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

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 149 lines and 12732 words, and 3 pages

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.

But it was not to be, for on the 6th of December we had to leave our snug quarters and start off on the march, taking three days rations, and forty rounds of ammunition. We marched but three miles that day, and camped for the night by the roadside, not a very pleasant place on a cold winter's night.

Next day, after marching twelve miles, we found ourselves on the bank of the Nottoway river. We crossed it at midnight, and reached Sussex courthouse about daylight; stopped for breakfast, and after a short rest, resumed our march. At three o'clock in the afternoon we reached the Weldon railroad, about five miles from Jarrett's Station.

Here we began tearing up the rails, and destroyed the road for about fifteen miles. We burned the sleepers, heated the rails in the flame, and twisted them all out of shape; some we wound around trees, and rendered them all completely useless. It was a long, hard job, and the second night found us bivouacked along the wrecked railroad.

On the 10th we started on our return to the front of Petersburg. Through snow and slush we marched twenty miles, stopping at night near Sussex courthouse. On this return march we had to live on the country, as we had taken but three days' rations, and were gone six days. Soon after starting we found three of our boys on the piazza of a house, with their throats cut. Apple jack was plenty, and they had probably drank too much and laid down, and were killed during their sleep.

We were wild with rage, and the murderers would have fared hard, had they fell into our hands. We buried our murdered comrades, and burned the house. We received orders to burn all the houses along the route except one, in which lived a well known Union man. Here I was left with a file of men as a safe guard until all our forces had passed. When we left, we received the heartfelt thanks of the women of the household.

On the 12th we again went into camp on the Jerusalem plank road, half a mile from our starting point. Here we again built our shanties, which we were allowed to consider as our homes for some time. The rest was very welcome, and it gave us time to write to our friends, and receive letters from home. I will close this chapter with an extract from my diary.

HATCHER'S RUN.

We know not what may be our lot, When future days have crowned us; There's One above, whose arm of love, We hope may e'er surround us.

Goodbye! We go to meet the foe, The flag we love floats o'er us; Its stars are bright, we'll win the fight, While treason falls before us.

New Years day 1865 found the 32nd Mass. living in their log huts on the Jerusalem plank road, one mile in rear of our line of works in front of Petersburg. Here we worked building and strengthening our works, taking turns so that the work went steadily on night and day. Thus we lived until late in the afternoon of Feb. 4th, when we received orders to move next morning at daybreak.

We imagined it was to be another railroad raid, and we left our huts standing, expecting to return to them; but in this we were mistaken. We started at daylight on the 5th, and marched all day, reaching Nottoway courthouse about sunset. Here we camped, and pickets were sent out, but were recalled at midnight, and we again took up our line of march, arriving early in the morning at a stream called Hatcher's run, at a point where it crossed the Vaughn road, and where the Second corps had fought the rebels the day before, while we were marching to re-enforce them.

We were ordered into some rifle pits on the opposite side of the stream, out of which the enemy had been driven. I will try to describe my own experience in the battle that took place on February 6th, called by some historians the battle of Dabney's Mills, but known to us by the name of Hatcher's Run.

Our regiment was on the extreme right of the Fifth corps, connecting with the Second corps. About two o'clock in the afternoon, Crawford's division advanced from our left across our front and engaged the enemy. Two hours later the veteran brigade was called upon to fill a gap in Crawford's line.

We were in the rear, listening to the roar of battle, and pitying our comrades fighting so desperately in front of us, not knowing what moment our turn would come. General Warren sent an aid to General Griffin, our brigade commander, with orders to bring us to the front.

The bugle blew the fall-in call, and away we went into the storm of death. We marched left in front. When we reached the line engaged and passed through, the order came,

"File left! Right face!"

Bringing us into line of battle.

"Forward, double quick!"

On we went, not firing a shot. As our ranks were thinned by the sharp fire poured upon us,

"Close to the right!"

came the order, and we obeyed until we could go no farther, then came our turn, and we settled down to business.

The locality of the fight was in a grove of pines, where we could not see what was going on around us, and unknown to us, a fresh body of rebel troops drove back our main line of battle, and we were left alone. Before we fell back we saw a Johnnie Reb give a signal that he wanted to come into our lines; in he came, and informed us that,

"You uns will have to get out of this right smart, for they are putting the whole of Mahone's division in front and on the flanks of you uns!" And in a short time I thought the whole rebel army was there!

Our little brigade was pushed back, fighting all the way, with heavy loss. Our regiment lost 74 men in killed, wounded, and missing. The 155th Pennsylvania was on our right, and that too lost heavily. Here Major Shepard was taken prisoner; the major, orderly of my company and myself were on the extreme right, and were so busily engaged that we did not notice that the line was falling back, until it was quite a distance from us. I informed the major, and when we three started to run, the rebs were not fifty feet away.

The major's scabbard tripped him and he fell; I looked back over my shoulder and saw a reb on each side of him, and knew he was a prisoner. This lent wings to my feet, and I expected every moment to feel a hand on my coat collar jerking me back, but I kept on, and the orderly and I reached the edge of the woods to find an attempt was being made to rally, in order to save an ammunition wagon from falling into the hands of the enemy.

But the attempt was a failure; it was nearly dark, and some of the new troops in the second line of battle, seeing us emerge from the woods, took us to be the Johnnies, and fired into us. At least half a dozen were killed or wounded by this volley, and this completed the disaster, for no troops, veteran or not, could be expected to rally when attacked on all sides, so we kept on until we reached our line of works.

Here we remained until the 11th, with the enemy's artillery making it very uncomfortable for us, then we moved to the rear about two miles, and camped for the night. Next day our tents and knapsacks came from our old camp, and we again began building our winter quarters. Here on the 18th of February as I was building a chimney to my shanty, I received a sergeant's warrant dated the 4th, and on the 20th I acted as sergeant of the guard for the first time.

On the 22nd we received orders to be ready to move at a moment's notice, and that no more furloughs were to be given, and everything looked as though another fight was at hand, but we remained here until the opening of the final campaign of the war.

ON FURLOUGH.

Home from the battlefield For a brief rest; Oh, what emotion fills The soldier's breast.

Leaving his northern home, Where all is peace, Back to the battle-plain 'Till war shall cease.

About the 18th of February I sent in an application for a furlough; I hardly expected to get it, as all furloughs had been refused, except in some cases, where an exceptional reason was urged, or strong influence brought to bear. I felt, after the hard experience of the past year, and with the prospect of another campaign full as hard, that a brief furlough was what I needed, so I could but try for one, which I did, and on Sunday the 26th of the same month, received a furlough for twenty days.

We had been paid off the day previous, and it did not take me long to prepare for the homeward trip. I said goodbye to my comrades and left for City Point that afternoon. None of the precious time must be wasted, so I made no stops on my journey home.

I left City Point on the morning of the 27th, on the steamer Daniel Webster, arriving at Fortress Munroe at four P. M., and an hour later left for Baltimore, arriving there at seven o'clock next morning; immediately left for New York, which place I reached at six o'clock that evening and took the train for home; traveled all night, and arrived at New Bedford on the morning of March 1st, where I was warmly welcomed by my friends.

Oh how pleasant seemed the dear old quiet city, after the terrible experience of the year that is past! And how quickly passed the time away! I paid a visit to my brother, now living in New Hampshire, and had a very enjoyable time. I spent the remainder of my time at home with my father, and among my friends, who could hardly do enough to make the time pass happily away.

Then too, I found that in the north, a soldier seemed to be considered of some account, and often strangers as they passed me in the street, had a pleasant word for the war-worn soldier in his faded suit of army blue.

All too soon the time arrived when I must bid my friends goodbye. On the 16th of March I started for the front once more. I cannot dwell on the parting with my poor old father who seemed to feel that he would never see me again. But he was spared to welcome me home after the war was over, for which I still feel very thankful. It would have been a sad home-coming had he not been there to welcome me.

On my arrival in Boston, as I had a few hours to wait, I went to the State house to take a look at our old battle-flag. What memories were awakened by that torn and smoky piece of silk, all that was left of the starry flag that I had followed for two long years. I felt sad at parting, "It might be for years, and it might be forever," and it was not a very cheerful journey back to the front. I reached my regiment on the 19th of March, and received a warm welcome from the boys of my company, and especially from my tentmate, Dwight Graves, who prepared a good supper of fried hardtack and pork in honor of my arrival, and to which he, at least, did ample justice.

I presented him with a piece of frosted cake, sent him by a lady friend, which he considered a rare treat, and persisted in calling "Wedding cake!" It took me several days to settle down to army life, and army diet, but the stern discipline and hard service soon brought back my appetite, and my readiness to do whatever was required of me.

About eight o'clock in the morning of the 25th, we were ordered to fall in and move to the right, for the enemy had attacked us in that quarter; then moved to the left and attacked them; hard fighting continued all day, without food or rest. This fight was called the battle of Fort Stedman.

We returned to camp about midnight, where we remained until the 29th, when we broke camp early in the morning, and marched until noon. We stopped two hours for dinner and rest, then started again, and went until five P. M. Here we had another encounter with the enemy, and drove them some distance. We then moved to the front, and built works until midnight, and laid behind them until morning, when we again moved onward. I little thought as I slung my equipments and started on the march, that this was to be my last day of active service.

WOUNDED.

Upon that southern battle-field, One well remembered day, I wore the loyal Union blue, And he, the rebel gray; All day in conflict fierce and wild, Were mingled blue and gray, And when night came, both he and I, Among the wounded lay,

Our line of march led us in the direction of the Boydton plank road, and on the morning of March 30th the 32nd was detailed for the skirmish line. It was a rainy day, but we soldiers could not stop for the weather. About two o'clock in the afternoon, we sighted the enemy's pickets, and then firing began in earnest. All went well with me until about three o'clock, when I felt something strike my foot, not realizing that it was a bullet until I saw the jagged holes where it went in and out, breaking the bones as it went.

I stood and considered a moment whether to go to the rear or not, and finally decided to go back, get the surgeon to dress my wound, and then return to my company. It was quite a distance back to the rear, and I had to drop my gun and sit down to rest by the way. As I did so, I saw my colonel, who stopped and asked me if I was much hurt.

"Oh no," I replied, "Only slight, I will soon be back."

"I am glad it is no worse," he replied, and on he went.

I found the surgeon, had my foot bound up, and started to go back to my company.

"Where are you going?" asked the surgeon.

"No you're not! Get on to that stretcher!" was the order, and I was obliged to obey, though I did not see the need of it; my foot did not pain me, only felt numb, and I felt a little weak and tired, which could hardly be wondered at. I was carried to the ambulance and taken to the field hospital, where I sat and waited for my turn to come. Meanwhile I saw such horrible wounds, that I can never forget or describe. It was a hard trial, for I was waiting for my turn to be operated upon, not knowing whether I would lose my foot or not.

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet