Nurse and Spy in the Union Army Part 16

In consequence of one of General H.'s staff officers being ill I have volunteered to take his place, and am now aide-de-camp to General H. I wish my friends could see me in my present uniform! This division will probably charge on the enemy's works this afternoon. G.o.d grant them success! While I write the roar of cannon and musketry is almost deafening, and the shot and sh.e.l.l are falling fast on all sides. This may be my last entry in this journal. G.o.d's will be done. I commit myself to Him, soul and body. I must close. General H. has mounted his horse, and says Come--!

Of course it is not for me to say whose fault it was in sacrificing those thousands of n.o.ble lives which fell upon that disastrous field, or in charging again and again upon those terrible stone walls and fortifications, after being repulsed every time with more than half their number lying on the ground. The brave men, nothing daunted by their thinned ranks, advanced more fiercely on the foe--

Plunged in the battery's smoke, Fiercely the line they broke; Strong was the saber stroke, Making an army reel.

But when it was proved to a demonstration that it was morally impossible to take and retain those heights, in consequence of the natural advantage of position which the rebels occupied, and still would occupy if they should fall back--whose fault was it that the attempt was made time after time, until the field was literally piled with dead and ran red with blood? We may truly say of the brave soldiers thus sacrificed--

Their's not to reason why, Their's not to make reply, Their's but to do and die.

Among the many who fell in that dreadful battle perhaps there is none more worthy of notice than the brave and heroic Major Edward E. Sturtevant, of Keene, New Hampshire, who fell while leading the gallant Fifth in a charge upon the enemy. He was the first man in New Hampshire who enlisted _for the war_. He was immediately authorized by the Governor to make enlistments for the First New Hampshire Volunteers, and was eminently successful. He held the commission of captain in the First Regiment, and afterwards was promoted major of the Fifth.

One of the leading papers of his native State has the following with regard to him: "He was in every battle where the regiment was engaged, nine or ten in number, besides skirmishes, and was slightly wounded at the battle of Fair Oaks. He commanded the regiment most of the time on the retreat from the Chickahominy to James river. The filial affection of the deceased was of the strongest character, and made manifest in substantial ways on many occasions. His death is the first in the household, and deep is the grief that is experienced there; but that grief will doubtless be mitigated by the consoling circ.u.mstance that the departed son and brother died in a service that will hallow his memory forever. A braver man or more faithful friend never yielded up his spirit amidst the clash of arms and the wail of the dying."

I well remember the desperate charge which that brave officer made upon the enemy just before he fell, and the thinned and bleeding ranks of his men as they returned, leaving their beloved commander on the field, reminded me of the "gallant six hundred," of whom Tennyson has written the following lines:

Stormed at with shot and sh.e.l.l, They that had struck so well Rode through the jaws of death, Half a league back again Up, from the mouth of h.e.l.l-- All that was left of them.

I have since had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with the bereaved family of the deceased, and deeply sympathize with them in the loss of one so n.o.ble, kind, and brave.

Major Sturtevant was the son of George W. Sturtevant, Esq., and nephew of Rev. David. Kilburn--one of the pioneers of Methodism--whom thousands will remember as a faithful and efficient minister of the Gospel.

During the progress of that battle I saw many strange sights--although I had been in many a fierce battle before. I never saw, till then, a man deliberately shoot himself, with his own pistol, in order to save the rebels the satisfaction of doing so, as it would seem.

As one brigade was ordered into line of battle, I saw an officer take out his pistol and shoot himself through the side--not mortally, I am sorry to say, but just sufficient to unfit him for duty; so he was carried to the rear--he protesting that it was done by accident.

Another officer I saw there, a young and handsome lieutenant, disgrace his shoulder-straps by showing the white feather at the very moment when he was most needed.

I rode three miles with General H. to General Franklin's headquarters, the second night we were at Fredericksburg, and of all the nights that I can recall to mind that was the darkest. On our way we had numerous ditches to leap, various ravines to cross, and mountains to climb, which can be better imagined than described. It was not only once or twice that horse and rider went tumbling into chasms head first, but frequently.

As we pa.s.sed along, we stopped at the headquarters of General Bayard (General of Cavalry) a few minutes--found him enjoying a cup of coffee under a large tree, which const.i.tuted his headquarters. We called again when we returned, but he was cold in death, having been struck by a stray shot, and died in a short time. He was killed just where we had left him, under the tree. He was a splendid officer, and his removal was a great loss to the Federal cause. His death cast a gloom over his whole command which was deeply felt.

Of the wounded of this battle I can say but little, for my time was fully occupied in the responsible duties which I had volunteered to perform; and so constantly was I employed, that I was not out of the saddle but once in twelve hours, and that was to a.s.sist an officer of the Seventy-ninth, who lay writhing in agony on the field, having been seized with cramps and spasms, and was suffering the most extreme pain. He was one of the brave and fearless ones, however, and in less than an hour, after having taken some powerful medicine which I procured for him, he was again on his horse, at the general's side.

On going to the Church hospital in search of Doctor E., I saw an immense sh.e.l.l which had been sent through the building and fell on the floor, in the centre of those wounded and dying men who had just been carried off the field, and placed there for safety. But strange to say, it did not burst or injure any one, and was carried out and laid beside the mangled limbs which had been amputated in consequence of contact with just such instruments of death. I saw the remains of the Rev. A. B. Fuller, Chaplain of the Sixteenth Ma.s.sachusetts, as they were removed to the camp. He was faithful to his trust, and died at his post.

On one of my necessary rides, in the darkness of that dreadful night, I pa.s.sed by a grave-yard near by where our reserves were lying--and there, in that hour of darkness and danger, I heard the voice of prayer ascend. A group of soldiers were there holding communion with G.o.d--strengthening their souls for the coming conflict. There are, scattered over the battle-fields and camping-grounds of this war, Bethels, consecrated to G.o.d, and sacred to souls who have wrestled and prevailed. This retirement was a grave-yard, with a marble slab for an altar, where that little band met to worship G.o.d--perhaps for the last time.

But among all the dead and wounded, I saw none who touched my heart so much as one beautiful boy, severely wounded; he was scarcely more than a child, and certainly a very attractive one. Some one writes the following, after he was sent to a hospital:

"Among the many brave, uncomplaining fellows who were brought up to the hospital from the battle of Fredericksburg, was a bright-eyed and intelligent youth, sixteen years old, who belonged to a northern regiment.

He appeared more affectionate and tender, more refined and thoughtful than many of his comrades, and attracted a good deal of attention from the attendants and visitors. Manifestly the pet of some household which he had left, perhaps, in spite of entreaty and tears. He expressed an anxious longing for the arrival of his mother, who was expected, having been informed that he was mortally wounded, and failing fast. Ere she arrived, however, he died. But before the end, almost his last act of consciousness was the thought that she had really come; for, as a lady sat by his pillow and wiped the death-dews from his brow, just as his sight was failing, he rallied a little, like an expiring taper in its socket, looked up longingly and joyfully, and in tones that drew tears from every eye whispered audibly, 'Is that mother?' Then drawing her toward him with all his feeble power, he nestled his head in her arms, like a sleeping child, and thus died, with the sweet word, 'Mother,' on his lips."

Raise me in your arms, dear mother, Let me once more look On the green and waving willows, And the flowing brook; Hark, those strains of angel music From the choirs above!

Dearest mother, I am going, Truly "G.o.d is love."

A council of war was held by our generals, and the conclusion arrived at that the enterprise should be abandoned, and that the army should recross the Rappahannock under cover of darkness. Everything was conducted in the most quiet manner; so quiet, indeed, that the enemy never suspected the movement, and the retreat was accomplished, and the bridges partially removed, before the fact was discovered.

CHAPTER XXIV.

AFTER THE BATTLE--SUFFERINGS OF THE WOUNDED--GENERAL BURNSIDE'S ORDER--"STUCK IN THE MUD"--HOOKER IN COMMAND--WESTERN CAMPAIGN--CAVALRY RECONNOISSANCE--ANOTHER DISGUISE--AGAIN IN DIXIE--A WEDDING PARTY--IN A TRAP--REBEL CONSCRIPT--ON THE MARCH--A REBEL CAPTAIN--A FIERCE ENGAGEMENT--AGAIN UNDER THE OLD FLAG--PAYING A DEBT OF GRAt.i.tUDE.

After the battle of Fredericksburg the weather was very cold, and the wounded suffered exceedingly--even after they were sent to Aquia Creek, and other places--for they could not all be provided for and made comfortable immediately. Our troops returned to their old camps in the mud, and remained stationary for several weeks, notwithstanding our daily orders were to be ready to march at a moment's notice. The unnecessary slaughter of our men at Fredericksburg had a sad effect upon our troops, and the tone of the northern press was truly distressing. The wailing for the n.o.ble dead seemed wafted on every breeze, for

In the city, in the village, In the hamlet far away, Sit the mothers, watching, waiting, For their soldier boys to-day.

They are coming, daily coming, One by one, and score by score, In their leaden casings folded, Underneath the flag they bore.

On the twentieth of January General Burnside issued the following order to the army, which was joyfully received; for of all places for an encampment, that seemed to be the most inconvenient and disagreeable:

HEAD-QUARTERS, ARMY OF THE POTOMAC, _Camp near Falmouth, Va._, Jan. 20, 1863.

GENERAL ORDERS--No. 7.

The Commanding General announces to the Army of the Potomac that they are about to meet the enemy once more. The late brilliant actions in North Carolina, Tennessee and Arkansas, have divided and weakened the enemy on the Rappahannock, and the auspicious moment seems to have arrived to strike a great and mortal blow to the rebellion, and to gain that decisive victory which is due to the country.

Let the gallant soldiers of so many brilliant battle-fields accomplish this achievement, and a fame the most glorious awaits them.

The Commanding General calls for the firm and united action of officers and men, and, under the providence of G.o.d, the Army of the Potomac will have taken the great step towards restoring peace to the country, and the Government to its rightful authority.

By command of MAJOR-GENERAL BURNSIDE.

LEWIS RICHMOND, _a.s.sistant Adjutant-General_.

Soon after this order was issued a portion of the army did really move--but the pontoons became "stuck in the mud," and the troops returned again. In this manner the winter wore away, and a severe winter I thought it was; for in riding a distance of two miles, in two instances, I had my feet frozen.

General Hooker was now put in command of the Army of the Potomac, and Burnside, with the Ninth Army Corps, ordered to the Western department.

Being desirous of leaving the Army of the Potomac, I now applied for permission to go with the Ninth Corps, which was granted. I did not go with the troops, however, but went to Washington first, and remained several days; then took the cars and proceeded to Louisville, Kentucky, and arrived there before the troops did.

The last entry in my journal, before leaving the Army of the Potomac, was as follows: "The _weather_ department is in perfect keeping with the War Department; its policy being to make as many changes as possible, and every one worse than the last. May G.o.d bless the old Army of the Potomac, and save it from total annihilation."

On the arrival of the troops at Louisville, they were sent in detachments to different places--some to Bardstown, some to Lebanon, and others to guard different portions of the railroad.

The third day after my arrival I went out with a reconnoitering expedition, under command of General M. It was entirely composed of cavalry. We rode thirty-six miles that afternoon--the roads were splendid.

When we were about twelve miles from our lines we changed our course and struck through the woods, fording creeks and crossing swamps, which was anything but pleasant.

After emerging from the thick undergrowth, on one occasion, we came upon an inferior force of the enemy's cavalry; a sharp skirmish ensued, which resulted in the capture of five prisoners from the rebel band, and wounding several. Three of our men were slightly wounded, but we returned to Louisville in good order, and enjoyed the luxury of a good supper at a hotel, which is a rare thing in that city.

I took the cars the next day and went to Lebanon--dressed in one of the rebel prisoner's clothes--and thus disguised, made another trip to rebeldom. My business purported to be buying up b.u.t.ter and eggs, at the farm-houses, for the rebel army. I pa.s.sed through the lines somewhere, without knowing it; for on coming to a little village toward evening, I found it occupied by a strong force of rebel cavalry. The first house I went to was filled with officers and citizens. I had stumbled upon a wedding party, unawares. Captain Logan, a recruiting officer, had been married that afternoon to a brilliant young widow whose husband had been killed in the rebel army a few months before. She had discovered that widow's weeds were not becoming to her style of beauty, so had decided to appear once more in bridal costume, for a change.

I was questioned pretty sharply by the handsome captain in regard to the nature of my business in that locality, but finding me an innocent, straightforward Kentuckian, he came to the conclusion that I was all right. But he also arrived at the conclusion that I was old enough to be in the army, and bantered me considerably upon my want of patriotism.

The rebel soldier's clothes which I wore did not indicate any thing more than that I was a Kentuckian--for their cavalry do not dress in any particular uniform, for scarcely two of them dress alike--the only uniformity being that they most generally dress in b.u.t.ternut color.

I tried to make my escape from that village as soon as possible, but just as I was beginning to congratulate myself upon my good fortune, who should confront me but Captain Logan. Said he: "See here, my lad; I think the best thing you can do is to enlist, and join a company which is just forming here in the village, and will leave in the morning. We are giving a bounty to all who freely enlist, and are conscripting those who refuse.