A Narrative of Service with the Third Wisconsin Infantry Part 2

_The Army retreats Northward_

We remained at Culpeper until August 18, when we were aroused at midnight and started on the road to the Rappahannock. We crossed over on the next day and went into camp about half a mile from the river. During all that day and night the army of General Pope was streaming across the Rappahannock to the north side, only a portion of his cavalry still remaining to the south. There was a great deal of speculation among the men as to the reason for this unexpected retrograde movement. It was rumored that General McClellan had been compelled to withdraw his army from the Peninsula, and that General Lee, released from the defence of Richmond, was marching our way. For once, rumor was correct. It was not many days before the whole of Lee's army was hunting to find an unguarded point at which to cross the river.

About noon on the day after our crossing, I was watching the movements of some of our cavalry who still remained on the other side of the river. I was standing on the top of one of the highest knolls in the vicinity, from which I had a splendid view of the country for a long distance southward. For nearly two miles the land was clear of timber or fences or any obstacle which could impede the movements of cavalry.

Observing that our cavalry seemed to be coming back at rather a livelier pace than usual, I noticed what appeared to be either a large regiment or a small brigade of Confederate cavalry emerge from the woods to the south of the plain. They formed their lines and moved to the attack.

Our men, also, were soon in motion. As they approached each other the two bodies increased their pace, until both seemed to be moving at full speed. They met with a jar, and for some moments it was impossible to distinguish friend from foe. There could only be distinctly seen the flashing of sabres in the sunlight as blows were struck and parried, and the puffs of smoke from revolvers and carbines. For ten minutes or more the stirring fight went on without any apparent advantage to either side. But now another regiment of our cavalry, which had been out of sight up the river at the beginning of the fight, came down upon the Confederates at a hard gallop. It was but a minute before the latter were retreating back to the timber, perhaps hurried a little by a few sh.e.l.ls from one of our sh.o.r.e batteries. A little later, I learned that our cavalry had taken about sixty prisoners.

On the night of August 22 the enemy were expected to make an attempt to cross the Rappahannock at Beverly Ford, where I was stationed on picket duty. During the night, however, the river rose almost ten feet as the result of heavy rains in the mountains. By morning, it was so raging a torrent that crossing was impossible. As soon as it was light, the enemy opened fire on us with fourteen pieces of artillery. I had already withdrawn my men from the river bank and stationed them where they could pour a heavy fire upon the Confederates, should they attempt to lay a bridge. I was therefore in a good position to watch at leisure the artillery duel which ensued. For two hours the shot flew back and forth across the stream, without, however, great damage to our side. At the end of that time the Confederates apparently had had enough and withdrew from their position.

The succeeding days were pa.s.sed in hard marching, with hot weather, no tents or blankets, short rations, and a poor country to forage in. The enemy occasionally made demonstration as though to cross at the fords of the Rappahannock, but all the while moving up toward the mountains. On the evening of August 27, while we were in camp near Warrenton Junction, rumors began to circulate that they had appeared in large force at Mana.s.sas Junction, and were threatening to cut off our retreat to Washington. The next morning we were called out at three o'clock, and soon after were on the road to the Junction. The corps of Generals Heintzelman and Fitz-John Porter, which had been marching toward Warrenton, had also been turned back and were directly in our advance.

We marched rapidly to Kettle River, a small stream about five miles from the Junction, where we were detailed to guard a train of ninety cars loaded with ammunition and provisions for our army. Here we learned that the enemy had on the previous day captured and destroyed at the Junction over a hundred and fifty cars loaded with supplies, but had in the morning encountered Hooker's advance division near Kettle Run, and had been driven with considerable loss beyond the Junction. We found on our arrival at Kettle Run, tangible evidence of the morning's fight, for a good many of the dead were still lying around.

Cannonading commenced early on the morning after our arrival, in the direction of Mana.s.sas, and continued all day. It was evident that a severe battle was in progress. Reports of our successes were continually coming in; we appeared to be driving the enemy at all points. It was said that the Confederates were surrounded on three sides, and hopes were strong that they would be captured before the main body of their army came up. The next morning, the battle was still in progress although it seemed to be farther away than it had been before. The most encouraging reports continued to reach us, and at night General Pope was credited with having said that our troops had won a complete victory.

While the battle was in progress, we had been occupied in rebuilding the bridge across Kettle Run, which the enemy had destroyed on the first day of their raid. We had it completed, and our train of cars moved across to Bristoe Station by the morning of the second day of the battle. We bivouacked that night north of Broad Run, happy in the thought that our troops had indeed vanquished the foe.

The next morning we were ordered to return to Bristoe. As we approached the station, dense clouds of smoke were rolling upwards from the place where we had left our cars. This gave us notice that the reports of victory had been false. The fact was, that the left wing of Pope's army had been driven back the night before, and it had been necessary to burn the cars in order to prevent their falling into the hands of the enemy.

It had been possible to save only the supplies with which they were loaded. Our Corps, moreover, having received no notice of the reverse, was now in grave danger of being cut off from the remainder of the army.

We managed, however, by rapid marching over a circuitous route to reach the north side of Bull Run in safety.

The next day we marched to a short distance beyond Centerville. Here we were halted, and stood in the road on our arms during a driving rain, while the battle of Chantilly was being fought only a short distance to the north. We remained standing in the road--or at least were supposed to be standing--all that night, the rain pouring down in torrents most of the time. After darkness had set in, however, the men quietly began to disappear into the neighboring woods, and soon I alone of all my Company was actually standing in the road. I was not greatly troubled over the breach of orders, for I knew that at the first intimation of danger every man would be in his place. I too found for myself as dry a place as possible, and wrapping my rubber coat about me, tried to secure a s.n.a.t.c.h of much-needed sleep. But I soon awoke so thoroughly wet and cold that further slumber was out of the question. I thereupon sought a fire that some soldiers had built, and endeavored to extract a bit of comfort from its friendly heat. Just as I was beginning to feel its warmth, a number of staff officers came along and ordered the blaze extinguished, for, said they, it was against the orders of General Banks. I stepped back into the darkness so as not to be recognized, concluding that if General Banks wanted that fire put out, he would get no help from me. The men standing near, however, kicked the burning brands apart as though to put it out, and the officers pa.s.sed on. But they were not fifty feet away before the fire had been rekindled and was again dispensing cheer. This scene was repeated at frequent intervals until daylight, the fire continuing to burn in spite of all orders.

That morning we took the road about nine, and marched until midnight. On the morning after, we found that we were within the fortifications of Alexandria. Two days later we crossed the Potomac at Georgetown, and went into camp at Tennalleytown, D. C. Our wagons and camp equipage had preceded us. A mail also was awaiting us, the first that we had received since leaving Culpeper Court House.

We now had leisure to reflect upon our situation. It was indeed humiliating. Here we were, after six months of campaigning, back again at the point where we had started. The Grand Army of the Potomac forced to seek the shelter of the fortifications of Washington! The actual fighting had usually been in our favor. Why was it, then, that we had been forced back? We believed that the answer lay entirely in the fact that we had been outgeneralled. We felt that Pope and McDowell were the Jonahs who should go overboard. And overboard they went, not to be heard of again during the war. The reappointment of McClellan to command was everywhere received with pleasure. So far as my acquaintance went, the feeling was unanimous in his favor.

For several days we remained in camp enjoying the luxury of tents and beds after our strenuous experiences on the march. New regiments were in the meantime a.s.signed to the old brigades. Ours received the Thirteenth New Jersey and the One Hundred Seventh New York, with a new corps commander in the person of General Mansfield.

_Moving Toward the Enemy_

On September 5 it was definitely rumored in camp that the enemy had crossed into Maryland by way of Edward's Ferry. All of the Army of the Potomac were soon after moving up the river toward Darnestown, where a defensive position was taken and the enemy's movements awaited. There were no further developments until the 10th, when an order came from General McClellan to store in Washington all of the officers' baggage and the company tents and property, and turn over the teams to be used in hauling provisions and ammunition. This looked more like business than anything we had yet seen.

The next morning we began to move in earnest, pa.s.sing through Darnestown, and on toward Frederick City. On the 12th we made a long march to Ijamsville, where we heard from one party of citizens that the enemy were evacuating Frederick City, and from another that they were preparing to fight us at the crossing of the Monocacy River. In the morning, we were early on the road, marching rapidly to the ford of the Monocacy, and crossing without trouble. As we approached Frederick, we could hear the firing of the advance of Burnside's Corps, as they were driving the rear guard of the retreating enemy from the pa.s.ses of the Catoctin Mountains, about five miles west of the city. Over 800 prisoners were sent back that day, mostly stragglers and deserters, who had soldiered as long as they wished.

That night we camped near Frederick City, a large portion of our Regiment taking advantage of the opportunity to visit old friends and acquaintances in that place. We had been there so long during the past year that it seemed to us almost like home. The Confederates had been in possession for nearly a week, and many stories were told of the good people who had displayed their loyalty under adverse circ.u.mstances. The real heroine of the town was old Barbara Fritchie, who had kept a Union flag waving from her window during all the time of the Confederate occupation. Her name has been immortalized by Whittier. I know that in recent years it has been said that no such person ever lived, and that the flag was not displayed. But I heard the story told within twenty-four hours after the Confederate army had left Frederick, from persons who knew the circ.u.mstances, and I am going to believe it until there is more positive proof than I have yet seen, that it is not true.

_Battle of South Mountain_

We were ready to march by four o'clock on the morning of the 14th. But we might as well have stayed in camp until seven. The road west from Frederick was a fine, broad turnpike, wide enough for two or three wagons abreast, but it was now completely choked with the ammunition and provision wagons of the troops in advance. Even after we did finally get started, and were clear of the town, we had to march through the fields and woods on either side of the road.

When we reached the top of the Catoctin Mountains, we could hear the sound of artillery and musketry fire on the next mountain ridge beyond.

Occasionally we could even catch a glimpse of the lines of our troops as they moved up the slopes to a.s.sault the position of the enemy. We were now rapidly marched down the mountain and turned off by a circuitous route to the right, in order to strike the enemy on the left flank.

Before we could reach their position, however, it had already been carried by a.s.sault, and the enemy had taken advantage of the darkness to make good their retreat. Such was the battle of South Mountain.

We now countermarched to the turnpike near Middletown, where we went into camp at one o'clock in the morning. We had been on the road for twenty-two consecutive hours, most of the time climbing over rocks and through brush on the mountain side. Again we were on the march, at eight o'clock the next morning, crossing South Mountain as we had crossed the Catoctin Mountains, with the wagon train occupying the road and the troops in the woods along the side. We pa.s.sed through Boonsborough in the afternoon, and by night had reached nearly to Keedysville.

The road was strewn with the muskets and other accoutrements of the enemy fleeing from South Mountain, together with a great deal of plunder that they had gathered in Maryland. There was every indication that they had retreated in a state of demoralization. The houses in Boonsborough and the vicinity were filled with their wounded, and we were constantly meeting squads of from twenty to one hundred prisoners who were being sent back from the front. Occasional artillery firing in the front seemed to indicate that we were being waited for not far ahead.

_Battle of Antietam_

On the morning of the 16th we moved forward to a position behind a range of low hills near Antietam Creek, and there we remained until night, undisturbed save by occasional shots from the enemy's batteries, posted in the hills on the opposite side of the creek. The remainder of our army kept coming up all day, taking position as they arrived, until at night it was understood that they were all at hand with the exception of Franklin's Corps, which had gone to the relief of Harpers Ferry. At about nine o'clock we were called up and moved across Antietam Creek, close to the enemy's lines, where we lay down to secure such rest as we might in preparation for the next day's fight. General Hooker's Corps lay in position, just in front of us.

It was reported that night that Harpers Ferry had been surrendered by Colonel Miles without a struggle, and when the relieving force of General Franklin was within three miles. It was rumored also that Miles had been shot by the men of his own command when they learned that they had been surrendered.

We were awakened soon after daylight by the sound of heavy cannonading in the front. It had been raining during the night, but now the sky was clear and the sun shining. The men hurried into the ranks, and the Corps formed in close column by companies. We moved a short distance to the right, then sat down to await developments. As battery after battery came into action, the artillery firing continually increased in rapidity, until for a few minutes the roar would be continuous. Then there would be a lull, and the sharp crack of the musketry would be heard, as the skirmishers pushed forward through the timber. Now the scattering musketry fire increased into crashing volleys; as more and more troops became engaged, the volleys developed into one continuous roar, like the roll of distant thunder.

Within a few minutes we became aware by sight, as well as by sound, that a b.l.o.o.d.y battle was in progress; a constant stream of wounded men was coming back to the field hospital in the rear. Many were but slightly wounded and still clung to their muskets as they hurried back to have their wounds dressed. They would stop on their way, for a moment, hastily to tell how they were "driving the Johnnies" in the front.

Others, more seriously hurt, were being helped along by comrades; while others, still more unfortunate, lay silent on stretchers as they were borne back by ambulance men and musicians. Soon, a number of ammunition wagons which had ventured too close to the front, came dashing by us to seek shelter behind a neighboring hill. They were followed shortly after by a dismounted cannon being dragged back for repairs. Now came a temporary lull in the musketry. The thunder of the artillery increased as if in compensation; but rising above all came the cheers of our comrades in the front, announcing that the opening engagement had ended in victory.

The pause in the musketry was of short duration. The enemy, largely reenforced, soon attacked in their turn, making desperate efforts to regain the ground that they had lost. Upon our side, more troops to the right and left came into action, and the battle was soon raging again with redoubled fury. The enemy in our immediate front seemed to have largely increased their artillery, and scattering shot and sh.e.l.l were dropping around us.

At length our First Brigade was sent into action. We soon followed, at double-quick, in close column by companies. Pa.s.sing rapidly through the woods, we emerged upon the field a little northeast of the old Dunkard church, and our Regiment deployed in line. The manoeuvre was executed as though we had been on a parade ground instead of a battle-field. I have seldom seen it better done.

Immediately on our right and about one hundred yards to the front, was posted one of our batteries of twelve-pound bra.s.s guns. It had evidently been in action for some time. All of its horses were killed or crippled, and the gunners were just falling back before the advancing Confederate line of battle. To the left of the battery, and stretching off to the woods directly in our front, stood the remnants of a brigade, still stubbornly contesting the advance of the enemy's infantry. Our Regiment moved forward to the battery, the artillerymen at the same time returning to their guns. The Second Ma.s.sachusetts took position to the right; the Twenty-Seventh Indiana came up on the left.

The Confederate infantry moved steadily across the corn-field, while the decimated brigade in its path fell back, step by step. We were obliged to wait before commencing fire, until they could be moved out of the way. Then we opened fire from one end of the line to the other. The enemy were handicapped by the fact that they were moving diagonally across our front, instead of directly toward us, and our fire was terribly severe, so it was not long before they broke and ran back to the woods. Immediately, however, another line was coming up, this time confronting us squarely. And now commenced the work in earnest.

Our position was in a stubble-field. The ground in front of us sloped gently downward, so that we were fifteen or twenty feet higher than the enemy. About a hundred yards in our front was a rail fence, beyond which lay another open field. The previous day, that field had contained a luxuriant growth of ripening corn; now it was cut by bullets and trampled by men and horses, until scarce a vestige of the crop remained.

For a time, the enemy came on rapidly, without firing a shot. Their right, like our left, was "in the air" and about even with us. They were as gallant fellows as ever moved to an a.s.sault. One could but admire the steady courage with which they approached us; great gaps being made in their lines at every discharge of our grape- and canister-laden twelve-pounders, and our bullets also wore them away at every step. A portion of these stern fighters reached the fence; none came farther.

They there stopped and opened fire on our lines. From our higher ground we could see the steady stream of their wounded being helped to the rear. Still they held on, returning fire for fire; and we too were suffering terribly. At length the Confederates had been reduced to a mere handful; it was hopeless to hold on any longer, and they fell back toward the woods. But before they had reached there, another of their brigades was coming up behind them. The newcomers, however, halted and opened fire at nearly double the distance that their predecessors had taken. Soon they also began to waver, then suddenly broke, and joined their comrades in the flight to the woods.

As they all disappeared toward the timber, General Hooker rode up and ordered us to fix bayonets and pursue. With a whoop and hurrah our Regiment and the Twenty-Seventh Indiana started down through the corn-field, General Hooker himself leading like a captain. It was such traits as this that made him popular, even with those who did not think him fit for high command. We had pa.s.sed fairly into the corn-field, which was literally strewn with the dead bodies of Confederates, when a staff officer rode up, and ordered us to get out of the way, for General Sumner wished to put in a division at that point. This was all that prevented us from a.s.saulting a position with about a hundred and fifty men, which a few minutes later Sedgwick's Division, with five or six thousand, failed to carry.

We moved back out of the corn-field to our old position, and immediately after Sedgwick's Division came in from the northeast. As they moved forward in perfect line to the attack, they presented a splendid sight, even to old soldiers, and we had little doubt that they would sweep everything before them. They marched in three parallel lines, one behind the other, and about seventy-five yards apart. The brigade and field officers, aware of the peculiar danger of being on horseback in such a place, all marched with their men on foot. The only mounted officer in the entire division was old General Sumner himself, who rode a little in the rear of his first line. He was then nearly seventy years of age, perfectly grey but still proudly erect. As he stretched his tall form to its full height on his horse, in order to see what might be in front of his men, he was the most conspicuous object on the field, and undoubtedly was the target for every Confederate sharpshooter in sight.

No resistance of consequence was met until the advance brigade was out of sight in the woods, and the Second Brigade was just at the edge. Then a heavy musketry fire showed that the enemy had reformed their lines and were making a stubborn fight. Their artillery also now opened fire, and sh.e.l.ls and round shot began to fall in our neighborhood. It soon became evident to us, who were spectators of the fight, that General Sumner's formation had been a serious mistake. His second and third brigades were exposed to a heavy fire from the enemy, yet they could not reply on account of the line in front of them. They soon broke up in confusion, therefore, and fell back out of range. The leading brigade held on for over half an hour, to the position that it had gained in the woods, when it also fell back, with but a small portion of the magnificent line which a short time before had so gallantly gone forward to the attack.

The remnant of our Regiment, together with portions of several other like commands, were now stationed at the edge of the woods behind a battery of artillery. There was little more active fighting, however, in that part of the field during the remainder of the day. At one time the enemy made an attempt to recover the lost ground in the corn-field, but the batteries easily drove them back to the woods. Soon after twelve o'clock we were relieved by fresh troops and moved a short distance to the rear. With the friendly aid of a rail fence we now built a fire, and prepared our dinner of hardtack and coffee, and remained quiet for the rest of the day. To the left the firing continued until late in the afternoon.

Many of our gallant boys laid down their lives that b.l.o.o.d.y day on the battle-field of Antietam. In the morning, our Regiment had taken into the fight twelve officers and not quite 300 enlisted men. The number was thus small because our wounded from Cedar Mountain had not yet rejoined us, and hard marching had sent others to the hospital. Of the twelve officers, we lost one killed and seven severely wounded. The Colonel had been hit in the head by a bullet, which had cut just deep enough to draw blood; while I had received a severe bruise from a spent ball. Of our 300 privates, we lost 194 in killed and wounded. The Twenty-Seventh Indiana on our left, had lost about half of its men; the Second Ma.s.sachusetts on the right, had suffered in about the same proportion.

In my Company, of the thirty men whom I took into the field, two had been killed, two mortally wounded, and sixteen so severely hurt, that they were ordered to the hospital. Of all that Company, only one had escaped without the mark of a bullet upon his person or his clothes.

Every one of our color-guard, composed of a corporal from each company, had been shot down before the battle was over. As its bearers fell, the flag had been pa.s.sed along the line until it had come into the hands of one of my privates, Joseph Collins, who carried it the remainder of the day. The color-bearers of the enemy had been even more unfortunate. On our charge into the corn-field, our men picked up several of their banners that had fallen with their bearers.