Read Ebook: Memories of the Civil War by James Henry B

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Ebook has 149 lines and 12732 words, and 3 pages

n the skirmish line!"

While I stood waiting a few moments for the skirmishers to get together, I noticed a Johnny Reb walking over to our line; I thought he wanted to come in, so I shouted to him to come on in; he stopped and looked at me a moment as though surprised, then turned on his heel, and walked back from whence he came, taking no notice of my invitation to come in, and threat to shoot him if he didn't. I would not have shot the brave fellow anyway, and I watched him walk deliberately back until he reached the works, when he leaped over them and ran for the woods like a deer. We concluded that he was a straggler who had been asleep somewhere, and did not know of the changed conditions, and thought his side still held the advanced line; at any rate, he found out the difference before it was too late.

Only a few moments elapsed before we were ready for the start, and away we went, expecting every minute the rebels would rise above their works, and put an end to us all. But all was quiet in front, so we kept on until we stood upon their works, and found that during the night the enemy had left for parts unknown. Upon a cracker box cover they had left the loving message,

"Come on, you damned Yanks to Richmond, but you will find it a rough road to travel, with a Hill, and two Longstreets to go over before you get there!"

You can imagine how surprised we were to find the works abandoned that our leaders had thought it impossible to capture by assault, and how thankful we were that we had not made the charge that the enemy had evidently expected, and so had prudently withdrawn, under cover of darkness. They had succeeded in removing their battery that had so raked us all day, but the heap of dead horses, a dozen or more, that lay near the position they had occupied, showed that they had made several attempts before they accomplished their purpose.

THE NORFOLK RAILROAD.

What wonder if the mouth is grim, That said so many swift "Goodbyes?" Life's common words are idle breath, Beside those earnest battle cries. What wonder if the gaze is dim, And yonder strangely lingers yet? The eye that has looked straight at death, His image may not soon forget!

On the 12th of June, General Grant changed his plan of operations, and started us off for the James river. Our corps crossed the Chickahominy river at Long Bridge, marched southward to the James river, and on the 16th of June, the Army of the Potomac was on the right bank of the James, preparing for a fresh start in another direction. As we went up in front of Petersburg on the 18th of June, we were double quicked across an open field, and made a dash on the Norfolk railroad, where we made a stand.

It was in this charge that our beloved colonel, George L. Prescott, fell mortally wounded, while leading his men. He died the next day, and the whole brigade mourned his loss; he was a brave soldier, and a good man; always kind to his men, he treated them like brothers.

His body was brought home, and buried with his kindred in Sleepy Hollow cemetery, at Concord, Mass. I have visited his grave since the war, and as I stood in the pleasant spot where he sleeps so peacefully, I could but recall the memories of that terrible scene, when he laid his life on the altar of his country.

We had hot work all that day; again we charged the enemy, and drove them into their last line of works. This enabled us to establish our line on the crest of the hill. Near this place the mine was made that was exploded on the 30th of July, a little over a month later.

It was in this charge that a minie ball grazed my check, which soon swelled so that my comrades hardly recognized me. For a week or more, my jaw was rather stiff and sore, so that I could not eat hard bread; this made it rather inconvenient, as I was blessed with a good appetite and could not get much else but the old reliable "Hard tack" to eat, but I was not disabled, and did my duty as usual.

It was about noon, during a lull in the fight, that we saw a large turkey strut proudly into the centre of a deep ravine, that lay between us and the enemy's lines. Instantly every musket in our company was aimed at that poor turkey gobbler. When the smoke cleared away, we saw him still undisturbed in his foraging; we stood astonished until one of us happened to remember that our guns were sighted for 200 yards distance. He hastily lowered the sight, and spang went the deadly messenger into the heart of that devoted bird. When the fight was over, we picked up the fowl, and cooked him for our supper.

That night we spent in throwing up earthworks with our bayonets and tin plates, and by morning we had some works from which the enemy could not drive us, though they made several attempts. Our works were never advanced beyond this line until Petersburg was taken.

EXTRACTS FROM MY DIARY.

Such is the price with which we bought A country! And our sons here see How faithfully the fathers wrought, For manhood, peace, and liberty.

And you, ye sons, as here you tread, And on our graves your tribute lay, That ye be worthy of such dead, Forget not till the latest day.

At six o'clock this morning we charged across a field about a quarter of a mile; fighting began, and we had it hot and heavy until dark. Our loss was very heavy, and of my company, Warren P. Locke, and Makepeace C. Young are killed, and Hazen, Kennison, Robinson, Melvin, Parsons, Beals, Uffindale, and Fuller are wounded. Oh, may their names be ever honored by those who love their country!

PETERSBURG.

"And this is what it means, to earn The title 'Veteran' on a coat; To march through flood and field, or lie Where rebel rifles sweep the moat; To serve the guns in rifle pits; To sleep beneath the silent sky; To dream of home, and wake to war; To see a comrade drop and die; To hear and heed the fearful song Which whistling minie bullets sing; To faint and fall, and longing lie, For one cool draught from rocky spring."

After our line of entrenchments was established, our brigade was ordered to the rear, and we encamped along the Jerusalem plank road, where we were held in reserve for special duty. Here we worked day and night building a large earthen fort, which we named in honor of our lamented Col. Prescott. Here Major Edmunds was appointed colonel, and took command of the regiment.

We remained in reserve about three weeks, during which time we were called upon to re-enforce the Second and Sixth Corps, on two occasions. On July 12th we were ordered into the trenches, where we lived in bomb proofs for five weeks, one of the hardest experiences of my army life. These bomb proofs were a sort of artificial cavern, which we had to construct under cover of darkness, for the enemy was continually sending over to our lines solid shot and hissing shells, and only in our bomb proofs, were we out of danger from them.

To build a bomb proof we dug a hole in the ground about four feet deep if the ground was dry, but where our regiment was located it was so springy that two feet brought us to water so most of ours were partly above ground; after the hole is dug, the top was roofed over with logs, and dirt thrown on top of them. A small space was left open towards our rear for a door to go in and out of, which was sheltered by a log canopy. Here we had to stay, and hot, uncomfortable, and unhealthy places they proved to be, and it is no wonder that many of our men were taken from them to the hospital, sick with malarial fever, from which some of them never recovered.

I remember one hot night, my chum and I pitched a tent two or three steps in the rear of our bomb proof under a pine tree, and there we went to sleep. Before morning, the active enemy in front began shelling our line, and we were awakened by the falling of the branches upon our tent, having been cut off by a passing shot. Soon another shot came and struck the tree, and my bedfellow made one leap out of the tent into the bomb proof. The next shot struck the tree still lower, and I too forsook my bed for the safer, though uncomfortable hole in the ground.

Sometimes, when the guns in front of us were silent, we would sit on the bomb proofs in the evening, and watch the shells of the enemy, as they came over on to some other part of our entrenchments. It was a beautiful sight, far beyond any fireworks I have ever witnessed, if we could only forget their deadly errand.

On the 30th of July occurred the explosion of the Burnside mine, that we had made by digging a passage to and under one of the rebel forts, and laying powder enough to destroy it. The plan had been carefully laid, and an attack contemplated simultaneous with the explosion, which would carry their line.

The blowing up of that mine was a horrible affair, and caused much slaughter, but for some reason, the attack was not a success. The artillery opened all along our line, on that eventful morning, as a signal for the beginning of the fight.

Near our bomb proof was a battery, which was so located that in firing, it would rake the rebel picket line on our left. The Captain of the battery knew that the first round would almost annihilate them, and wanted to give them a chance for their lives, so he wrote a note, telling them if they would leave their position and come over to us, they would save their lives; he then called for a volunteer to carry the note. Instantly a brave boy of our regiment stepped forward. He was told that it was a dangerous mission, and that he was risking his life, for he would certainly be shot at. His only reply was,

"Give me the message, I will go."

Holding up the white paper, he deliberately walked across the open space to the rebel picket line, handed one of them the note, saying,

"Here you Johnnies, read that!"

He came back at the same moderate pace and strangely enough, was not shot at going or coming. All seemed astonished into silence at his daring, but he was loudly cheered, when he reached our line in safety.

The warning was in vain; the brave fellows would not desert their post, neither would they retreat without orders. Again came the order to rake their line; the order was obeyed, and two-thirds of the poor men were swept into eternity.

The captain of the battery was disgusted with such butchery. He could have fired on an advancing foe without scruple, but to fire on a thin picket line was too cold blooded for him, and he swore that he would not fire another shot in that direction, and he kept his word.

PEEBLE'S FARM.

On the 16th of August we were relieved from the trenches. On the 18th we made an attack on the Weldon railroad, in order to cut off the supplies of the rebel forces in front of Petersburg. In this action our regiment lost thirteen men. The railroad was too strongly guarded for our attempt to succeed.

We were called upon frequently to repel attacks from the enemy, and continually kept busy until the 1st of September, when we were again ordered to the trenches for a few days. We were soon relieved however, for our services were required in another direction.

On the 30th of September the Fifth and Ninth corps made a charge on the rebel Fort McRea. We formed our line in a piece of woods, bringing the 32nd Massachusetts directly in front of the fort, and the 4th Michigan on our right. We had to cross an open field, and the enemy's batteries opened on us directly, but we went on steadily until we were in range of the rebel rifles, then we made a dash, and soon reached the fort.

Our colonel received a wound in the leg, and Col. Welch of the 4th Michigan fell mortally wounded. The first to mount the parapet was an officer of our regiment; he jumped the deep ditch in front of the fort, and swinging his sword above his head, shouted to us to follow him; he was followed by several officers, who jumped the ditch and rushed into the fort. We soon followed them, though being encumbered with our equipments, we could not as easily jump the ditch as the officers. I jumped into the moat, and shouted to a Johnny Reb to help me up the slope; he shook his head, so I brought my gun to my shoulder and threatened to shoot him. He reached out his hand and helped me up the bank.

Corporal Lewis Chesbro of my company, instead of climbing the bank, ran around to the rear of the fort, where he saw a rebel gunner sighting a piece of artillery towards a portion of our division that had not reached the works. Chesbro instantly shot the gunner, then tried in vain to turn the piece around. Seeing me inside the fort, he called for me to help him. Together we turned it partly round and sighted it at another of the rebel pieces of artillery, with which they were trying to escape.

The shot killed the two lead horses; the driver jumped down and cut the dead horses clear and managed to save the gun for us to face again the same day. After we had taken the first line of works, the Ninth corps passed to the front to take the second line. General Charles S. Griffin our commander, told us that we had done our duty well, and had done enough for one day, so we stacked arms and dropped down to rest.

Just at dusk, an aide came riding swiftly to our line, with the message that the left of the troops in front of us had broke, and our assistance was wanted. The order came clear and sharp:

"Fall in! Take arms! Left face! Forward double quick, march!"

General Griffin took the lead, shouting,

"Follow me!"

Away we went to where the troops had broke, and oh, what confusion! Shells bursting, men running here and there, every one for himself, and above all the noise was heard the rebel yell, once heard, never to be forgotten.

Our brigade passed through the retreating men, and began firing, to check if possible, the enemy's advance. This we did, and drove them back to their old position.

Here I saw a sight which in all the confusion and excitement thrilled me with admiration, something not often seen in action under any circumstances. The 155th Pennsylvania regiment of our brigade was on our right, firing by rank, and as cool as if on dress parade, and they continued so to do until we retired, leaving the recovered position for the Ninth corps to hold. Griffin's "Fighting brigade" was composed of seasoned veterans, and of them all, none were braver or bolder than the 155th Penn. volunteers.

WELDON RAILROAD.

The whizzing shell may burst in fire, The shrieking bullets fly The heavens and earth may mingle grief, The gallant soldier die, But while a haughty rebel stands, No peace! For peace is war. The land that is not worth our death, Is not worth living for!

As the weather grew colder, we went into winter quarters on the Jerusalem plank road, and built ourselves good log huts with chimneys, and proceeded to make ourselves comfortable, hoping we might be allowed to rest awhile.

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