt. Withdrawing the evening of the 19th, we went into camp a short distance from the Clay house.
May 20 the brigade marched into Richmond, each of the regiments bearing one of the captured flags taken in the engagement of Dreury's Bluff. In the evening a portion of the command was placed on flat cars and transported to Milford station, on the R.F. and P. railroad, a few miles south of Fredericksburg, where on the next morning we were attacked by the advance of General Grant's army, Torbett's cavalry. The portion of our brigade present now numbered less than 500 men, commanded by Major George F. Norton of the 1st regiment, with Sergeant Major J. R. Pollock acting Assistant Adjutant General. After a spirited contest of more than an hour, in which the repeated charges of the Federal cavalry were repulsed, Major Norton ordered the men to retire, and they withdrew across the river, the Mattapony, Captain Parr and I dismantling the bridge by throwing the planks from the center into the river, thus preventing immediate pursuit by the Federal cavalry. The tough resistance given the Federal advance, together with the story of Tom Yowell of the 7th regiment, given below, caused the Federal General Hancock to halt his command, throw up intrenchments and prepare for an attack. This halt gave General Lee time to reach Hanover Junction in advance of the enemy.
A correspondent of a Northern newspaper with the Union army reported on May 22, "The army under Hancock arrived at Milford yesterday and met a force of the enemy said to be 13,000 strong, drove them through the town and pursued them some distance." The only Confederate troops Hancock met were the 500 above mentioned, and there were no others within several miles.
Tom Yowell had been captured on the skirmish line and was taken to General Hancock, who inquired to what command he belonged. Yowell with much bravado told him we had given Butler the devil a few days before, and that our brigade was the advance of General Lee's army from Spottsylvania, and pointing south to a large white house a mile or more away, said, "That is General Lee's headquarters." Yowell told his story with so much apparent frankness that General Hancock believed it. The Confederate loss in this affair was 70 men, mostly of the 11th regiment, captured, some of whom were wounded. These were cut off from the bridge by the rapid advance of the enemy, some of whom, with those who were cut off, escaped by swimming the river.
Our force joined the main army en route from Spottsylvania to Hanover Junction. Here we were also joined by a portion of Breckenridge's small division from the valley, where a little more than a week before it had defeated the Federal army under General Sigel. On this rapid march from Milford to Hanover Junction, John A. Hale of Company D was unable to keep up and to prevent capture took to the woods, following the line of march, keeping the general direction. Going to a private house for food, he found a Union soldier there on the same errand, whom he captured and brought into our lines.
Held in reserve, we had little or nothing to do with the fighting at the North Anna. On May 27 we made an all day march in the rain, going into camp near Atlee's station. In the evening of the following day a march was made twelve miles in the direction of Hanovertown, camping three miles north of Mechanicsville, following General Grant around the circle. On the evening of the 30th we reached our position in battle line near Cold Harbor, being assigned a place on the left of Law's Alabama brigade and Hoke's division.
At 4 o'clock, June 2, the battle of Cold Harbor began on our right, raging furiously until sunset. By means of an improvised telegraphy, information was received that the enemy had been repulsed. This improvised telegraphy was nothing more than passing word from man to man and on this occasion came, "Pass it along the lines that we have whipped the enemy on the right." Early on the morning of the 3d the battle of Cold Harbor was resumed, Hoke's, Breckenridge's and part of Anderson's divisions being engaged on the right. When the battle ended, we were informed by the same telegraphic line that the enemy had been defeated. On our front had been nothing more than artillery fire, with severe skirmishing. However, as the battle progressed, our division was ordered to be ready to attack the enemy in front, and we were very well satisfied when the order was revoked.
In Breckenridge's division, heavily engaged on the 3d, I had a schoolmate, Lieutenant James K. Peck, of whom I was fond, and for whose safety I was anxious. I was greatly distressed on learning a few days afterwards that he was killed on the 3d.
The Federal casualties in the battle at Cold Harbor were over 10,000; the Confederate 1500. I find no report of casualties in our division, brigade or regiment; no casualties in Company D.
I had the opportunity to look at a portion of the battlefield in front of the position held by General Hoke's division on the 3d. During the war I never saw so many dead Union soldiers on any field. General Hoke's division had not a man killed. The weather was oppressively hot. The blood, burnt powder, and dead bodies produced a stench which cannot be described, and not to be endured long by the living.
General Grant was again moving, not toward Richmond, but away from it, toward the James river; we following, ten days after the battle, crossing to the south side of the Chickahominy, keeping between the Federal army and Richmond, and this tramp watching the movement of General Grant was kept up until the vicinity of Malvern Hill was reached.
I cannot well help breaking the thread of my narrative to tell a little humorous camp story prevalent among our men just after the battle of Cold Harbor. It was claimed to have been told by a Union soldier to some of our men. It ran thus: A private Union soldier who had been in the battle and saw the terrific slaughter, said to his captain, "We have killed and had killed enough men and the war should end, and I know what will end it." The captain inquired, "What?" "Take Richmond," was the response. "Yes," said the captain, "that is what General Grant is trying to do." The soldier insisting that he knew how Richmond could be taken, and the captain pressing him to know, he replied: "Swap Generals!"
June 15 Pickett's division marched from the vicinity of Malvern Hill up the James, crossing the river the morning of June 16, on a bridge near Dreury's Bluff, then passing over the battlefield of that name, which battle we had fought one month before, reaching the Petersburg turnpike. When near Port Walthall Junction, the head of the column was fired upon by the enemy, who had possession of the road. The division was immediately formed in line of battle on the turnpike, sending out skirmishers, driving the enemy and regaining our first line of works, which had been vacated that morning by the troops having been called to Petersburg. The next day commenced heavy skirmish firing. Company D was on the skirmish line the day before capturing some prisoners, among them an Englishman, who came back saying rather excitedly that he was forced into the army, which nobody believed, for the armies of the enemy were to a considerable extent made up of foreigners. It was often remarked by our men that we were fighting all Yankeedom and the rest of mankind. And this reminds me of the story told by a Confederate of another who like himself had in the battle of the third day at Gettysburg gone over the enemy's line behind the stone fence, reaching a point almost on the crest of Cemetery Ridge. Seeing the mighty host gathered and gathering to envelop the few rebels left, this Confederate cried out, "Do we have to whip the world?" Listening for a moment, he heard a Federal officer say: "Attention, World! By nations right wheel, by states, fire!" He concluded it was time for that poor Confederate to cut dirt, and he stood not on the order of his going.
Let it be remembered that we were now engaged in what is known as the battle of Clay's House. One of our batteries to our left was now throwing shells at the enemy in our front, endeavoring to enfilade their line, during which time I was ordered by Colonel Flowerree to go along the line of the regiment and tell the company commanders to get their men ready for the assault. I had proceeded nearly half way when a misdirected shell from the battery referred to exploded over me, a large fragment grazing my head, burying itself at my feet. Had it struck my head, there would have been one less Sergeant-Major in the Confederate army, and this story would not have been written. A moment later I saw J. B. Young of D Company fall with a severe wound in the head. In a few moments the charge became general, and the enemy's intrenchments were carried. General Lee was riding close in the rear of our battle line at the time of the charge referred to, and meeting one of our regiment badly wounded and being carried out by the litter bearers, said to the wounded man, "I hope, my good fellow, you are not badly hurt."
This charge was the subject of a complimentary letter from General Lee to General Anderson, which is as follows: