Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel army.

The heavy masses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness. They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points, actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires, from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.

This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with enormous losses.

No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet, notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.

In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded that he could by no possibility assume a cheerful countenance, would shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at the stoical bravery manifested by the northern troops. If one had passed along where our men were lying in rows, he would only now and then have heard a groan escape from some poor fellow who had received a bullet through the abdomen or some such fatal and painful wound. But let a group of wounded rebels be placed in some part of the hospital, and their groans were heart-rending. This contrast is not overdrawn. Every surgeon who has had opportunities to observe the difference in the bearing of wounded men of the two armies, can testify to the greater heroism of the northern soldier at such times.



CHAPTER XX.

PURSUIT OF LEE'S ARMY.

Scenes of the field of Gettysburgh—The rebel hospitals—The sightless rebel soldier boy—The Sixth corps at Fairfield—"Hurrah for the Union"—Kilpatrick's handiwork—At Waynesboro'—On picket—A division of militia—The Vermonters at Funkstown—The army at Funkstown—Meade's failure to attack—New York riots—Return to Virginia.

The battle was over and the invading army which had suffered such a crushing defeat, had only to gather up its shattered remnants and hastily retrace its steps southward. We were in no condition to renew immediate hostilities. Every man and every gun had been brought into service. Never before had all of our army been fought at once. At Gettysburgh, every man of the infantry reserve, and every gun of the reserve artillery had been brought into action. The men were exhausted by their tedious marches and hard fighting, while our ammunition was well nigh spent.

During the night of the 4th of July, Lee's army retreated, and on the morning of the 5th, our Sixth corps, Sedgwick's cavalry as the corps was called, was sent in pursuit on the Fairfield road. The battle-field was horrible. Dead men were thickly strewed over the fields with their faces blackened, and eyes starting from their sockets; and upturned, swollen horses lay, sometimes in groups of six or eight, showing where some battery had suffered fearfully. As we passed the scene of the conflict on the left, at the foot of Round Top, was a scene more than usually hideous. Blackened ruins marked the spot where, on the morning of the third, stood a large barn. It had been used as a hospital. It had taken fire from the shells of the hostile batteries, and had quickly burned to the ground. Those of the wounded not able to help themselves were destroyed by the flames, which in a moment spread through the straw and dry material of the building. The crisped and blackened limbs, heads and other portions of bodies lying half consumed among the heaps of ruins and ashes, made up one of the most ghastly pictures ever witnessed, even on the field of battle. But we passed these direful scenes to meet with others of less shocking but still sad character. Every house and barn from Gettysburgh to Fairfield was a hospital; and about most of the large barns, numbers of dilapidated hospital tents served to increase the accommodations for the wounded.

All of the worst cases were left in these hospitals, the number being estimated, by the rebel surgeons in charge, at no less than fifteen thousand. Never had we witnessed such sad scenes as we were passing through to-day. The confederate surgeons were doing what they could for their wounded, but they were destitute of medicines and surgical appliances, and even food sufficient to supply those in their charge. At one of these barns some of our officers stopped, and as they passed among the gray-clad sufferers who were lying in rows upon the barn floors, one, a boy apparently not more than sixteen years of age, attracted the notice of one of the company, a surgeon. The lad looked more like a delicate girl than a soldier; his hair fell from his fair forehead in long flaxen curls upon his pillow of straw, some of them matted with blood; his cheek was rosy, and his soft white hand told of a youth spent amid more tender scenes than those of the camp. A piece of linen laid across his face covered a ghastly wound where a ball had passed through his face, and had torn both his eyes from their sockets.

The surgeon spoke a kind word to the youth, who stretched out his hand, saying, "Come near me, I want to touch you." The doctor stooped over him, and the boy, pressing his hand in his own, said, "You are a friend, are you not?" "Yes, I am a friend to all the unfortunate." "But are you not a confederate?" "No." The boy clung to the hand of the surgeon in silence for a moment, and then said slowly, "I did not think a federal would speak so kindly to me; your voice sounds like that of a friend, and your hand feels like one; will you not stay with me?" When the other told him that he must follow his command, he replied: "Oh! I shall never hear any one speak so kindly to me again; my mother lives in North Carolina, but she will not see me. Can you not stay?" The doctor was far from being a rebel sympathizer, yet he turned away from the poor boy, with a sad face and a deep drawn sigh, to join the moving column.

Early next morning we passed through the somewhat dilapidated village of Fairfield. Our advance threw a few shells down the street, scattering a body of cavalry, which had been left in town, and killing some of the horses attached to their battery. A mile beyond the town the South Mountain range rose in our front, the road running through a narrow pass. Here the rear guard of the rebel army was strongly posted. Neill's and the Jersey brigade advanced against the rebel skirmishers, but after losing some six or eight men they were ordered to halt. General Sedgwick deeming the position too strong to assault with his corps from the front, reported to General Meade that the pass was very strong, and one in which a small force of the enemy could hold in check for a considerable time, a force much larger than its own. The main body of the army, therefore, was moved around their flank by way of Frederick; while Neill's brigade, with Colonel McIntosh's brigade of cavalry and two light batteries, all under command of General Neill, were made to form a flying division to harass the enemy in the rear.

Our march over the mountain that day was by a wild, romantic route, than which none more charming could be asked by tourist in search of nature's wildest moods. Before each little log house by the roadside would stand a wondering group, astonished at seeing such multitudes of men in those secluded regions, where scarcely a dozen travelers usually passed in a week. At one place, as the column was passing a cottage half hidden by sunflowers and flowering beans, those at the head of the column were heard cheering heartily; and, as we advanced, other voices took up the cheer, exciting the curiosity of those behind. In the midst of the noise, sounded a shrill voice; and as we approached, we saw, sitting upon the fence in front of the cottage, a little boy, about four years old, his face flushed with excitement, his flaxen hair flying in the wind, as he was waving his little hat, and with childlike indistinctness shouting in his shrill tones, "Hurrah for 'e Union! Hurrah for 'e Union!"

Soon those in the rear of the line heard those ahead shouting again, and another shrill voice was heard between the cheers of the men. There by the roadside stood an old man, over whom more than eighty years had passed, with voice indistinct with the tremor of age, all excited as the little boy had been, his hair tossed about by the breeze, as with hat swinging he too was shouting, "Hurrah for the Union! Hurrah for the Union!" And the cheers of the multitude again rang in response to the old man's shout. We could but note the similarity and the disparity. One vaguely dreamed of those blessings which the other had fully realized, and for which he had struggled; and the same shout was lifted up by those two children—the one of four, and the other of fourscore—the one with the flaxen curls of childhood, and the other with the white locks of age—the one voice with the shrill treble of infancy, and the other with the high-keyed tones of decrepitude. Those people, who had seen the rebel army pass a few hours before, now felt the value of the Union.

On the summit of the mountain we passed Monterey Springs, a charming summer retreat, where the Pennsylvanians resort to indulge in the sports of trout-fishing and deer-hunting. Passing down the western slope of the mountain, the handiwork of Kilpatrick was strewed along the roadside for miles. As the battle of Gettysburgh drew to a close, and General Meade knew that Lee must retreat toward Virginia, he had sent the dashing Kilpatrick with his brigade of cavalry to harass the rebels in their flight. Reaching these mountains, the cavalry had come upon a long rebel train of wagons and ambulances, hastening with all speed, with their lading of stolen goods and provisions and their wounded men, towards the Potomac. With shouts and cheers the horsemen dashed from the cover of the woods, upon the flying train, shot the leading horses and mules, captured the drivers and remaining animals, appropriated the stolen goods to their own use, and burned the wagons. Now, as we marched down the forest road, the wildness of the scene was heightened by the remains of the ruined wagons which lined the wayside, some burned, some with the wheels disabled by cutting the spokes, others tumbled off the steep embankment. For more than three miles, these remnants of the rebel trains met our view.

It was near the middle of the afternoon when the column, the army under General Neill, descended into the beautiful Cumberland valley, and arrived at the village of Waynesboro. The people gave our little army a joyous reception, and we encamped at a little distance from the village. One regiment, the Seventy-seventh, was sent on picket on the banks of the Antietam creek, and so pleasant was the duty that the regiment petitioned to be allowed to remain until the army moved, to which request General Neill very graciously assented. Our picketing on the Antietam became one of the bright sports in the history of our campaigning. We were a mile in advance of the other troops, and the picket line was two miles long, so that we were not at all crowded. The weather was fine, the country delightful, and the people kind and hospitable. The most friendly relations sprang up at once between the people and the soldiers, the inhabitants supplying the boys with luxuries, and taking them into their houses as welcome guests, the soldiers on their part guarding the people against the depredations of stragglers and militia.

The grain was ripe for the harvest, and the farmers were short of help; but the boys laid aside their guns, and swung the cradle and the scythe with a zest that showed that they worked with a good will. Day after day the boys of the Seventy-seventh reaped and bound in the fields, while the good ladies worked day and night to make bread and cakes for the veterans, who had so long been accustomed to diet on pork and hard tack. Soft bread, milk, poultry and the staple luxury of Pennsylvania, apple butter, was a glorious improvement on the usual bill of camp fare, and kind sympathizing Union people were much better calculated to render our stay among them agreeable, than the bitter rebels among whom we had so long been.

The left wing of our extended picket line was under command of Major Babcock, who, with the line officers of his part of the picket, established head-quarters at the house of a miller, whose comfortable rooms and well filled larder afforded substantial inducements to our friends; but the great attractions at the miller's house were doubtless the three charming daughters, whose merry faces and bewitching eyes rejoiced the hearts of our gay major and his associates. Word came to the right of the line that our friends on the left were in the enjoyment of far more than the usual allowance of pleasure for men on picket, and thither started the colonel and the doctor, and our friend, Colonel Connor, of the Seventh Maine, to investigate the matter. Riding through a lovely region, now rising to the summit of some gentle eminence, from whence they could look away upon the surrounding country, its rich fields of grain ready for the harvest, its charming groves of oak, and its neat farm houses, making up a most delightful landscape, now descending into some green valley where babbling brooks danced over pebbly beds, and now reining up to listen to the complaint of some cottagers, who said that "the militia were robbing them of their pigs and their poultry, and but for the old soldiers, who were perfect gentlemen, they would be stripped of everything they had;" now fording the bright waters of the Antietam, and anon halting to converse with some group of men who were reclining beneath the shadow of some clump of chestnuts or oaks, doing picket duty as amateurs, the party at length arrived at the miller's house, nestled in a pleasant grove by the side of the beautiful river. Here was the major, and here were the happy line officers, and here was the main reserve of the left wing of the picket, all exhibiting the most abundant good humor. Here, also, they found our chaplain, and Chaplain Osborn, of the Forty-third New York. It was evident, at a glance, that the reports of gay soldiering which had reached the right of the line were in no way exaggerated. The miller took the horses, and the party was ushered into the house, when the good lady and her merry daughters welcomed them heartily. The miller brought out his best wines and his biggest apples. The ladies were smiling, the wines were good, and the apples delicious, and the hearts of the soldiers were gladdened. The ladies retired, leaving the gentlemen in possession of the airy sitting-room. They sung Old Hundred, and Coronation, and Lenox, and Cambridge. Now our friend, Colonel Connor, would lead off in a rollicking soldiers' song; then our chaplain would follow with "Benny Havens, Oh!" and all would join in the chorus. Chaplain Osborn, of the Forty-third, could tell a good story, and relish a glass of wine; and so they passed a happy hour, singing and chatting, till called to dinner, where the long table was loaded from the abundance of the miller's stores. Dinner over, the company strolled among the fruit trees and along the banks of the river; but at length, as an end must come to all pleasures, our party, who had left the right of the line in the morning, galloped back to their quarters, satisfied that picket duty was not necessarily the most vexatious in the service.

The Forty-ninth was provost guard for the town, and a merry time the men had of it. Here in the principal hotel, General Neill established his head-quarters, and in regal style amid flowers and fruits he received the homage of the citizens and soldiers. The remaining regiments of the brigade were stationed in a lovely grove half way between the town and the picket line. They lounged in the shade of their beautiful camp, or strolled to the village or to the picket line on the Antietam. They purchased from the people fruit and bread, apple butter and other luxuries, enjoying a pleasant respite from labors, while the Forty-ninth guarded the town and the Seventy-seventh the river. But notwithstanding all the pleasures of this bright episode in our campaign, the boys were not without a source of annoyance.

Soon after our arrival at Waynesboro, we were joined by a large division of New York and Pennsylvania militia, under our old commander General W. F. Smith, who still held a prominent place in the affections of the boys. The militia was composed mostly of young gentlemen who had left their places behind the counter or at the desk, for the double purpose of lending their aid to their country in its hour of need, and of enjoying a month of what they hoped would be amateur soldiering.

On the evening of their arrival, they were all complaining bitterly of the terrible marches they had endured, and swore they would shoot the general if they ever got into a fight. They had marched all the way from Harrisburgh, to which point they had been brought in cars, at the rate of from eight to fifteen miles a day! In addition to the severe marches, they had been subjected to great privations; many of them had not tasted any butter for more than a week, and nearly all declared that they had absolutely nothing to eat for several days. The writer, who listened to these grievous complaints from some who had been his friends in civil life, pointed to their trains of wagons loaded with boxes of hard bread. "What," replied the militia-men, "You don't expect us to eat that hard tack do you?"

These regiments of militia were undisciplined and unaccustomed to the hard fare of the soldier's life, and the majority of the men took to plundering the inhabitants of the neighboring country, and perpetrating other depredations equally dishonorable in the eyes of the old soldiers. As the veterans constituted the picket and the guard of the town, and were intrusted to guard many of the houses of the citizens outside of the village, they found great annoyance in attempting to resist the incursions of the militia, and rather frequent collisions resulted, in which the old soldiers usually got the best of the encounter.

The citizens very soon learned to look upon the veterans as their friends and their protectors, while they regarded with dread any squad of soldiers that might approach, if they were clad in new uniforms.

But, on the 11th of July, we drew in our picket line, the brigade assembled, and at dark the troops, veterans and militia, were fording the Antietam, the water nearly to their waists. We marched rapidly all night, halting at a place called Leytirsburgh. At daylight next morning, we were again marching. The day was extremely hot, and large numbers of the men fell by the wayside from sun-stroke. At Smithville we fell in with the First corps, which was moving towards Hagerstown, and the hearts of the men were gladdened by the sight of the old familiar flags of the Army of the Potomac. We had been absent from the main body of the army for a week, and it seemed now as though we had fallen in with old friends from whom we had been long separated. Falling in the rear of the First corps, we marched toward Hagerstown. At 2 o'clock a most terrific thunder-storm arose, such as had never overtaken our army, even in Virginia. Huge black clouds rose from the north and from the west and south, and meeting overhead poured down great volumes of water, until the road through which we were marching, and which was bordered by high banks on either side, was filled with a mad torrent which reached to the knees, and in places to the waists of the men. At sunset we reached Funkstown, where the main body of our corps was in line of battle, having yesterday met the rebels and driven them more than a mile. Our friends of the Vermont brigade had, as usual, given a good account of themselves; and the head-boards of pine, here and there among the trees, showed that the victory had not been gained without a struggle.

In marching from Boonsboro towards Funkstown, the Vermont brigade in advance of the corps, the little stream, Beaver Creek, was passed, and General Howe found Buford's cavalry in his advance holding a strong position against the skirmishers of the rebel infantry. At General Buford's request, General Howe sought and obtained permission to send the Vermont brigade to relieve the cavalry. Colonel Lewis with his Fifth Vermont and part of the Second, and Colonel Barney with the Sixth regiment, at once deployed as skirmishers, forming their line two miles long. The Third and Fourth regiments were supporting a battery, and the balance of the Second was held in reserve. They saw the rebel infantry approach a strip of woods in front, and at once advanced and occupied it themselves. Against this long thin line of skirmishers, the rebels opened a severe fire of artillery and musketry, and advanced to drive the skirmishers from their position; but the brave mountaineers never dreaming that a Sixth corps skirmish line could not hold a rebel line of battle, resolutely refused to leave and sent the presumptious rebel line of battle to the rear in confusion; not, however, until Colonel Stoughton with the Fourth and Colonel Seaver with the Third, came forward to the support of the Fifth and Sixth. Again, the rebels, disgusted at being repulsed by a skirmish line, came up in several lines of battle and charged upon the Vermonters and they again went to the rear in confusion. A third charge was made against the obstinate skirmish line, and a third time the attack was broken. Meanwhile a strong force attempting to cross the Antietam and come in on the flank, was repelled by the Second Vermont.

The gallant brigade had repelled Anderson's brigade, of seven large regiments, from its front, and another from its flank.

An instance of a skirmish line, a mile and a half from any support, resisting repeated attacks of troops in line of battle, is rarely found in the history of armies.

The men used from sixty to eighty rounds of cartridge, and when the first supply was exhausted, a fresh one was brought to the front on stretchers.

The victory cost the brigade a loss of nine men killed and fifty-nine wounded, while the enemy lost more than two hundred men.

The men of Neill's brigade were rejoiced to find themselves once more with the glorious old corps, and when their brigade flag, bearing the insignia of the Greek cross, was once more thrown to the breeze, it was greeted with vociferous cheers. Brisk skirmishing was going on along the line, and frequent charges were made by our Union pickets upon the rebel line, which usually resulted in the capture of a greater or less number of the enemy's pickets. All things indicated a great battle on the morrow. The two armies were facing each other in a line in front of Hagerstown, near a hamlet called Funkstown, the line of battle extending several miles. The rebels had occupied the higher grounds, and had thrown up strong earthworks to dispute our progress. Night came on with rain, and all expected to be roused early by the sound of battle. But morning came and passed, and the day wore on with little activity on our part. Here and there skirmishers kept up a rattle of musketry, but no general engagement came on. Much as the veterans, who knew too well the risks of battle, usually dreaded a general engagement, this time there seemed a universal desire, on the part of the men, now to strike a blow which should destroy their adversaries before they should be able to cross the river again.

Deserters and prisoners from the rebel army represented it in a deplorable condition; and the men of the ranks in our army believed that this was the grand opportunity for striking a final blow. And notwithstanding the assertion of general officers that the Potomac was so swollen as to prevent the crossing of the rebel army, there were few privates in our ranks who were not ready to declare that, unless we gave battle at once, the prey would surely escape. Thus, as the day wore on, great dissatisfaction was expressed all along the ranks—men openly and freely cursing the hesitancy which held them back, as they believed, from a certain victory. So, when they arose on the morning of the 14th, to find that there was no enemy in our front, they were more incensed than surprised. There was certainly a very general ill-feeling pervading our army at this easy escape of the rebel army, which even the glorious news of Vicksburg and Port Hudson failed to pacify.

Brisk firing in the vicinity of the Potomac, however, warned us that there were still rebels enough left on the north side of the river to offer some resistance. We learned, late in the day, that the firing was caused by a brilliant charge of Kilpatrick's cavalry upon the rear guard of the rebels at Falling Waters, where they captured several hundreds of prisoners; thus adding one more brilliant success to their many daring achievements during this campaign. Marching until nightfall, we reached Williamsport, and encamped very near the spot that had been our resting-place on a former occasion, nearly a year before.

Why General Lee and his army were allowed to cross the Potomac unmolested, we do not attempt to explain; nor do we condemn the determination of General Meade not to give battle. When men of such well-known military ability and bravery as General Sedgwick advise against a movement, it may be well to hesitate; yet it will doubtless be the verdict of history, that the hesitancy of General Meade at this time was his great mistake.

A hard march on the 15th brought the Sixth corps to Boonsboro, where our Second division encamped on precisely the same ground that we had occupied on the 31st of October last. Neill's brigade made the march at a breakneck pace, leaving the Vermonters far to the rear, who declared that the recent associations of the former with the cavalry had transformed them into a flying brigade. While resting here, a large body of rebel prisoners was marched past. They were mostly those who had been captured by Kilpatrick's men at Falling Waters. The rebels were hungry and destitute of rations. Our men at once divided their rations of hard bread and coffee with them, who, officers and all, declared that it was the best meal they had enjoyed for several days, and expressed themselves greatly pleased with the generosity of their guardians.

Notwithstanding our glorious success at Gettysburgh, and the good news from the west, we were now hearing news that made our hearts sick, and caused the cheeks of the New York soldiers to burn for the disgrace of their native State. It was a source of the deepest mortification to the brave New Yorkers, to feel that their own State and the great metropolis had been outraged by the most disgraceful riot that had ever stained the annals of any State or city in the Union, all for the purpose of overawing the government in its efforts to subdue the rebellion. Our companions from other States, with the generosity that characterizes soldiers, never derided us with this disgrace, but alluded to the riot as an uprising of foreigners, who had for the moment overpowered the native element. Even the fact that the governor of that great State had, in the midst of these terrible scenes, addressed the miscreants as his "friends," was alluded to with a delicacy that won our hearts.

It was one of the pleasant indications of a union of hearts as well as of States, that the soldiers of our sister States looked upon these riots in the light of a general calamity, rather than a disgrace to a particular State.

Crossing the South Mountain range, from Boonsboro to Middletown, the Sixth corps reached Petersville, three or four miles north of Berlin, where the army was to cross the Potomac. Here, nearly the whole army was crowded into a space of not more than three miles, all waiting for the orders to cross. The men were universally eager to push forward, and the necessary delay caused by crossing the men and material of so large an army seemed to them a wearisome expenditure of time. While waiting here, the Second division was honored by the presence of several ladies, wives of officers of different regiments, who had been waiting in Washington an opportunity of visiting their husbands, and had met them here. As a memento of this brief visit, the Seventy-seventh New York received from the wife of the surgeon the gift of a pair of beautiful guidons, which the regiment boasted were unequaled in the army. The design was a white cross, the badge of our division, upon a ground of deep blue silk. In the center of the cross were wrought the figures "77." These beautiful guidons were carried by the regiment until its final discharge from the service, when, with the old banner, the tattered national flag, and the magnificent new flag which was presented afterward by the ladies of Saratoga, they were presented to the State of New York, on the Fourth of July, 1865, in the presence of General Grant and a great concourse of illustrious men.

On Sunday, the 19th, the Sixth corps crossed the pontoon bridge to Virginia, the bands playing "O carry me back." As usual, while the corps was crossing a bridge or passing a difficult place, General Sedgwick stood at the farther end of the bridge preventing confusion and hurrying up teams which might obstruct the way. We climbed the rocky defile, and, at four o'clock, found ourselves well on the Virginia side of the Potomac. On our march we passed through the little village of Lovettsville, and, much to the surprise of all, the doors and windows of the dwellings were filled with ladies, whose hair and dresses were decked with ribbons of red, white and blue, and scores of Union flags waved a welcome to our soldiers. Such a sight had not greeted us before in Dixie, and it was most refreshing to witness such a demonstration of loyalty in Virginia.

The corps encamped about ten miles from the river, near a beautiful clear stream of water, which was very soon filled with bathers. Here orders came for each regiment in the army to send, to the State in which the regiment was raised, a certain number of commissioned officers and enlisted men for recruiting duty.

The march on the 20th was slow and through groves and pleasant meadows. Twelve miles were made, and we halted for the night and the next day. Wednesday we passed through Union town and Snickersville, reaching the base of Cobbler's mountain, a high spur from the Blue Ridge, not far from Ashby's Gap. Thursday the Sixth corps proceeded to Ashby's Gap, and, halting there for a few hours in a most delightful valley, again started southward. Vines of the trailing blackberry covered the ground, and the delicious fruit grew in such profusion that the men enjoyed a continual feast. Never had we, in our wanderings in the south, found such an abundance of fruit, and the effect upon the health of the men was marvelous. By the time that we reached Warrenton the occupation of the surgeons was almost gone. At no time, perhaps, in the history of the Army of the Potomac, did the medical reports exhibit a more general state of health than during our stay in the vicinity of Warrenton.

Thus, marching along at the foot of Blue Ridge, now turning aside to enter some mountain pass, and again proceeding on the general course, the army, on the 25th of July, reached the vicinity of Warrenton, our Sixth corps occupying a line from Warrenton to Waterloo, the scene of some of the early engagements of General Pope's army at the first rebel invasion. The First division was stationed in and about Warrenton; the Jersey brigade being provost guard of the town, where the gentlemanly conduct of the men, and the strict order preserved in the town, won for them the good opinions of the town's people, as well as of army officers. The Third division was in the rear of the other two divisions, and guarding the flank. The Second division encamped about an old Baptist church, which, inclosed by a thick growth of trees, large and small, had been, before the war, the only house of worship for miles around. No paint had ever stained its seats or casings, and no steeple from its roof had ever pointed toward heaven. The pulpit, the white folks' seats and the black folks' seats, were all in ruins now. The Rappahannock river was but a half a mile distant, and the Seventy-seventh and Fifth Vermont were sent to perform picket duty along its banks. On the following day the camps of the two regiments were moved to the vicinity of the river, in front of the remainder of the division, and we were ordered to perform picket duty while the division remained in its present camp. The camp of the Fifth Vermont was established a fourth of a mile from that of the Seventy-seventh, its lines joining ours on the left. On the bank of the river just below our camp, was the residence of Mr. Hart and a grist-mill; hence the place was called "Hart's Mills."



CHAPTER XXI.

CAMPS AT WARRENTON, THE CENTREVILLE CAMPAIGN AND THE BATTLE OF RAPPAHANNOCK STATION.

Camp at Hart's Mills—A ride to the Sulphur Springs—Contrabands going north—The Vermonters go to New York—Jersey Brigade at Warrenton—The Sixth corps at Cedar Mountain—Retreat to Centreville—Battle of Bristoe Station—Advance to Warrenton—Battle of Rappahannock Station—Flight of Lee's army.



The camp at Hart's Mills was truly a pleasant one. It was situated in the midst of a most delightful oak grove, on a projecting hill, around whose base the Rappahannock coursed in a beautiful curve. Along its banks was our picket line. Westward the view extended over a charming valley to the Blue Ridge, some ten miles away; and at evening, when the sun sank behind those fine hills, tinging them and the clouds with gorgeous colors, the prospect was truly delightful. The village of Warrenton was some four miles distant, and the celebrated Warrenton Sulphur Springs about three miles down the river.

Under the direction of Chaplain Fox, a place in the grove was selected, a speaker's stand was erected, surrounded by rows of log seats, and here services were held on the Sabbath; and on other days of the week there were other regimental gatherings, which the men greatly enjoyed. At evening, the place would be lighted by Chinese lanterns of various colors, hung among the boughs of the oak trees, giving to the grove a most romantic appearance.

On one evening the regiment, with many invited guests from the division, assembled in this lovely spot and listened to speeches from several gentlemen of eloquence, the brigade band lending the aid of fine music to the evening's entertainment.

Thus pleasantly passed the time of the two regiments—the Seventy-seventh and Fifth Vermont—in doing picket duty for the Second division, along the banks of the Rappahannock. Our friends of the Fifth Vermont were, in addition to the pleasant location of their camp and their easy picket duty, favored with the presence of the wives of some of their officers. A ride to the Sulphur Springs was always a pleasant pastime; and we recall with pleasure one of these excursions. A small party, including one of these ladies, enjoying a morning's drive, turned their horses' heads towards the Springs. A merry gallop across three miles of delightful country, through pleasant groves and over rolling meadows, fording clear sparkling streams and leaping fences, brought the party to the former Saratoga of the south.

The morning had been cool and cloudy, but as our friends reached the little settlement the clouds were breaking away, and the sun began to pour blazing rays upon them. They secured their horses and walked into the grounds, in the midst of which General Birney, commanding a division of the Third corps, had established his head-quarters; and as it was then the dinner hour, the general and his staff were gathered around the board under the shade of the chestnut trees, while a band discoursed sweet music for the benefit of those at table.

Oak, chestnut and ailanthus trees form a rich and grateful shade for the grounds, which dip so as to form a kind of basin, in the center of which rises the cupola which covers the spring. As we step down into the inclosure of the cupola, indeed as we approach it at a distance, a strong sulphurous odor is perceived; but there is a delightful coolness as we sit down upon the benches which are placed around the area of the cupola. Several Vermont officers greeted our friends as they approached, offering the odorous drink to the lady. There are two springs or vats within the cupola, each inclosed by marble sides; and the water stands so high that we may dip it ourselves, thus dispensing with the necessity of the "dippers," such as take our dimes at Saratoga.

A glass of the sparkling fluid was presented to our lady friend, who raised it to her lips, and then turning her face away, with an expression of infinite disgust, and saying, with a good deal of energy, "I don't want any," handed back the glass. The gentlemen endeavored to convince her that the water was good; but even after adding a little fine brandy, she could not be induced to quaff the liquid, which she declared carried with it such powerful suggestions of unserviceable eggs.

Our friends lingered about the grounds for some hours, enjoying the cool shade and examining the old buildings, the principal one of which was originally a fine structure, but it had been burned the year before by our soldiers. The massive columns and high walls were still suggestive of the hilarious old times when the chivalry used to congregate here in all its glory. Encircling the grounds was a row of long one and two story buildings, most of them painted yellow. These were divided into small apartments which had been used as lodging rooms. There were a dozen or more of these buildings, all dilapidated by age rather than suffering from the ruthless usage of war. They inclosed the grove which occupied ten or twelve acres of land.

Except the circle of buildings immediately surrounding the grove and springs, there were but very few dwellings in the neighborhood, those evidently intended for the purpose of receiving summer boarders. It was said that about five hundred boarders used to spend the summer here every year, and double that number of visitors took rooms at Warrenton, a mile and a half distant, from which place they rode to the springs morning and evening to quaff the odorous fluid, or to stroll about the groves. The new White Sulphur Springs in the Shenandoah Valley had, for some years past, diverted the patronage from the Warrenton springs, and thither, at the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains, great numbers of fashionable southerners had resorted.

It was evidently a blessing that this resort had been despoiled by war. It sadly needed renovating and modernizing, and so long as the old buildings stood, no southerner had the enterprise to pull them down and replace them with better ones. A few thousands of dollars in the hands of an enterprising Yankee would soon make this one of the most delightful resorts in the southern states.

One of the characteristic features of our picket duty on the Rappahannock, was the great number of contrabands who came through our lines.

Squads of gray-headed old negroes, young negro women and children, carrying in bundles all their worldly store, constantly applied for permission to enter the lines on their way to the north. The cavalry who scouted in front on the south side of the river, returned with wagons loaded with little darkies, whose mothers and elder sisters and grandsires trudged along on foot. All wagons going to Warrenton without other lading were filled with these refugees from slavery, old and young, some black, some olive and some white; some with black curly wool, some with wavy black hair, and some with brown ringlets.

Our northern soldiers had, by this time, begun to look upon slavery in its true light. They had also learned that the negroes were their friends. It required a long schooling to teach them this lesson, but it was thoroughly learned at last. We heard now no jeering and hooting when a negro or wagon load of negroes went by. The soldiers treated them with the greatest kindness, and aided them in every way to get off to the north.

While our boys did not hesitate long to take from the white inhabitants any articles that they thought they were in need of, it was considered an act of outrageous meanness to take a chicken or any other property from the negro people.

While passing through Orleans, on our way to the present camp, a great many slave children were standing along the streets watching us. Many of these children were nearly white. The attention of one our captains, who was one of the last relics among us of that class of men who were loyal to their country but despised the negro, was fixed upon a beautiful child of olive complexion and wavy hair, who stood gazing in innocent wonder at the passing column. The child was indeed a picture of unadorned beauty, in her long coarse garment of "negro cloth." The captain turned to a staff officer and as a tear stole down his rough cheek at the thought of the degradation of the beautiful child, he exclaimed, "Isn't it horrible."

It is hardly necessary to say that the captain's sentiments from that moment underwent a radical change, and ever after there were none more ready to afford assistance to the needy refugees, than our generous but hitherto prejudiced captain.

Many of these colored refugees had the greatest faith in what they deemed the promises of the Bible. There was an almost universal faith in the ultimate overthrow of the south by the north, and this belief was founded in most cases upon their supposed Bible promises.



One of these people, a gray-haired negro, bent with age and leaning heavily upon his staff, who hoped to spend the evening of his life in freedom, said to the writer: "Our massas tell us dat dey goin to whip de Yankees and dat Jeff. Davis will rule de norf. But we knowd it warnt so cause de Bible don't say so. De Bible says that de souf shall prevail for a time and den de norf shall rise up and obertrow dem."

Where the old man found this strange prophecy he did not say, but many of the slaves declared this to be Bible truth and all asserted it in the same way.[5]

[5] Since the above paragraph was in print, a friend has called my attention to the passage in Daniel, chap. xi, verses 13-15, as the probable origin of this belief among the negroes. He further assures me that he is informed that the negroes in North Carolina entertained the same belief.

Among those who were thus fleeing from bondage, were two fine boys, each about twelve years of age and from the same plantation. Each gave his name as John, and as they were both remarkably bright little fellows, they were at once adopted into our head-quarters family. Their sprightly manners, their ready wit and their kindly good nature soon brought them into general favor. We were very early one morning startled by an extraordinary commotion in front of head-quarters, where the two Johns stood swinging their hats, leaping and dancing in most fantastic manner, and screaming at the top of their voices the wildest exclamations of delight. Looking in the direction to which their attention was turned, we saw a group of eight or ten negro women and small children accompanied by an aged colored patriarch. One of the Johns suddenly forgetting his ecstacy of delight, rolling up the whites of his eyes and holding his hands above his head, exclaimed with impressive gravity, "Oh my Lor a massa! What'l ole missus do now?"

The party consisted of the mothers and younger brothers and sisters of the two boys with their grandfather. Forgetting for a moment their joy at the escape of their friends from slavery, the boys were overpowered with the vision of "ole missus" left desolate, without a slave to minister to her many wants.

On the morning of the 6th of August, we were astonished to find the camp of our neighbors of the Fifth Vermont deserted, and their picket line occupied by a regiment from the Third division. The surprise was still greater when we learned that the whole of the Second brigade had been ordered to New York city to guard against any resistance which might be offered to the enforcement of the draft. The order had reached the brigade after midnight, and at three o'clock it was on its way to the north. Thus the Third brigade was now all that was left of the Second division of the Sixth corps. Up to this time General Howe had kept the division, except the two regiments on picket, hard at work at division drills. It is safe to say that no division in the army performed more labor in drills than Howe's during the time that it was under command of that officer. The whole division was encamped in one of those charming localities which make this part of Virginia more beautiful than almost any other, and aside from the continual round of drills, the time passed most agreeably. The Jersey boys here spent the time in pleasant alternation of guard duties and social enjoyments; a part of the time being devoted to military affairs, and a much greater part spent in agreeable attentions to the winning young ladies of Warrenton.

But, like every other brief respite for the army of the Potomac, this was destined to come to an end. On the 15th of September the army moved toward Culpepper, which was reached on the 16th; the Sixth corps taking position at a place called Stonehouse Mountain, three miles west of Culpepper.

Here we remained three weeks; the camps were by no means so delightful as those about Warrenton and Waterloo, and the weather was becoming quite cold, so that our three weeks stay at Stonehouse Mountain had little about it to make us desire to make it longer. Some pleasing incidents, however, relieved the monotony of our stay at this place, the presentation of an elegant sword to Colonel French, by the line officers of the Seventy-seventh, was the first. The presentation was followed by festivity and merriment, and in the evening our friends of the Seventh Maine, forming a torchlight procession, marched to the camp of the Seventy-seventh to congratulate the colonel and line officers upon the mutual trust and confidence existing between them. The next was the return of the Vermont brigade from New York. The Third brigade was drawn up in line to receive our returning comrades, and with much ceremony welcomed them back to the division. It must be acknowledged that both brigades would have been better pleased with the unrestrained welcome which would have been expressed in cheers than by the formal military salute.

On Monday, October 5th, the Sixth corps marched to Cedar Mountain on the Rapidan, the scene of General Banks' conflict with Jackson. The First corps was already stationed in the vicinity of Raccoon Ford, and the two corps now occupied a line of five or six miles along the bend of the river, holding the roads to Culpepper and Stevensburgh. The two corps were thus thrown out ten miles in front of the main army, having little communication with the rear. Few wagons were allowed to follow us, and those were ordered to the rear under a strong escort. On Friday, the 11th, the signal officers stationed on the summit of Cedar Mountain, while watching the rebel signals, read the message sent by their flags: "I am at James City. J. E. B. S." Thus it was known that Stuart was making for our rear, and as long trains of wagons had also been discovered moving in the direction of James City, it became evident that Lee was endeavoring to throw his whole army in the rear of our own. General Meade determined to draw the rebel army back if possible; accordingly the Sixth and First corps were ordered to build extensive fires and be in readiness to march at a moment's notice. On the following morning, Buford, with a division of cavalry, appeared at Germania Ford, some twelve miles below us, while our infantry advanced as though about to cross at Raccoon Ford and the fords in front of the Sixth corps. The ruse of threatening to cross the river by the two corps, succeeded in calling the rebel infantry back to check our advance; and at night, after building large fires, the two corps hastily withdrew toward Culpepper, which we reached at daylight, after a severe march. After a brief halt for breakfast, the corps, with the whole of the infantry, was on its way toward Brandy Station, leaving the cavalry force under Pleasanton to cover the retreat. A rapid march, in which the army moved in several parallel columns, brought the infantry all safe across the Rappahannock at Rappahannock Station. But the cavalry were not allowed to retreat without some hard fighting. Their guns could be heard by us during the afternoon, and toward evening the firing became more rapid and nearer. Indeed, the rebels advanced almost to the banks of the river.

Gregg, with a brigade of cavalry, was overtaken by a considerable force of the enemy, near Jefferson, early in the day, and after a severe engagement of two hours, fell back, crossing the river at Sulphur Springs.

Kilpatrick with his brigade, following the trail of the infantry, and designing to form a union with Gregg, found, on passing Brandy Station, that his way was blocked by a whole division of rebel cavalry, which had slipped in between him and the rear of the infantry. Halting for a moment to take a single glance at the situation of affairs, the dashing general shouted to his men, "Boys, there are the cusses!" Then, springing to the head of the column, he led his men to such a charge as has rarely been witnessed even in our cavalry service.

The road was strongly guarded by three regiments of cavalry in solid column, flanked on either side by a regiment in line. Directly upon this strongly posted force, the gallant general and his brave fellows rushed with shouts and oaths, and sabre thrusts, trampling down everything in their way. Unable to withstand this impetuous and unexpected onset, the rebels gave way, allowing the Union brigade to pass between their broken ranks. Dead men and horses lay thickly scattered upon the ground when the victorious brigade left the field to join the infantry at the river.

Thus, hotly pursued, General Meade determined to offer battle to the pursuing army, making the Rappahannock his immediate base of operations. Accordingly, early the following morning, a large portion of the infantry and artillery was countermarched across the river, where, within a mile of the stream, the line of battle was formed, and we waited the onset of the enemy until past noon. Then, Buford's cavalry having engaged the enemy in front, three corps, the Second, Fifth and Sixth, commenced to advance in line of battle. It was a grand spectacle. During two years of service we had not seen its like. Our line of battle stretched across the vast plain, nearly three miles in length, straight as the flight of an arrow. At each flank were several battalions in echelon. In the rear of the center of each wing of the line, was a heavy reserve in solid square, and, following in the rear of each square, a large column, stretching back to the river and across the pontoon bridges to the farther side of the stream.

Thus the line of battle moved forward across the plain, never for a moment losing its perfect form. Brisk cannonading and musketry were kept up by the cavalry in front, and the army earnestly hoped that General Lee might accept our challenge to an open field fight, but the rebel general was too wary to accept battle on such equal terms, and pushed on toward Sulphur Springs, hoping to reach Centreville before us.

Our line of battle halted at dark, at Brandy Station. But there was no time to be lost; resting there until eleven o'clock, we were ordered to retrace our steps to the river; this time not in line of battle, but in all haste. The night was dark, and the troops had already made long marches; so when they reached and crossed the river at daylight, they were fairly worn out. An hour for sleep and breakfast was allowed, the railroad bridge was blown up, and again we were on a grand race northward.

It was a great medley; baggage wagons, pontoons, ambulances, artillery and troops, all thrown together in splendid confusion. Drivers cursing, cannon rattling, soldiers singing and shouting, horses racing, and all that sublime confusion which can never be seen except in a hasty but well directed retreat of a vast army.

We passed Warrenton Junction and Bealton Station, and at eight o'clock halted near Kettle Run, having marched more than thirty miles within twenty-four hours.

We had not long to rest, for at daylight, October 14th, we were again on the road, making quick time. We passed our old camp at Bristoe, and the familiar scenes at Manassas Junction, and crossed Bull Run at Blackman's Ford. We reached Centreville at three P.M. The booming of cannon in the rear, the huge clouds of smoke, and the heavy rattle of musketry, told us there was hot work on the ground we had lately passed over; and as we formed in line of battle in front of Centreville, the soldiers said, "Here is the third Bull Run, but this time the run will be on the other side."

To the Second corps had been assigned the duty of guarding the rear of the army. About twelve o'clock, as the rear of that corps was crossing Broad Run, a wide and muddy stream at Bristoe Station, the rebel corps of A. P. Hill suddenly appeared from the cover of the woods in the vicinity, and, running out a battery, opened a severe fire of artillery and musketry upon the column, which was in a degree of confusion, owing to the difficult crossing of the stream.

In a moment order was restored, and the troops so placed as to defy the advance of the enemy.

The rebels, finding that their attack upon the advance was fruitless, now turned their attention to the rear division, which was advancing toward the run. Opening upon the column a fierce cannonade and a storm of bullets, they hoped to throw the division into confusion, but again they were disappointed. After a severe fight, the rebels were forced to flee across the run in great disorder, leaving in the hands of the Second corps five pieces of artillery, two stands of colors, and four hundred and fifty prisoners. Such was the battle of Bristoe Station.

At dark that evening the Sixth corps moved to Chantilly, where we rested for the night. Next morning we took a new and stronger position, where we waited, listening to the roar of cannon where the cavalry was contending with the advance of the enemy, and wondering how soon our own turn would come. Suddenly, at three o'clock, the doubts seemed to be removed. An officer came dashing along the line, with the order to "Strip for the fray! the enemy are coming down upon us!" The men stood to arms, and again we waited for the attack, but none was made: our cavalry had arrested the advance of the enemy. At night the firing died away, and we pitched our tents and slept undisturbed.

In the afternoon of the 16th, the Seventy-seventh being on picket, a horseman suddenly rushed in front of the head-quarter tents, saying that the left of our picket line was attacked. It proved that a body of rebel cavalry had discovered some wagons outside the picket line, and had made a dash upon them. Our boys drove them back in haste, but the line was strengthened in the expectation of a more important demonstration. This, however, was the last we saw of the rebels on our part of the line.

Lee, finding himself too late to occupy the works around Centreville before us, and hopeless of the success of any flank movement, turned his army again towards the Rappahannock.

On the following morning, October 17th, our army started in pursuit, the rain falling upon us in torrents, rendering the mud deep and the marching hard. We halted that night at Gainesville, marched the next day through New Baltimore, and reached Warrenton at night. On our march we had passed the bodies of many of our cavalrymen, who had been killed in the constant skirmishes which had been going on since our advance. Near New Baltimore, where Kilpatrick's brigade had been forced back, the bodies of his men lay scattered along the roadside, nearly all of them stripped of their clothing by the rebels.

The army encamped in the vicinity of Warrenton; the Sixth corps occupying a pleasant ridge just in front of the town. Here we remained a fortnight.

Our first week at Warrenton was anything but agreeable. The cold northwest winds swept through our camps, carrying chilly discomfort everywhere. The men shivered over their log fires; but while the fitful wind drove the smoke and fire into their faces, it froze their backs. At our head-quarters, as we drew closely about our fire, dreading equally the chilly winds and the provoking clouds of smoke, one of the party, perhaps reading for the amusement of the others from a volume of Saxe's poems, a stranger, had one chanced to drop in among us, would have imagined that Saxe must have written most grievous tales of woe, and that our hearts and eyes were all melted by the sad stories. At length, having suffered these disagreeable exposures for a week, the men of the corps fell to work to erect comfortable quarters, and thinking that the present camp might possibly become winter quarters, they made for themselves much more comfortable huts than had served them in their winter's camp at White Oak Church. Generals Neill and Grant reviewed their brigades, and then Generals Howe and Wright reviewed their divisions, and last of all, General Sedgwick had a grand review of the whole corps, which was a very splendid affair.

The weather became again mild and agreeable. Pontoons were arriving and there were many indications that we must soon leave our comfortable quarters. At length, at ten o'clock at night, November 6th, came the order, "Reveille at half-past four; move at daylight." So good-bye, fine quarters and comfortable fire-places, we must be off.

We were in line and commenced moving from camp at daylight, November 7th. We marched rapidly, taking the road to Rappahannock Station. The Sixth and Fifth corps only had taken this road, the remaining corps were, however, either on the move or under orders to move, the Third corps having taken the road to Ely's Ford, and the others following. General Sedgwick was placed in command of the Fifth and Sixth corps, while General Meade accompanied the left wing.

At noon we halted within a mile of the Station, and the corps was immediately thrown into line of battle. The men were allowed to rest on their arms for an hour or two, wondering what was to come.

In front of us was a line of low hills, stretching parallel with our line of battle, and on the slope toward us, and within pistol shot of us, were rebel cavalry pickets, sitting upon their horses and facing us with the coolest impudence; but not a shot was fired at them. We had not rested here long before we heard the booming of cannon on our left, where, three miles down the river, the Third corps had already engaged the enemy. At length the order came to move forward. The Second division, under General Howe, held the right, the Third brigade constituting its front line, the Vermont brigade its second, the Forty-third New York as skirmishers. On the left, was the First division, the Sixth Maine on the skirmish line, the Second and Third brigades in the advance, the New Jersey brigade in the reserve; and in the center the Third division, under General Terry.

In this order the corps pushed forward up the hills, the rebel horsemen whirling and flying before our advance. As our skirmishers gained the summit of the hills, the rebel infantry delivered their fire upon them, but the brave boys of the Forty-third and of the Sixth Maine pushed on, never halting or wavering for a moment, driving the enemy before them until they had pushed the rebel skirmishers close upon their line of battle.

The First division at once became hotly engaged, the rebels disputing the advance with unavailing obstinacy. That noble division bore the brunt of the battle. While the Second and Third divisions behaved with great gallantry, doing all that was required of them, and doing it with that fighting joy so characteristic of the whole corps, the First division, from its position, was called upon to perform unusual feats of valor. As General Sedgwick was that day in command of the right wing of the army, General Wright, of the First division, commanded the corps, and General Russell, the brave, unassuming and beloved commander of the Third brigade, commanded the division.

The skirmishers of our Second division, the Forty-third New York, pushed gallantly forward, their brave Colonel Baker riding rapidly from one end of the line to the other, his white horse making a prominent mark for the rebels. The line of battle of the whole corps followed closely upon the skirmishers. As we reached the summit of the hills, a grand panorama of the battle opened before us. The whole battle-field could be seen at a single glance; a rare occurrence. On one side were the eminences occupied by our own line of battle, and on the other, a line of hills of equal elevation, covered with swarms of rebels. Between the two ranges of hills, stretched a plain one-fourth of a mile wide and from one to two miles long, which was occupied by the skirmishers of the opposing forces.

The rebels were posted in strong positions behind extensive earthworks, forts, redoubts and rifle pits; and their artillery was posted so as to sweep the plain and the sloping grounds confronting them. Their gray lines of infantry were pouring out from behind the earthworks to meet us at the edge of the plain.

As our line of battle appeared on the crest of the hills, the rebel batteries opened a terrific fire upon us. The air was filled with the shriekings of these fearful projectiles, which exploded with startling frequency above our heads and just behind us; but, fortunately, the rebels aimed high, and many of the shells ploughed the ground in our rear or burst about our hospitals. The First division was pressing toward the rebel works at double quick, under a terrible fire of musketry and artillery, the boys with the red crosses pushing everything before them. They neared the rebel works, and the skirmishers along the whole line threw themselves upon the ground waiting for the line of battle to come up. The rebel skirmishers did the same. Each moment the scene became more exciting. Rebel infantry crowded the opposite side of the plain, the slopes of the hills and the rifle pits. The whole line was ablaze with the fire of musketry, and the roar of battle constantly increased.

At length, toward evening, the rebels having been driven back to the cover of their rifle pits, the Third brigade of the First division, consisting of the Sixth Maine, the Fifth Wisconsin, the Forty-ninth and One Hundred and Nineteenth Pennsylvania, regiments whose fame already stood high in the army, was ordered forward.

First the Maine and Wisconsin regiments rushed forward, the intrepid Russell riding at the very front. At his order to "charge," the two regiments quickened their pace to a run, and, with bayonets fixed, without ever stopping to fire a gun, the gallant fellows ran forward. They seized the fort, but the rebels rallied and drove them out. Again they charged; a hand to hand encounter followed. The boys leaped over into the fort, using their muskets for clubs, and, when the work was too close for that, dropping their guns and pommeling their adversaries with their fists. The general had sent back for the remaining regiments of the brigade, but, in the ten minutes that elapsed before the Pennsylvanians could come up on a run, half the men of the Sixth Maine, and nearly as many of the Wisconsin regiment, had fallen. The whole brigade leaped over the embankments, capturing hundreds of the rebels.

Not less gallant was the charge of the Second brigade, led by the young, ambitious Colonel Upton. His regiments were the One Hundred and Twenty-first New York, his own, the Fifth Maine, and the Ninety-fifth and Ninety-sixth Pennsylvania. The brigade occupied the left of the Sixth corps, joining the Fifth corps. Under cover of the growing darkness, the courageous Upton led the One Hundred and Twenty-first New York and Fifth Maine within a few yards of the rebel rifle pits, when the order to charge was given. Instantly the rifle pits were ablaze, and a destructive volley was poured into the two regiments. Another moment and the Union boys were leaping into the rifle pits, sweeping everything before them. All this while not a shot had been fired by Upton's men, but, charging with the bayonet, they carried all before them.

The confederates took to their heels, and attempted to flee to the other side of the river, but their pontoon bridge was in possession of our troops, and hundreds of panic-stricken rebels leaped into the rapid stream and attempted to swim across. Some succeeded, but many were drowned in the attempt. Sixteen hundred prisoners, eight pieces of artillery, four battle-flags, and more than two thousand stand of small arms, were the trophies of this splendid victory.

The credit of this brilliant success belongs mainly to the First division; yet the Second and Third divisions, while less actively engaged, performed their part with alacrity and bravery, and the many dead and wounded from these two divisions attested the severity of the fight along their portions of the line. The loss to the corps, in killed and wounded, was about three hundred, among whom were many choice spirits. The commander of the Fifth Wisconsin, Captain Walker, was killed. Captain Ordway succeeded to the command. He leaped upon the parapet, and fell dead inside the rebel fort.

All this time the Third corps was actively engaged at Kelly's Ford, three miles to our left. It had found the rebels strongly posted on the opposite side of the river, well protected by forts and rifle pits. The artillery of the corps was taken to the river side and brought to bear upon the rebel works. At length a storming party was selected and massed on the banks. At the word, the brave fellows plunged into the stream, and rushing across, charged the strong works of the rebels with great fury. The occupants were obliged to flee, but five hundred of them were left as prisoners.

Owing to the depth and force of the stream between the works the Sixth corps had taken, and those still occupied by the rebels on the other side, it was impossible to push our victory further that night. The confederates, finding our troops in possession of their pontoon bridge, had set it on fire at the end still held by them; thus all pursuit was for the time cut off. But on the following morning the rebels had retreated, leaving us to rebuild the bridge and cross at our leisure.

Without further delay we pushed on toward Brandy Station, which we reached toward evening, the cavalry having preceded us.

The whole of Lee's army, except the forces stationed at Rappahannock Station and Kelly's Ford, had been encamped in the vicinity of Brandy Station, and their recently deserted camps, where they had erected comfortable huts and made many other preparations for a winter's stay, showed that their hasty leave was entirely unexpected to them. In many instances officers had forgotten to take their valises and trunks with them, and Union soldiers strutted about in the garb of rebel brigadiers and colonels.

It was said, by the rebel prisoners taken by the cavalry, that while the fights were in progress on the Rappahannock, General Lee was holding a grand review of his army, when suddenly the information reached him that the Yankees were coming. The review was broken off, and there was hurrying of regiments to their respective camps, each regiment, independently of its division or brigade, making hot haste for its own quarters. Baggage was quickly thrown into wagons, and a general stampede toward the Rapidan commenced at once.



CHAPTER XXII.

THE ARMY AT BRANDY STATION.

Encampment at Brandy Station—The Mine Run campaign—Crossing the Rapidan—Battle of Locust Grove—The army on Mine Run—The order of battle—The army withdraws—Back at Brandy Station—Reconnoissance to Madison Court House—Ladies in camp—Chapel tents.

The Sixth corps went into camp on the right of the army, two miles from Brandy Station. We occupied land belonging to John Minor Botts. Mr. Botts boasted that he owned six hundred miles of fence when we came upon his possessions. He could not say that when we had been there a week! His fences were burned, and his forests cut down; and it was generally known that our chief quarter-master was paying him immense sums of money for the wood used by our army.

At the end of a week it became pretty evident that our stay at Brandy Station might be of considerable duration, possibly for the winter. Accordingly, the men proceeded once more to build houses for the winter; and never, since we had been in service, had they constructed so comfortable quarters as they now built. All about us were the rebel camps, in which they had vainly hoped to spend the winter; and these furnished timbers already hewn, fine stones ready for use in making chimneys, and hewn saplings ready prepared for bunks. The Sixth corps was encamped in a fine forest, which should have furnished not only great abundance of timber for use about the quarters, but for fuel for the winter; but owing to the wasteful manner in which the wood was at first used in building log fires in the open air, the forest melted away before the men had fairly concluded that there was any necessity for using it economically.

Preparations were hurried forward for another advance. The railroad, which had been destroyed by the rebels at the time of the raid to Centreville, from the Rappahannock to Bristoe Station, was to be rebuilt, and the bridge across the Rappahannock, which we had ourselves destroyed, was to be replaced, before the army could safely undertake another advance. It is one of the mysteries which people who have never been connected with a great army have greatest difficulty in comprehending, that an army advancing into such a country as we were now threatening, must have ample and easy communications with its base of supplies. Could such people for a moment realize the vast amount of material consumed by such an army as ours, the mystery might be solved. To attempt to advance into a desert country without first either providing a supply for many days, or opening ready communications with our base of supplies, would have been suicidal. General Sherman might lead his army through a fertile country, where the ravages of war had not appeared, and, by sweeping across a territory forty miles wide, collect abundant supplies for his men; but our army was now to march into a wilderness where even a regiment could not find subsistence. The newspapers at the north that condemned the delay at Brandy Station, and sneered at the idea that the army needed a base of supplies, simply exhibited their profound ignorance of the first principles of campaigning.

By the 25th the road was completed as far as Brandy Station, the bridge rebuilt, and a large amount of supplies brought up; and the army was ordered to move at an early hour on the 26th.

The hour for moving was assigned each corps, and the order in which it was to march, that no delay or confusion might occur. The Third corps was to start as soon as daylight, and the Sixth was to follow it.

Our Sixth corps was moving at sunrise, the hour designated, toward Brandy Station. Presently the head of the column halted in the midst of the camps of the Third corps, which were yet undisturbed. According to the order for marching, the Third corps was to precede the Sixth, and should have been out of camp before we arrived, but as yet not a tent was struck nor a wagon loaded, and most of the men were asleep in their quarters. The Sixth corps was obliged to halt and stand in the mud for hours, waiting for the delinquent corps to get out of the way. Here was the first blunder of the new campaign.

At length at eleven o'clock we moved again, taking the road to the Rapidan. Our march was slow and tedious, and instead of reaching the river at noon as was expected, and as General Meade's orders contemplated, the head of the Third corps only reached the river at Jacobs' Ford long after dark, and here again a delay was occasioned by a mistake of the engineers, who had not brought a sufficient number of boats to this point to complete the pontoon bridge; a part of the bridge had therefore to be extemporized out of poles.

The road for several miles was merely a narrow passage cut through the forest; a dense growth of stunted pines and tangled bushes, filling up the space between the trees of larger growth. Our corps moved along very slowly, halting for a moment, then advancing one or two rods, then standing still again for perhaps several minutes, and again moving forward for a few steps. This became very tedious. The men were faint and weary, and withal discouraged. They were neither advancing nor resting.

From one end of the column of the Sixth corps to the other, through the miles of forest the shout, coffee! coffee! passed from one regiment to another, until there could be heard nothing but the vociferous demand for coffee. At eleven o'clock at night the order "ten minutes rest for coffee," passed down the line and was received with shouts of approval. Instantly the roadside was illuminated with thousands of little fires, over which the soldiers were cooking their favorite beverage.

We crossed the Rapidan at Jacobs' Ford at midnight, leaving Upton's brigade on the north side as rear-guard, and in another hour the men had thrown themselves upon the ground without waiting to erect shelter tents, and were sleeping soundly notwithstanding the severity of the cold. The Fifth and First corps had crossed at Culpepper Ford and the Second corps at Germania Ford about noon, and were in the positions assigned them.

The position assigned to the Third and Sixth corps was not reached. These corps were ordered to proceed to Robertson's Tavern, a point some seven miles beyond the ford, but the night was far advanced, the men exhausted and the country little known, so these two corps did not seize this very important point as directed. Of course the responsibility for this delay was not with the Sixth corps or its commander, who was directed to follow the Third.

Next morning the Third corps commenced the advance, and we of the Sixth were drawn out in line of march to follow; but it became evident that the advance was not unobstructed. Sharp picket firing and the occasional booming of cannon revealed to us the fact that that corps had fallen in with the enemy. Thus the day passed; the Sixth corps resting quietly, while the Third was skirmishing with the enemy in front, until about three o'clock, when the firing increased and there was evidently a severe engagement in front.

The First and Second divisions of the Sixth corps were now hurried along the narrow and winding path to the support of the Third corps—our Third division being left near the river to cover the bridges and trains. That corps was now fiercely engaged. The sulphurous smoke filled the woods, and the roar of musketry became so general, and the forest echoed and reechoed the sound, so that it lost the rattling usually heard, and became a smooth, uniform roll. Our corps at once took its position in line of battle, so as to support the Third corps and protect the interval between the Third and Second corps, with Ellmaker's brigade on the right, and Neill's and Upton's on the left, while the Vermonters and Torbert's Jersey brigade were held in reserve; but the corps was not called into action. The dense growth of young timber completely obscured all view of the operations at a little distance, and, indeed, rebel scouting parties were able to hang close upon our flanks, and even penetrate our lines, protected from view and from pursuit by the tangled forest.

On our right, the Second corps also encountered a force of the enemy, and became engaged in the vicinity of Robertson's Tavern. They succeeded in driving the rebel force, which was small, back to the cover of the wilderness. Gregg, also, with his cavalry, became engaged, but drove the rebels back.

It now appeared that the fight of the Third corps was brought on by a blunder. General French, in attempting to lead his corps to Robertson's Tavern, had mistaken the road, and, by bearing too far to the west, had encountered Ewell's corps, which was hastening to intercept our progress. The rebels made repeated charges upon the corps, but were each time repulsed, and under cover of the night they fell back, leaving their dead on the ground. The loss to the Third corps was between three and four hundred; that of the rebels, judging from the dead left upon the ground, must have been greater.

While the fight was in progress, General Sedgwick and his staff dismounted and were reclining about a large tree, when the attention of all was directed to two soldiers who were approaching, bearing between them a stretcher on which lay a wounded man. As the men approached within a few rods of the place where the general and his staff were, a solid cannon shot came shrieking along, striking both of the stretcher bearers. Both fell to the ground—the one behind fatally wounded, the other dead. But the man upon the stretcher leaped up and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him, never stopping to look behind at his unfortunate companions. Shocking as was the occurrence, neither the general nor the members of his staff could suppress a laugh at the speedy restoration of the man who was being borne disabled from the field.

The two corps moved during the night to Robertson's Tavern, the destination which they should have reached twenty-four hours before.

The unexpected encounter with the rebels in the Wilderness had hindered the two corps thus long, and as might have been expected the time was not left unimproved by General Lee. On moving in the morning on the road to Orange Court House, Lee's whole army was found strongly posted along the banks of a muddy stream called Mine Run. Our army was brought into position on the north side of the stream, and arrangements commenced for a general assault. Sharp picket firing and the occasional roar of artillery, warned us that we were on the eve of a great battle. A cold storm of rain rendered the situation cheerless and uncomfortable, but the excitement of getting into position, regiments and brigades marching from one part of the line to another, now approaching where the bullets of the rebel skirmishers whistled about them, and then withdrawing a little to the rear, kept up the spirits of the men notwithstanding the tedious storm.

The greater part of the lines of both armies were in the midst of forests. Between the two lines and in the midst of a deep valley, was the little stream Mine Run, bordered on each side by marshes in which were luxuriant growths of reed grasses. The marshes and slopes on either side were thickly set with low pines and scrub oaks, offering concealment to both parties.

Darkness closed over the two armies, neither of which was yet prepared for battle. The night was spent by both parties in throwing up earthworks, and the morning revealed several strong lines of rifle pits on the rebel side of the stream, one commanding another so that in case they should be driven from one the next would afford an equally strong or even stronger position.

Thus the two armies remained during Sunday. General Meade still waiting to perfect his arrangements.

During the day the disposition of the line was completed. General Warren with his Second corps occupied the extreme left of the line. His position fronted a very strong position of the enemy, where the hills rose abruptly to the rear. This being considered by far the strongest portion of the enemy's line. Warren was supported by the Fifth corps, two divisions of the Third corps, and the Third division of the Sixth corps, under General Terry. In the center was the First and Fifth corps, and, forming the right, were the two remaining divisions of the Sixth corps and what was left of the Third. Our Second division constituted the extreme right of the line; the Third brigade the right of the division; and the Seventy-seventh New York the right of the brigade.

At two A.M., the Sixth corps and the division of the Third, covered by the woods, moved about two miles to a position on the left flank of the enemy. The dense thicket and a gentle eminence concealed the corps from the view of the rebels, who were but a few yards distant; and in order to insure secresy, orders were issued that the men should avoid all noise, as far as possible, and refrain from lighting fires.

It was arranged that the grand attack should be made on Monday; and early in the evening the commanders of corps were summoned to General Meade's head-quarters, where the plan of the battle was laid before them.

At a given signal, very early in the morning, General Warren with his strong force was to press forward on the right of the rebel line. At the same time forces in the center were to open a fierce fire upon the enemy, while the Sixth corps, at the same moment, was to rush from its concealed position and turn the left flank of Lee's army.

The commanders of the divisions of the Sixth corps summoned the commanders of brigades and regiments, and communicated to them also the plan of the battle, and assigned to each his part.

The night was bitter cold, and the men of our corps were without fires. It was vain to attempt to sleep, and the men spent the night in leaping and running in efforts to keep warm.

No one doubted that the morning was to bring on one of the most terrific struggles in the history of warfare. No man knew what was to be his own fate, but each seemed braced for the conflict. It was a glorious moonlight, and the stars looked down in beauty from the cold skies upon the strange scene. Thus all waited for the day.

The morning dawned; and soon after daylight the signal gun for the grand attack was heard near the center of the line, and an active cannonade commenced there.

In a short time the order came for the commencement of the movement on the right. The men were ordered to fall in; they were faced to the right, to move a little farther in that direction before making the direct assault; they stood, with their muskets on their shoulders, their hearts beating violently in anticipation of the onset to be made in another moment, when an aide rode hastily to General Howe with directions to suspend the movement!

Warren, on advancing his line of skirmishers, and viewing the strong works thrown up by the enemy during the night, had sent word that he could not carry the position before him. And General Meade had ordered the whole movement to be discontinued for the time.

Never before, in the history of our army, had such elaborate preparations been made for an attack. Every commander and every man knew exactly the part he was expected to take in the great encounter, and each had prepared himself for it. At the hospitals everything was in a state of perfect readiness. Hospital tents were all up, beds for the wounded prepared, operating tables were in readiness, basins and pails stood filled with water, lint and dressings were laid out upon the tables, and surgical instruments spread out ready for the grasp of the surgeon.

All day the men remained suffering with cold, their hunger but partially satisfied with hard bread without coffee. It was a day of discomfort and suffering long to be remembered. It chanced that the hard bread issued to our division was old and very wormy. It was, in some cases, difficult for a man to know whether his diet was to be considered principally animal or vegetable. Our General, Neill, sat with his staff munching some of these crackers of doubtful character, when he was handed one unusually animated. The general broke the cracker, examined it for a moment, and, handing it back to the servant, said, "Jim, give us one that hasn't so many worms in it." Many of the men who were on the picket line that day and the night before, were found, when the relief came around, dead at their posts, frozen.

During the night of December 1st and 2d, the army withdrew from Mine Run. The pickets were directed to build fires and keep up a show of force. Our Seventy-seventh being that night on the picket line, formed the rear of the rear-guard of the army on its retreat. It was three o'clock in the morning of December 2d when the picket line was silently withdrawn. After a rapid march, it crossed the pontoon bridge at Germania Ford at ten o'clock. Scarcely had the troops crossed the bridge, when the cavalry of the enemy made its appearance on the south side of the river. The Seventy-seventh New York, the Third Vermont and a battery of artillery were directed to remain and guard the ford, while the remainder of the army continued the march to the old camps. Next morning the two regiments and the battery started for Brandy Station, and that night slept in their old quarters.

It was now evident that we were in permanent winter quarters. It is not our purpose to discuss the merits of this fruitless campaign, but it may not be out of place to recall some of the facts relating to it. The orders for marching on the 26th, were issued to all the corps commanders on the evening previous, indicating the time for leaving camp. The Sixth corps was to follow the Third, yet when the Sixth corps reached the camp of that corps, there were no signs of moving. Several hours were thus lost on the start. General French declared that the order to move did not reach him on the previous evening, yet he knew that the movement was expected that day. As the result of this and other delays, two corps did not reach the position assigned them on the 26th.

When, on the morning of the 27th, General French moved his corps again, he took the wrong road, and thus brought on a premature engagement, which caused another delay of twenty-four hours. By this time Lee had ample opportunity to concentrate his whole army in a strong position on Mine Run. Had General Meade's orders been promptly obeyed, Lee could have offered no opposition to us at that point, and must have accepted battle much nearer Richmond.

Our campaigns for 1863 were now finished; the last two of these had certainly been remarkable episodes in the fortunes of our stout-hearted army. In October, the rebel army had followed us from the Rapidan to the defenses of Washington, and in turn we had pursued the confederates back to the Rapidan, all without a battle of any magnitude. Now, in November, our whole army had crossed the river and confronted the rebel army face to face for days, and again we were back in our old camps without an engagement, except the fight of the Third corps, and some skirmishing on the part of others.

During the month of December, general orders were issued from the war department offering to soldiers of the army, who had already served two years, and who had still a year or less to serve, large bounties, a release from the term of their former enlistment and thirty-five days' furlough, as inducements for them to reenlist for three years from that time. Much excitement was created by the order throughout the army, and thousands accepted it, nearly all claiming that they cared little for the large bounties, but that the thirty-five days' furlough was the great inducement.

The only military movement of the winter was Kilpatrick's great raid upon Richmond, in which the lamented Dahlgren lost his life.

Simultaneous with this great raid, General Custer, with a division of cavalry, made a movement on Charlottesville, and the Sixth corps was ordered to move in that direction as support to the cavalry. On Saturday, February 27th, the corps, leaving its camp and sick in charge of a small guard, marched through Culpepper and proceeded to James City, a Virginia city of two or three houses, where the bivouac for the night was made. Next morning the corps marched slowly to Robertson's River, within three miles of Madison Court House, the New Jersey brigade alone crossing the river and proceeding as far as the latter village. Here the corps lay all the following day, and as the weather was pleasant, the men passed the time in sports and games, but at evening a cold storm of rain set in, continuing all night and the next day, to the great discomfort of all. Custer's cavalry returned at evening of the 1st of March, looking in a sorry plight from their long ride in the mud. Reveille sounded at five o'clock on the morning of March 2d, and at seven the corps turned toward the old camp, at which it arrived, after a severe march through the mud, at sunset the same day.

There were, connected with our camp near Brandy Station, many pleasant remembrances; and notwithstanding a few severe experiences, this was the most cheerful winter we had passed in camp. One agreeable feature of this encampment was the great number of ladies, wives of officers, who spent the winter with their husbands. On every fine day great numbers of ladies might be seen riding about the camps and over the desolate fields, and their presence added greatly to the brilliancy of the frequent reviews.

Great taste was displayed by many officers in fitting up their tents and quarters for the reception of their wives. The tents were usually inclosed by high walls of evergreens, woven with much skill, and fine arches and exquisite designs beautified the entrances to these happy retreats. The Christian Commission, among other good things which it did for the soldiers, and, indeed, this was among the best, made arrangements by which it loaned to nearly every brigade in the army, a large canvas, to be used as a roof for a brigade chapel. These chapels were built of logs and covered with the canvas, and were in many cases large enough to hold three hundred people. Here religious services were held, not only on Sunday, but also on week day evenings. A deep religious interest prevailed in many of the brigades, and great numbers of soldiers professed to have met with a change of heart. In our Third brigade, this religious interest was unusually great; a religious organization was formed within the Seventy-seventh, and Chaplain Fox baptized eleven members of the regiment in Hazel river. A course of literary lectures was also delivered in the chapel of our Third brigade, and Washington's birthday was celebrated in it with appropriate ceremonies and addresses. The chapel tent was also a reading room, where, owing to the energy of Chaplain Fox, all the principal papers, secular and religious, literary, military, pictorial, agricultural and scientific, were furnished; and these were a great source both of pleasure and profit to the men.