Personal Recollections of the War of 1861 Part 2

Further on we came to a cleared field of considerable size, in which there were, I believe, one or two small, old buildings, perhaps negro houses. Just before reaching the open field we turned off to the right and came in on the right hand side of the field, and lay down behind the rail fence. While in this situation, a general officer came up and had a talk with Barlow. From what I heard at the time and have since read, I am of the opinion it was Gen. Kearney. I heard him say, "Colonel, you will place your men across that road, and hold it at all cost." Barlow replied, "General, you know I have but few men." "Yes," he said, "but they are good ones." The general, whoever he was, then went off. Barlow at once ordered the men up, and to advance. The fence was pa.s.sed, then a right wheel made, an advance of some rods, and we were near to the edge of the field and directly across the road. The order was given to lie down. Shortly after this was executed, a voice came out of the woods in front of us, and very near by. It was too dark to see anything, but our ears took in every word of the question asked, "What regiment is that?"

At once an Irishman replied, "Sixty-first New York." Then came the command, "Lay down your arms, or I'll blow every one of you to h.e.l.l."

That sentence was scarcely out of his mouth, when Barlow roared, "Up and at them, men."

The command was instantly obeyed. We got in the first volley, and it was doubtless effective. Some of our wounded left on the ground and captured next day, reported, when we next saw them, that there was a large number of dead rebels close up to the line of our field.

As soon as our volley had been delivered the men of their own accord dropped back a rod or two, lined up and went steadily at work. As I have suggested, it was too dark to see anything within the woods, and, if the enemy could see anything of us, it was just a line.

Our fire was at once returned. As soon as our empty muskets could be loaded the men would take a quick aim at a flash in the woods and let drive. The enemy did the same. In no battle that I was in, did the bullets sing about my head as they did here. No doubt this came from the aim drawn on the flash of my musket. This steady, rapid firing continued till it ceased from the woods, and we concluded that we were victors.

Barlow then directed that the sound men take to the rear those alive, but wounded so that they could not help themselves. A sergeant by the name of Marshall, as I now remember, was badly wounded through the thigh. Another man and I attempted to carry him back. I found that my gun was an obstruction and I laid it down, thinking I could come back and find it, or some other. We carried our comrade to the rear, where quite a number were placed, among them Capt. E. M. Deming, who was suffering from a broken leg. We were close friends, having been together in the winter of '60 and '61 in the Academic Department of Madison University. I stopped to have a little talk with him, believing that there was to be no more fighting that night.

Presently my attention was called to the fact that there was a fresh lining up of men where we had just fought. It was not so dark but that the outline of a body of men could be distinguished in the open. At once the firing from both sides was resumed as brisk as ever. Later on I learned that a part of the 81st Pa. had come to our aid.

I was not long in sensing that my position was not military. Some of my regiment must be in that line, and I was some rods to the rear, and without a gun. I did not propose to go hunting for a lost gun in that darkness and under fire. In looking about, I discovered a gun standing against a tree. I took it, saw that it was loaded, and then conceived the notion that I might make a flank attack on the rebels by myself. The line of battle on each side was but a few rods in length. Where I stood the trees were not thick, and I was a little to the right of the firing.

I made an advance movement that brought me nearly up to the line of our men, but, as I said, to their right. I decided that Providence had favored me in providing a good-sized stump just beyond and in the line I proposed to fire. I brought my gun to an "aim," waited for a flash from a Confederate gun, and pulled the trigger. About as soon as could be, after the flash of my fire, came quite a volley of bullets singing around my head, from the enemy's line. I moved closer to my stump for more complete protection, when to my dismay, I found it to be only a body of tall gra.s.s. I did no more firing from that position, but fell back in good order.

The fighting soon ceased and our men retired and took position in the road in the woods, but near to the open field. We lay down on our arms.

After a while the enemy came up where their wounded were, and we could hear them call out the regiments to which they belonged as they were picked up. Finally matters quieted down and most of us went to sleep.

At the time we called this the battle of Charles City Cross Roads. I think the accepted name at present is Glendale. This position had been during the day desperately attacked by the Confederates and heroically defended by the Federals. If the enemy had succeeded in their purpose they would have cut off a large section of our army and captured property of great value. In my account of the fight written at the time to my people I said, "Barlow got us together in line and found that a good deal more than half of the men were gone, and pretty much all of the officers. Captains Deming, Spencer and Moore lost legs, and Angell was wounded. Lieut. Crawford and Adjutant Gregory were wounded. Col.

Barlow and Lieuts. Keech and Morrison were the only officers with us, and some of these had very close calls, all of them had bullet holes in their clothing. Barlow's horse was killed and Keech's scabbard was battered up with one or more bullets. But forty men were together unharmed at the end of the contest."

That my account of this fight may not stand alone as a stubborn and desperate one, I will quote from the account of it as found in Appleton's Annual of 1862. While it may be obnoxious to the charge of gushiness, to those who were in this fight, by daylight, or in the night, I think scarcely anything can appear exaggerated. It is as follows:

"The advance of the Confederate force was actively resumed early in the morning. Generals D. H. Hill, Whiting and Ewell, under the command of General Jackson, crossed the Chickahominy by the grapevine bridge, and followed the Federal retreat by the Williamsburg and Savage Station road. Generals Longstreet, A. P. Hill, Huger and Magruder took the Charles City road with the intention of cutting off the retreat of the Federal forces. At the White Oak Swamp the left wing under General Jackson came up with the Federal force under Generals Franklin and Sumner, about 11 a. m. They had crossed the stream and burned the bridge behind them. An artillery fire was opened on both sides, which continued with great severity and destruction until night. The result of this battle was to prevent the further advance of the enemy in this direction, which was the single line of road over which trains had pa.s.sed.

"Late, on the same day, a battle was fought between the forces of Gen.

Heintzelman and the main force of the enemy, which attempted to advance by the Charles City road to cut off the retreat. This force was led by Generals Longstreet, A. P. Hill and Huger. The former, however, being called away, the command devolved on Gen. Hill. As the ma.s.ses advanced upon the Federal batteries of heavy guns, they were received with such a destructive fire of artillery and musketry as threw them into disorder.

Gen. Lee sent all his disposable troops to the rescue, but the Federal fire was so terrible as to disconsert the coolest veterans. Whole ranks of the Confederate troops were hurled to the ground. Says an actor in the conflict: 'The thunder of cannon, the cracking of musketry from thousands of combatants, mingled with the screams of the wounded and dying, were terrific to the ear and to the imagination.'

"The conflict thus continued within a narrow s.p.a.ce for hours, and not a foot of ground was won by the Confederates.

"Night was close at hand. The Federal lines were strengthened and the confidence of the Confederates began to falter. The losses of his exhausted and wornout troops in attempting to storm the batteries were terrible. Orders were given to Gen. Jackson to cover the retreat in case the army should have to fall back, and directions were sent to Richmond to get all the public property ready for removal. The Federal forces, perceiving the confusion, began step by step to press forward. The posture of affairs at this time is thus related by a Confederate officer: 'The enemy, noticing our confusion, now advanced, with the cry, 'Onward to Richmond!' Many old soldiers who had served in distant Missouri and on the plains of Arkansas, wept in the bitterness of their souls like children. Of what avail had it been to us that our best blood had flowed for six long days? Of what avail all our unceasing and exhaustless endurance? Everything, everything seemed lost, and a general depression came over all our hearts. Batteries dashed past in headlong flight; ammunition, hospital and supply wagons rushed along, and swept the troops away with them from the battlefield. In vain was the most frantic exertion, entreaty and self sacrifice of the staff officers! The troops had lost their foot-hold, and all was over with the Southern Confederacy!

"In this moment of desperation Gen. A. P Hill came up with a few regiments he had managed to rally, but the enemy was continually pressing nearer and nearer! Louder and louder their shouts and the watchword, "On to Richmond!" could be heard. Cavalry officers sprang from their saddles and rushed into the ranks of the infantry regiments now deprived of their proper officers. Gen. Hill seized the standard of the 4th North Carolina regiment, which he had formerly commanded and shouted to the soldiers, "If you will not follow me, I will perish alone!" Upon this a number of officers dashed forward to cover their beloved general with their bodies; the soldiers hastily rallied, and the cry, 'Lead on, Hill; head your old North Carolina boys!' rose over the field.

"And now Hill charged forward with this ma.s.s he had thus worked up to the wildest enthusiasm. The enemy halted when they saw these columns, in flight a moment before, now advancing to the attack, and Hill burst upon his late pursuers like a famished lion.

"A fearful hand to hand conflict now ensued, for there was no time to load and fire. The ferocity with which this conflict was waged was incredible. It was useless to beg the exasperated men for quarter; there was no moderation, no pity, no compa.s.sion in that b.l.o.o.d.y work of bayonet and knife. The son sank dying at his father's feet; the father forgot that he had a child--a dying child; the brother did not see that a brother was expiring a few paces from him; the friend heard not the last groan of a friend; all natural ties were dissolved; only one feeling, of thirst, panted in every bosom--REVENGE.

"Here it was that the son of Maj. Peyton, but fifteen years of age, called to his father for help. A ball had shattered both his legs. 'When we have beaten the enemy then I will help you,' answered Peyton, 'I have other sons to lead to glory. Forward!' But the column had advanced only a few paces further when the Major himself fell to the earth a corpse.

Prodigies of valor were here performed on both sides. History will ask in vain for braver soldiers than those who here fought and fell. But of the demoniac fury of both parties one at a distance can form no idea.

"Even the wounded, despairing of succor, collecting their last energies of life, plunged their knives into the bosoms of foemen who lay near them still breathing.

"The success of Gen. Hill enabled other generals to once more lead their disorganized troops back to the fight, and the contest was renewed along the whole line, and kept up until deep into the night; for everything depended upon our keeping the enemy at bay, counting too, upon their exhaustion at last, until fresh troops could arrive to reinforce us. At length, about half past ten in the evening, the divisions of Magruder, Wise and Holmes, came up and deployed to the front of our army."

As I have suggested, the foregoing quotation is a somewhat florid account of desperate, prolonged fighting.

The following account of the 61st's fight at Glendale is taken from the _Portland Daily Press_. It is the narration of a leading actor in the battle, and was given at the annual meeting of the Maine Commandery of the Loyal Legion held at Riverton, May 3d, 1899.

"This paper will deal chiefly with my personal experiences as subaltern and Captain in the Sixty-first N. Y. Volunteers during the first and last days of June, 1862, in the Peninsular Campaign, Virginia.

"Omitting the narrative of the regiment's partic.i.p.ation in the battles of Fair Oaks, Peach Orchard, Savage Station and White Oak Swamp, we come to the battle in which the writer received the wound which crippled him for life.

"As we drew near to the battlefield of Glendale, we came to a place which tried the courage of us all. I shall never forget that scene. The road ran through an open field which was dotted here and there with dead and wounded men. There were all the grim tokens of the rear of a desperate battle, straggling men, cannon without horses and with broken carriages, battle smoke in the air, and the sound of a gun which was out of sight in front accompanied by the howl of grape shot. We halted here a few moments to give the stragglers time to come up, and to give all a chance to breathe after our exhausting march. Besides the men that were lying around us wounded, others were coming out of the woods in front limping and bleeding. They greeted us with such cheering a.s.surances as "You'll get enough in there," "Better throw away them knapsacks, you won't want 'em in there."

"Before us there was a dark forest of great hemlocks, and I can see yet the lurid light of the setting sun through the trees and the powder smoke; and I remember that the question came into my mind, "I wonder if I shall ever see another setting sun." I did not, of course, give any outward sign of such thoughts. I had enough to do to inspire my men with courage, telling them we must sell our lives at a high price. But I have heard some of the regiment, who went through many subsequent battles, say that that was the dismalest battle they ever saw.

"Down into the narrow road, through the dark hemlocks we pa.s.sed. It was full of powder smoke, which with the dark foilage, shut out most of the daylight that remained. There was a solitary gun away off on our right, whose occasional boom sounded like a knell.

"We came out of the woods on the right side of a clear field where a portion of the afternoon battle had raged, and lay down by the side of the road, conscious that we were in a ticklish place. There was occasional firing over us into the field, and once in a while a bullet dropped near us. But this soon ceased and the battlefield, as a whole, was quiet, and I began to hope that the battle was over. But our colonel was of another mind. He had reported for orders to Gen. Robinson of Kearney's division. The twilight was deepening and the stars were out, when the order came, "Get up men, STEADY NOW, FORWARD, March!" Every man sprang to his feet. Quickly we were over the fence with bayonets at a charge, and when we were well in the field the regiment made a half right wheel towards a piece of woods on the other side. I was neither depressed nor elated, but it was a relief to be in motion with my company. I was simply in the line of duty, responsible for myself and my company. I remember how finely the regiment marched across that field through the shadows and the smoke to unknown horrors beyond. We advanced to within two or three rods of the woods and lay down. It was too dark by this time for us to see whether the woods were occupied or not, but after a brief interval we learned all about it. While we were all on the qui vive, wondering what would come next, a voice broke forth from the woods clear and distinct, "What regiment is that?" Every heart stood still. Who would answer? And what would he say? To my astonishment and dismay one of our men piped out, "Sixty-first New York." Then came the bl.u.s.tering reply, "Lay down your arms, or I'll blow you all to h.e.l.l."

Instantly we were on our feet, and by the time the orator in the woods had finished speaking his little piece our men had poured in a volley before they were ready for us. This must have seriously damaged them, for their return volley was lighter than I expected. There was nothing for us to do however, but to fall back a few rods, loading and firing.

We soon halted however, and settled down to the grim game of give and take in the growing darkness. The flashes of their muskets were all that our men had to guide their aim. It was dismal business. Our line grew thinner, and I noticed that my company was melting away before me.

Anxious to hurt somebody I drew my revolver and emptied one barrel into the woods, but then considered that I might want the rest for closer work before we got through, and put it up again. Soon I felt a smarting pain in my left knee and sat down a few paces apart to see what made it.

Finding it only a buckshot I hastened back to my company, but it took that buckshot wound six weeks to heal. It seems to me now as if I had not been back with my company more than a minute when crash came a blow on my right leg, just above the knee, like the blow of a huge club.

There was no mistaking that. I dropped because I had to, and I lay flat on my back so as to avoid other bullets, and waited for further developments. Those were solemn moments for me, and yet not so terrible as one might suppose. They were not at all dreadful. I was just waiting to see if I was going to die from loss of blood, not knowing but an artery was severed. I distinctly remember thinking that I would hardly turn my hand over for the choice, whether to rise presently to a new heavenly home, or to struggle back through unknown sufferings to my old earthly home. But after a few moments the instinctive desire to live in the body prevailed. I saw that I was not going to bleed to death, so I called a couple of men to carry me back to the road away from the firing line. In doing this, one of them put his arms under my knees, and the pain in the wound soon became so frightful that I begged them to lay me down and let me die. They carried me to the road however, a short distance, and there left me.

"So there I lay on my back, looking up to the quiet stars and listening to the combat which was still going on. This is a narrative of personal experiences and feelings, designed for family use, and so it is in order for me to tell how I felt as I lay there. It might be expected that I should say that I was longing to be back in the fight impatient to be leading my brave men up to the muzzles of the enemy's muskets. But if I were to say so I would lie. As I lay there, I was not all smitten by a fit of the heroics nor anything of that kind. I was tired, almost exhausted by the exertion and excitement of the day, two days in fact.

And it felt fine to just lie still there and rest. As long as I kept still my wound did not pain me much. I hated bullets and had no appet.i.te for glory or promotion, and it was a relief to lie there out of range of the detestable mines. Moreover, I had full confidence that my men would give a good account of themselves, whether I was with them or not. There was satisfaction too, in feeling that I was through, that I had kept in the line of duty until I was shot and disabled, and that I had given to my country all that she asked of me in the shooting line of endeavor, and could now take up life again on a new basis. To be sure there were some chances against my getting safe home again, but I had a cheerful confidence that I should be able to pull through somehow. I have often been amused while thinking of my feelings as I lay there across the middle of the road. The prevailing sensation was one of relief. I was no cow-boy or rough-rider. I was just an ordinary patriot and student, ready to bleed and die if need be for my country, but never spoiling for a fight. And I know that many of my bravest comrades were made of the same stuff.

"My greatest want just then was water, and that I couldn't get it until a rebel supplied me next morning. Even when our regiment came back to the road where I lay, or what was left of it, no one could get a drop for me. Colonel Barlow came to me after the fighting was over, and showed all the tenderness of a brother, letting me see a side of his nature that I had never known anything about before. He deplored the fact that there was no way by which he could have me carried off and kept within our lines. And so, after having me moved to the side of the road, and after my friends had come and talked with me and bade me good-bye, that splendid little regiment marched away about two o'clock in the morning, and left me to reach home, nearly dead, after about twenty-four days, by the way of Libby prison.

"The Sixty-first New York left about one-third of their number dead or wounded on that field, including six out of its nine officers, of whom three lost one leg each, and one of them died in Libby prison. Only a month of fighting and its numbers were reduced from 432 to about 150.

"Dropping now the personal narrative, let us in the briefest sketch, follow that plucky little regiment under its peerless commanders.

"See them the very next day at Malvern Hill, again enduring the pounding of artillery until nearly night, and again in open field engaging the enemy under cover of the woods until they had fired 90 rounds per man and were all ready to charge with bayonets if required.

"See them at Antietam, with the ranks replenished from the hospital and recruiting offices, under the cool and skilful leading of their colonel, getting advantage of a whole rebel brigade where there was a deep cut in the road, and, after slaughtering many of them, actually capturing about three hundred prisoners, more than they themselves numbered. There they lost their intrepid colonel, Barlow, by a desperate wound and subsequent promotion.

"But he was succeeded by a soldier equally brave and gallant, Lieut.

Colonel Nelson A. Miles, who in the battle of Fredericksburg led them to the useless slaughter at the foot of Marye's Heights, until a b.l.o.o.d.y wound in his neck spared the regiment a desperate attempt to get a little nearer than other regiments to the invincible lines of the enemy.

"See them at Chancellorsville, with Miles again leading in a brilliant fight on the skirmish line.

"See the devoted little company in the Wheat Field at Gettysburg, hardly a company all told now--only 93--baring their b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the storm of Confederate bullets and leaving 62 of their number, two-thirds, among the killed and wounded.

"Nearly a year later, after 600 recruits had made it nearly a new regiment, see it keeping up its old reputation for hard fighting in the Wilderness campaign, losing 36 at Corbin's Bridge and 13 at Po River, and then at the famous b.l.o.o.d.y Angle at Spottsylvania, having a place of honor and peril in one of the two leading brigades which scaled the rebel works and took between three and four thousand prisoners. Then see them at Cold Harbor sacrificing 22 of their number in a b.l.o.o.d.y repulse in that useless slaughter.

"In the siege of Petersburg see them in repeated engagements. At Ream's Station, when one regiment after another of recruits gave way, Walker tells us that Gen. Miles, commanding a division, 'calling up a portion of his own old regiment the Sixty-first New York which still remained firm, threw it across the breastworks, at right angles, and commenced to fight his way back, leading the regiment in person. Only a few score of men--perhaps 200 in all--stood by him; but with these he made ground, step by step, until he had retaken Dauchey's battery, and had recaptured a considerable portion of the line, actually driving the enemy into the railroad cut.'

"At last at Farmsville, only a day before the end of the struggle, this regiment sealed its devotion to the flag by the loss of four killed, including one captain, and twelve wounded.

"In the round up of Lee's army culminating at Appomatax, two divisions of the corps were commanded by Sixty-first men. Barlow commanded one and Miles the other, and between them they fought the last infantry battle of the Army of the Potomac."

"In Colonel Fox's admirable a.n.a.lysis of the Regimental Losses during the Civil war, he shows that the Sixty-first New York came very near having a place among the forty-five regiments that lost over two hundred men, killed or mortally wounded in action during the war. Its actual loss was 193, including 16 officers. He says: 'The Sixty-first had the good fortune and honor to be commanded by men who proved to be among the ablest soldiers of the war. They made brilliant records as colonels of this regiment, and, being promoted, achieved a national reputation as division generals. The Sixty-first saw an unusual amount of active service and hard fighting. It served through the war in a division that was commanded successively by Generals Richardson, (killed at Antietam), Hanc.o.c.k, Caldwell, Barlow and Miles, and any regiment that followed the fortunes of these men was sure to find plenty of b.l.o.o.d.y work cut out for it."

In the place we were marched to we lay down. Very soon the fifty men under Captains Broady and Mount, who had been detached, joined the forty or so of us making all told a fighting force of from ninety to one hundred men. Most, if not all the men, except those on guard, went to sleep.