Personal Recollections of the Civil War Part 4

September 19. It was reported early in the morning that the Rebels had retreated. We soon formed line, crossed the river and moved over across the battlefield where there were a good many of our dead lying about. We moved along down to the Potomac where the Antietam empties into it. A few Johnnies were in sight on the other bank of the Potomac but disappeared when we opened fire on them.

During the next forenoon who should appear in camp unannounced, but General Burnside. He had ridden over from his headquarters, wherever they were, with a single orderly, and in his cardigan jacket; he "had selected a fine place for us to go into camp," he said. We were ordered into line and followed him to our new camp ground. He stayed there a half an hour or an hour talking with the officers and men. He told us we could stay there a while and get rested, then rode away.

The reason for this act of kindness toward the old regiment by General Burnside I have never been able to fully account for. He may have known that General Reno regarded it with special favor and General Reno had just been killed at South Mountain. Brigade after brigade had been sent in to take the bridge at Antietam but it remained for the old 2d Brigade to accomplish the work. The 21st was the only New England regiment in the 2d Brigade, and he being a Rhode Island man, may have had something to do with it. At any rate, it made the boys feel mighty good to have the old general come over and show a personal interest in the regiment. The capture of the Stone Bridge by the old 2d Brigade deserves special mention for more reasons than one. One reason is the following: Charles Carlton Coffin, war correspondent of the Boston Journal, was an eye witness of the affair. He wrote home to his paper an account of the battle. In that account he spoke in such enthusiastic terms of the charge of the old 2d Brigade at the capture of the bridge that a special edition of the paper appeared a few days later containing it. In that article he declared, "The heroism of the a.s.sault upon the bridge by the three regiments was unsurpa.s.sed either on the Rebel or Union side, in the annals of the war."

October 1. We moved down into Pleasant Valley and went into camp. We remained there until the 27th, resting, drilling, and being supplied with clothing, shoes, shelter tents, etc.

The 3d. President Lincoln visited the army and there was a grand review. A review at that time of the Army of the Potomac, just at the end of McClellan's service with it, showing his great organizing ability at its best, was a spectacle of exceptional interest. The Army of the Potomac numbered at that time about 145,000 men. It moved in formation by company front, double quick time, regiment after regiment, brigade after brigade, division after division, army corps after army corps, infantry, cavalry and artillery, tramped, surged and poured past the reviewing party, at the head of which sat the President. It was a formidable spectacle and must have pleased Mr. Lincoln. The President, it must be conceded, made a peculiar impression as he sat on his horse, his long legs almost dangling on the ground, or curled up and locked under the horse's body, his tall hat tipped back, among a lot of military men (every one a soldier from the ground up, and every one as trim a type as could be wished for) and sitting his horse as if a part of it. But when the troops had all marched past and the reviewing party rode away, they could not get away from him.

Awkward as Mr. Lincoln looked, he was at home on his horse. He had a good horse and he stayed right with them to the end.

A few days later Clara Barton made us a visit. She brought her knitting with her and stayed all the afternoon. She hunted up the boys who had a.s.sisted her the evening after the battle. She went around among the officers and men chatting with them in the pleasantest way. Toward night we had a dress parade. She was made daughter of the regiment. She made a little speech and there was cemented a friendship begun under fire which was destined to last to the end of the lives of all partic.i.p.ants.

October 27. Crossing the Potomac at Berlin we again entered Virginia marching as far as Lovettsville. The next day we were informed that the 9th Army Corps had become a part of the Army of the Potomac. In the middle of the afternoon of the 29th we left camp and marched until about sundown.

As we pa.s.sed a farmhouse late in the afternoon I noticed some boys from companies ahead of us jumping over the wall and getting cabbages from a patch right beside the road. I followed suit and got a good one. Later on as the head of the column turned into the field where we were to camp for the night, I noticed the major was demanding the cabbages from the boys ahead of us. I did not like the idea of being cheated out of mine, so I out with my big knife, halved it and gave one piece to Billy. We had no trouble in each of us concealing his half, but some one had to have some fun out of it, and as we pa.s.sed, the major piped up, "I say, Tom, what are cabbages worth a pound?" The major, I think, took it as a slap at him instead of being a little fun among ourselves, for he looked as ugly as a meat axe at us, but he did not see any cabbages and we did have cabbage for supper. The next morning we broke camp early and marched along the east side of the Blue Ridge mountains as far as Vestal Gap. The following day, November 2d, we moved along up the valley as far as Snickers Gap, where we stayed two days.

November 4. Reports were flying around camp early in the morning that the Johnnies were pouring through Ashby's Gap in force and that they meant fight. At nine o'clock we started for Ashby's Gap, but on our arrival there, there was not a Johnnie in sight--another of those old-fashioned false reports. We moved on as far as Mana.s.sas Gap the 5th. All the way along as we approached we could hear the artillery at the gap. Our men occupied the east end and the Confederates the west end. Some one said the artillerymen were paying their respects to each other.

November 6. We moved back from the mountain range about ten miles to the town of Orleans. The next morning we started out and marched a few miles, then filed left, crossed a narrow field into a piece of woods and stacked arms. After sitting around a little while I started out to see if I could find a house and get something to eat a little out of the ordinary, for to be constantly eating hardtack and salt horse became a little monotonous after being indulged in month after month.

I pa.s.sed along through a series of fields on high ground, then bearing a little to the right pa.s.sed through a strip of wood from the farther side of which a ridge appeared a few rods out in the field. When I reached the top of the ridge, the looked-for-house appeared in sight a few rods down the other slope, and down to it I went. When I got within five or six rods of the house, a Johnnie came out and walked off down towards some wood on the farther side of the field. This opened my eyes, and then I saw for the first time that that wood down there was alive with Johnnies--not an ordinary picket post but a regiment, or a brigade was there. There were tents and camp-fires in large numbers. I must have been five or six rods from the house, and the wood where the Johnnies were, some eight or ten rods beyond, when I made this discovery, but this was no time to hesitate.

I walked down to the house and asked the woman if she had any corn-bread to sell. She said, "No, I have just sold the last I had to one of our men." That "our men" showed me at once that she knew who I was. I stepped out into the yard, took a look around and sauntered back up over the hill again. When I got out of sight of the house I quickened my steps until I was a good distance from that camp.

November 8. A change of great importance has taken place in the army.

General McClellan has been relieved of command of the "Army of the Potomac," and General Burnside, the old commander of the 9th Army Corps, has been put in his place.

Here ends the Maryland campaign. We shall soon start on a campaign that will be known as the Fredericksburg campaign under General Burnside.

CHAPTER V

THE FREDERICKSBURG CAMPAIGN

A hard race for a pig. Chaplain Ball returns home. Picket duty along the river. The Battle of Fredericksburg. Burying the dead. Christmas revels with the Confederates. A band of horn-blowers. A raid on the sutler. A costume ball at Hotel de Ville.

General McClellan was relieved of command, November 8th, 1862, and General A. E. Burnside succeeded him in command of the Army of the Potomac.

The same day we left our camp at Orleans, we marched to Jeffersonton and went into camp in the village. About twenty men of Company K were detailed to go on outpost duty about a mile from the center of the town on one of the roads leading from it. It was my fortune to be one of that detail. We camped near the house of a Virginia farmer with whom, during the three days we remained there, I came to be on very good terms. He was about fifty years old, seemed honest and talked freely and fairly about the war.

He gave me an account of the experience he had with "our men," as he called the Confederates. As they were pa.s.sing his place one time, he said to his wife in the morning as they began to pa.s.s, "Wife, shall we do something for these men? They have a hard time of it." After some consideration it was agreed that he would kill a pig. He would also arrange a fire down by the road for doing the frying. The house was located back on high ground about fifteen rods from the road. The negroes were to bake corn bread up at the house and carry it down to them at the road. He was to fry pig meat and his wife was to make sandwiches and as far as possible she would give each soldier a sandwich as he pa.s.sed by.

They worked there until nearly night, when a sergeant asked him if he had been up to the house lately and told him he had better go up. Just back of the house was an old road leading off across the fields, and beside that old road he found the soldiers were working the same scheme, he and his wife were carrying out down by the main road, the negroes doing the work.

They had killed another pig, were frying meat, baking corn bread, making and pa.s.sing out the sandwiches, and business was flourishing.

Toward evening of the 11th it was noised about that we--our brigade and a battery of artillery only were at Jeffersonton--were in an exposed position and that we should be ready to move at a moment's notice. During the first part of the night I was on picket duty out on the old road above referred to back of the house. I was lying flat on the ground behind a rail fence. I saw a man approaching. He was coming up that old road. I waited until he was about thirty feet from me, then I ordered him to halt. He turned and ran like a deer. I fired, but I did not stop him. This occurred at about ten o'clock. At eleven o'clock I was relieved from guard duty and at about twelve o'clock we left there and before daylight the next morning we were on the other side of the Rappahannock.

During the day (November 11), our brigade commander had discovered that we were some four or five miles in front of the rest of the army and in a dangerous position. Longstreet had evidently discovered this too, and during the day his scouts were finding out how strong we were, etc. Had we remained there another day we might have had an opportunity to show our strength.

I cannot omit to mention an incident which occurred at the last minute just as we left the old farmer's place. The farmer and I had been rather friendly during our stay there, but he had never given me a piece of corn bread to eat, or a cla.s.s of milk to drink, and I was indignant, and I determined to get square with him. As we were about to leave, I thought of an apple tree out back of one of his buildings in which a small flock of turkeys roosted nights; so three of us boys went around there and succeeded in capturing two of them. They added somewhat to the weight of our luggage, but we had not a long march to make and did not mind it. We remained in camp all day the 12th, nothing occurring out of the ordinary.

On the afternoon of the 13th Billy, Tom and I had gone back into the woods a little way out of sight of camp to engage in a little hunt for the loathed but ever present gray-back. I had finished the campaign and was resuming my clothing, Tom had entirely redressed, but Billy was still on undress duty. Suddenly Billy, whose quickness of sight and hearing were remarkable, shouted Rebs! Rebs! Down a cross-road along beside the woods on our right, a squad of the enemies' cavalry hove in sight, they saw us about the same time Billy saw them, and started for us. I was barefoot, but I ran as best I could carrying my traps in one hand and holding up my unb.u.t.toned trousers with the other. Directly I heard a musket shot just behind me, and turned to see that Billy in entire undress, had unhorsed the leader of the Rebel squad. We ran for all we were worth for camp, Billy in his extreme undress state bringing up the rear, he never was good on the retreat anyway; as we ran we shouted Rebs! The boys soon came pouring out of their tents, and the Johnnies seeing what they were running into, turned and made good their retreat, leaving their wounded comrade behind them. We started down the river the 15th, marching along the left bank and on the evening of the 18th, went into camp on the same field we camped on August 13th, when we were on our way to join General Pope.

November 19. We continued our march down the river and toward night went into camp opposite Fredericksburg. After supper I noticed a lot of the boys down along the river bank, and a lot of Johnnies on the other side.

They were having a good deal of fun jollying each other across the river.

We remained in camp down opposite the city for ten days, watching the Rebs as they worked away on their entrenchments on the heights back of the city. The chaffing of the men on either side of the river was early put a stop to.

The day after we reached Fredericksburg, rations being a little short, I thought I would go out foraging. I must have gone three miles when I saw a pig disappear over a little hill about a quarter of a mile ahead of me. I chased him for a good mile, gaining on him steadily, and as I got up within a few rods of him, fired at him twice with my revolver, once wounding him, when bang went a carbine and over rolled Mr. Pig, dead.

Imagine my surprise at hearing the carbine so near. I stopped, looked around, and behold I had chased the pig right into one of our cavalry outposts and one of the men had shot him. It might just as well have been a Confederate outpost, for I must have been nearly four miles from camp.

Well, we skinned Mr. Pig, cut off some meat and fried it, and we had a good meal, the cavalrymen furnishing hardtack. Then we divided the rest, the cavalrymen keeping a part, and I trudged back to camp with the remainder.

November 29. We were relieved from duty along the river and went into camp with the rest of the brigade about a mile and a half back from the river on high ground.

December 1. As the weather grew colder many of us set to work to improve our quarters. My tent-mate and I raised the walls of our tent about two feet high, using three logs of wood on each side. At the end opposite the entrance we built a fireplace and chimney. The fireplace was the most difficult part, as it was impossible to get stone to build with. We were thus obliged to use sticks of wood for binding material, covering them with mud, otherwise we would have had conflagrations constantly. Indeed, they did occasionally occur, the wood in the walls of the fireplace taking fire. The two bunks were placed one on each side, raised a foot, or a foot and a half from the ground. An open s.p.a.ce was thus left from the fireplace to the entrance. Our shelter tents were used for covering. Two pieces answered for the roof and a piece for each end. The pieces of shelter tents were square with b.u.t.ton holes and b.u.t.tons on every side, so they could be b.u.t.toned together and make a quite satisfactory covering. A little fire in the fireplace and the tent was very comfortable. To be sure if the fire was allowed to get low or to go out the tent would cool off very quickly. The cloth of those shelter tents was especially good in regard to shedding water, considering how thin and light it was.

December 4. Chaplain Ball having resigned, to our great regret left us for home. When I got up the next morning I found it was snowing and it was very cold; wasn't I glad to have a good bunch of wood under my bunk to enable me to have a good fire. There is a lot of talk about camp of a battle and on the 9th, sixty rounds of cartridges were given each man, which looks like business. There was a general inspection the 10th and it was to be observed that troops were being moved about considerably. Very early in the morning of the 11th two heavy guns were fired, and a little later our artillery opened fire on the Confederate works, all along the line on the other side of the river. About half past eight we fell into line and marched down to a point near where the engineers were trying to lay a pontoon bridge across the river opposite the upper part of the city.

The men were not able to get more than half way across the river on account of the Johnnies' sharpshooters concealed in houses and other places on the other side of the river, who shot down every man who attempted to work on the bridge. Early in the afternoon General Burnside rode down to the river where the men were trying to lay the pontoon bridge. He immediately solved the problem. He suggested that a charge be made across the river by men in pontoon boats, and that as soon as the boats should reach the other sh.o.r.e, the men should form line and advance.

Not, however, until the boats took over loads of men the second time was the advance made. Then they formed line and went forward and the sharpshooters were driven from the waterfront. The bridge was completed at about four o'clock, and troops began to move across the river. The city was cleared of Rebels that night, they falling back to the heights beyond.

We, however, went back to our old camp on the east side of the river for the night. About noon I went over and took a look at the incompleted bridge. There were two or three dead men lying stretched out at the farther end of the bridge where the Confederate sharpshooters had stopped the work.

General Woodbury with a corps of engineers had charge of the laying of the pontoon bridge. They were supported by parts of four regiments--the 7th Michigan, the 19th and 20th Ma.s.sachusetts, and the 50th New York. The men from the 50th New York had charge of the boats at the time of the charge, and the attack was made by the men from the 7th Michigan and the 19th and 20th Ma.s.sachusetts.

December 12. We left camp leisurely and marched down to the river, crossed the bridge, moved down beside the river and halted. As we reached the further end of the bridge, who should I find there looking for me, but my brother Vertulan. He was a.s.sistant surgeon of the 19th Ma.s.sachusetts Regiment, a part of which regiment had been in the charge, in the boats, the day before, he going over with the second lot of boat-loads.

The early morning was foggy and we got over there under cover of the fog without exposure; but soon the fog cleared. Then the Johnnies'

artillerymen had a good view of the approach to the bridge for a short distance. They soon got their range and were able to drop sh.e.l.ls in there with considerable accuracy, doing more or less damage. We remained there under the river bank all day and all the next night.

December 13. Now comes the fight. About ten o'clock we moved out through the city and formed line of battle on the other side, and there we waited until past noon. Then we moved forward. The field across which we charged must have been from half to three-quarters of a mile wide. Before we reached the foot of the range of hills which, at that point were called Mary's Heights, we lost heavily in crossing that field.

When about half way across the field, Sergeant Collins, the color bearer was mortally wounded. Plunket then took the colors and a little further along he was wounded in his left hand by a minnie ball; in an instant after a sh.e.l.l burst right in his face and carried away his right hand and forearm, the colors falling on his wounded arm and hand. Olney then took the colors and carried them through the rest of the battle. The blood to be seen on the flag in the State House came from Plunket's wounds at that time.

All along the top of the ridge in our front, the enemy's artillery was posted, and at the foot of the hill was the infantry. As we reached the farther edge of the field just in front of the Rebel infantry, we came to a board fence. We were ordered to lie down behind that fence. Then the order was given to fall back behind a little ridge and lie down, and there we remained the rest of the afternoon firing away whenever we saw a man or the head of a man to fire at. Late in the afternoon a battery of artillery came out and took a position about a quarter of a mile in our rear and opened fire on the Johnnies directly in our front, firing right over our heads, the b.a.l.l.s pa.s.sing so near the sound was anything but agreeable.

Just before we started on the charge, as we lay in the field just back of the city, a Company I man was killed by having his head carried bodily away by a cannon ball, the body rolled over, the blood spurted from the neck as water comes from a pump, until the heart pumped the body dry, the body then settled down a lifeless ma.s.s.

The circ.u.mstances leading up to this man's death were peculiar. He had from the beginning a presentiment that if he went into a battle he should be killed and up to that time he had succeeded in evading each fight. This the boys did not like, and abuse was heaped upon him unmercifully.

Soldiers have no respect for a man who deserts them in the most trying hour. Life thus became so unbearable to him, that as it became known there was to be a battle, he wrote his farewell letters to his family at home, gave them to his captain, requesting him to post them in the event anything happened to him. Company I was right near Company K at the time, and nearly every one of our boys saw him killed, and often afterwards spoke of the incident.

During the afternoon a new regiment was sent out to re-inforce us. When they got within fifteen or twenty rods of us, they halted and opened fire on the Johnnies through us.

During the evening we were relieved and went back to the city to the place under the river bank and had a good supper and a good drink of whiskey. It is notorious that not a single general officer crossed the river in front of the city at the Battle of Fredericksburg. It is not strange that General Burnside should have failed in command of the Army of the Potomac.

Any officer who should have succeeded General McClellan would have met with the same fate, that army was so divided by jealousies and partisanship. Army correspondents spoke of these strifes and bickerings as notorious and scandalous. The efficiency of the command was thus seriously impaired by the internal dissensions. Before we went to sleep the report was circulated about the regiment, that General Burnside would lead the 9th Army Corps against Mary's Heights the next morning, and Reno's old brigade was to have the advance.

The next day, the 14th, we remained in camp down by the riverside all day, and no attack was made. In the evening we went back to the same part of the battlefield where we had fought, relieved some troops there, and we were told we were to stay there through the next day and that we were to hold that position at all hazards. We were about fifteen or eighteen rods from the Johnnies' line at the foot of the hill. They were behind a line of breastworks; we had almost nothing in front of us. The men we relieved had dug up a little earth and had dragged together a few dead bodies, but only a few. As soon, however, as our boys understood what was expected of them, they set to work. But digging was pretty slow work with the ground frozen and nothing but bayonets and case knives to dig with. But a good many dead men were dragged together, so that some of the men had something of a semblance of a protection. Thus we prepared for the day, which soon came. But it did not seem as if it would ever pa.s.s. We could not fire a gun. The Johnnies might fire as much as they liked. We must lie as still as the dead men about us. But finally the day did pa.s.s, night came on; we were able to get up and stretch ourselves and shake some of the cold from our half frozen bodies. At twelve o'clock we quietly withdrew, pa.s.sed through the city, which was now deserted crossed the pontoon bridge and went back to our old camp.

After a great battle there are no end of stories of experiences and hair-breadth escapes going the rounds of the camp. The following story which went the rounds at the time, appealed to me and has thus stuck in my memory. A man who was in a Ma.s.sachusetts battery that was in Hooker's corps and was engaged around to the right of us, on the east side of the heights, had an interesting encounter with a Johnnie which might have resulted very differently from what it did. His duty when in action was to swab out the cannon after it was fired, then in loading to ram down the cartridge. His position was thus near the muzzle of the gun and the most advanced of any of the men working the piece. The battery took an advanced and an exposed position. The Confederates charged on it hoping to capture the guns, but the battery mowed them down furiously. One Reb, however, kept right on, marched right up and made a bayonet thrust at him. He turned, parried the thrust with his swab, knocking the muzzle of the Johnnies' gun down; the bayonet, however, went through the thick part of his left leg just below the knee. At that moment the sergeant in command of the gun who stood a few feet to the rear, drew his revolver and shot the Johnnie who fell to the ground, the stock end of the musket going down with him. The bayonet sticking through the leg of our friend, thus gave him a dreadful twist, but he stooped over, picked up the gun and pulled the bayonet out of his leg, jumped on to the cannon and as the other men had brought up the horses he rode away. He thus made his escape and the battery lost no guns.

The morning of the 17th it was my fortune to be one of a detail of fifty men ordered out on special fatigue duty. We were marched down to the headquarters of the corps guard and stayed there all day. At night rations were sent down to us, and we slept in one of the guard tents that night.

The next morning (the 18th) we were marched down to the river bank under a flag of truce. The Johnnies showed a flag of truce on the other side of the river. We got into a boat and crossed over. As soon as we were on the other side, we learned that we were to go up onto the battlefield and bury our dead. We marched through the city out onto the very field where we had fought, and where we did picket duty the 15th, to witness the most ghastly, the most shocking, the most humiliating scene possible. The field was covered with dead men. Dead men everywhere, some black in the face, most of them had the characteristic pallor of death; nearly all had been stripped of every article of clothing. All were frozen; some with their heads off, some with their arms off, some with their legs off, dismembered, torn to pieces, they lay there single, in rows, and in piles.

I did not count them, but there must have been three hundred dead men in the row behind which we concealed ourselves on the 15th, a part of which we dragged together the night before. Just to the left of our regiment, at the time of the fight there stood a brick house. From this house, inside and just behind it, we carried more than forty dead men. I have no idea how many men were lying behind the board fence, but there were certainly one-quarter of a line of battle--one-half of a single line.