Our corps was reviewed by General Grant; by the Russian admiral and suite, who for the amusement of the soldiers, performed some most ludicrous feats in horsemanship; and by a body of English officers. Never had such general good health prevailed among our camps, and never were the men so well contented or in so good spirits.



CHAPTER XXIII.

THE WILDERNESS CAMPAIGN.

Preparing to leave camp—General Grant in command—The last advance across the Rapidan—The battle-ground—Battle of the Wilderness—Noble fight of Getty's division—Hancock's fight on the left—Rickett's division driven back—The ground retaken—The wounded—Duties of the surgeons—The noble dead.

Many pleasant recollections cluster around the old camp at Brandy Station, which will never be effaced from the memory of the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac.

But at length preparations were commenced for opening the spring campaign, and one of the first orders, looking toward the breaking up of our camps, was one directing that our lady friends should take their departure, then another to send all superfluous camp equipage to the rear.

Our army had been reorganized, its five corps being consolidated into three. The three divisions of the First corps were transferred to the Fifth, retaining their corps badges. Two divisions of the Third were assigned to the Second, preserving their badges, while the Third division, Third corps, was transferred permanently to the Sixth corps, and became the Third division of that corps. Our old Third division was broken up, the brigades of Wheaton and Eustis being transferred to the Second division, and Shaler's brigade to the First. Our corps, as reorganized, consisted of three divisions, comprising eleven brigades.[6]

[6] The corps, as reorganized, was commanded as follows:

Major-General John Sedgwick commanding the corps.

First division, Brigadier-General H. G. Wright, commanding. First brigade, Colonel W. H. Penrose; Second brigade, Colonel E. Upton; Third brigade, Brigadier-General D. A. Russell; Fourth brigade, Brigadier-General A. Shaler.

Second division, Brigadier-General George W. Getty, commanding. First brigade, Brigadier-General Frank Wheaton; Second brigade, Colonel L. A. Grant; Third brigade, Brigadier-General Thomas H. Neill; Fourth brigade, Brigadier-General L. A. Eustis.

Third division, Brigadier-General James B. Ricketts, commanding. First brigade, Brigadier-General W. H. Morris; Second brigade, Brigadier-General Truman Seymour; Third brigade, Colonel Keiffer.

During the winter, congress, recognizing the great ability of General Grant, had conferred upon that officer the rank of Lieutenant-General, giving him, under the President, command of all the armies of the United States. General Grant at once proceeded to adopt a plan for harmonious movements of all the armies. General Sherman, in the west, was directed to push vigorously southward, penetrating the enemy's country as far as possible, and prevent reinforcements being sent to Lee's army in the east. General Butler, on the Peninsula, was to advance on Richmond, taking Petersburgh, and, if possible, Richmond itself, while the Army of the Potomac was to attack Lee's army in the front, and force it back upon Richmond or destroy it.

These cooeperative movements having been all arranged, each commander of an army or department informed not only of the part which he was expected to perform himself, but what all were expected to do, the Army of the Potomac was ready to move. General Grant had established his head-quarters with that army.

At length the order for moving came. On the morning of the 4th of May, reveille was sounded at half-past two o'clock, and at half-past four the Sixth corps moved, taking the road to Germania Ford.

It was a lovely day, and all nature seemed rejoicing at the advent of spring. Flowers strewed the wayside, and the warble of the blue bird, and the lively song of the sparrow, were heard in the groves and hedges.

The distance from our camps to Germania Ford was sixteen miles. This distance we marched rapidly, and long before sunset we had crossed the ford on pontoon bridges and marched to a point three miles south of the river, where we bivouacked for the night.

The Second corps, at an earlier hour, had crossed at Ely's Ford, and had reached a position near the old Chancellorsville battle-field, and the Fifth corps had led the way across Germania Ford.

The infantry had been preceded by the cavalry divisions of Gregg and Wilson, under Sheridan. They had fallen in with a small picket force which, after exchanging a few shots, had beat a hasty retreat.

Before night the army and the greater part of our trains had effected a crossing without opposition; and, doubtless, much to the surprise and chagrin of General Lee, we were holding strong positions, from which it would hardly be possible to force us.

Except slight skirmishes in front of Hancock's Second corps, there was no fighting on the fourth of May. At seven o'clock on the morning of the fifth, the Sixth corps moved southward about two miles on the Wilderness plank road. Here the corps rested until eleven o'clock, while artillery and cavalry passed along the road in a continuous column. At eleven o'clock the corps faced to the front, and advanced into the woods which skirted the road.

The Sixth corps now occupied the extreme right of the line, General Warren's Fifth corps the center, and Hancock's Second corps was on the left, near Chancellorsville. Between Warren and Hancock was an unoccupied space—a point of vital importance to our line. Thither General Getty, with the First, Second and Fourth brigades of our Second division, was sent to hold the ground till Hancock, who was ordered to come up, should arrive. Our Third brigade being all that was left of the Second division, it was assigned to the First division. General Meade's head-quarters were just in rear of the Fifth corps. The wood through which our line was now moving was a thick growth of oak and walnut, densely filled with a smaller growth of pines and other brushwood; and in many places so thickly was this undergrowth interwoven among the large trees, that one could not see five yards in front of the line. Yet, as we pushed on, with as good a line as possible, the thick tangle in a measure disappeared, and the woods were more open. Still, in the most favorable places, the thicket was so close as to make it impossible to manage artillery or cavalry, and, indeed, infantry found great difficulty in advancing, and at length we were again in the midst of the thick undergrowth.

Warren's corps, on our left, was already fighting, and forcing the enemy to retire from his front, when our own corps struck the rebel skirmishers, who steadily fell back, disputing the ground. As our line advanced, it would suddenly come upon a line of gray-coated rebels, lying upon the ground, covered with dried leaves, and concealed by the chapparal, when the rebels would rise, deliver a murderous fire, and retire.

We thus advanced through this interminable forest more than a mile and a half, driving the rebel skirmishers before us, when we came upon their line of battle, which refused to retire.

Neill's brigade and the New Jersey brigade were in the first line of battle, at the foot of a slope, and in the rear of these two brigades were Russell's, Upton's and Shaler's. On the left of the First division were Seymour's and Keiffer's brigades, General Morris with his brigade remaining on the right.

The enemy now charged upon our lines, making a desperate effort to turn our right flank, but without avail. Again and again the rebels in columns rushed with the greatest fury upon the two brigades in front, without being able to move them from their position. At half-past three o'clock our sufferings had been so great that General Sedgwick sent a messenger to General Burnside, who had now crossed his corps at Germania Ford, with a request that he would send a division to our assistance.

The assistance was promised, but an order from General Grant made other disposition of the division, and what remained of the noble old Sixth corps was left to hold its position alone. At four, or a little later, the rebels retired, leaving many of their dead upon the ground, whom they were unable to remove. In these encounters the Seventh Maine and Sixty-first Pennsylvania regiments of Neill's brigade, who were on the right flank, received the heaviest onsets, and suffered most severely. At one time the Maine regiment found itself flanked by a brigade of rebels. Changing front the gallant regiment charged to the rear and scattered its opponents in confusion. The opposing lines were upon the two slopes of a ravine, through which ran a strip of level marshy ground, densely wooded like the rest of the wilderness. The confederates now commenced to strengthen the position on their side of the ravine, felling timber and covering it with earth. The woods resounded with the strokes of their axes, as the busy workmen plied their labor within three hundred yards, and in some places less than one hundred yards of our line, yet so dense was the thicket that they were entirely concealed from our view.

Meanwhile the battle had raged furiously along the whole line. The rattle of musketry would swell into a full continuous roar as the simultaneous discharge of ten thousand guns mingled in one grand concert, and then after a few minutes, become more interrupted, resembling the crash of some huge king of the forest when felled by the stroke of the woodman's axe. Then would be heard the wild yells which always told of a rebel charge, and again the volleys would become more terrible and the broken, crashing tones would swell into one continuous roll of sound, which presently would be interrupted by the vigorous manly cheers of the northern soldiers, so different from the shrill yell of the rebels, and which indicated a repulse of their enemies. Now and then the monotony of the muskets was broken by a few discharges of artillery, which seemed to come in as a double bass in this concert of death, but so impenetrable was the forest that little use was made of artillery, and the work of destruction was carried on with the rifles.

Warren's corps, first engaged, had nobly withstood the fierce assaults upon the center of the line, and had even advanced considerably. Hancock's command was also hotly engaged. In the commencement of the battle, three brigades of the Second division, the First, Second and Fourth, with our commander, General Getty, were taken from the Sixth corps and sent to the right of Warren's corps, to seize and hold the intersection of the Brock road and the Orange county turnpike, a point of vital importance, and which, as Hancock's corps was still far to the left near Chancellorsville, was entirely exposed. Toward this point Hill was hastening his rebel corps down the turnpike, with the design of interposing between Hancock and the main army. No sooner had the division reached the crossing of the two roads than the First brigade, General Wheaton's, became hotly engaged with Hill's corps, which was coming down the road driving some of our cavalry before it. The Vermont brigade quickly formed on the left of the plank road, and the Fourth brigade on the right of the First. The engagement became general at once, and each brigade was suffering heavy losses. The men hugged the ground closely, firing as rapidly as possible.

Hancock's corps was advancing from the left, but thus far the division was holding the ground alone. An attack by the three brigades was ordered, and the line was considerably advanced. Again the men hugged the ground, the rebels doing the same.

Thus, holding the ground against vastly superior numbers, the division sustained the weight of the rebel attacks until long after noon, when some of Hancock's regiments came to its support. With the heroic valor for which the division was so well known throughout the army, it withstood the force of the rebels until its lines were terribly thinned. The First brigade had held the ground with desperate valor, and our friends, the Vermonters, fought with that gallantry which always characterized the sons of the Green Mountain State. Their noblest men were falling thickly, yet they held the road.

As Hancock joined his corps on the left of Getty's division, he ordered a charge along the whole line, and again the carnage became fearful. For two hours the struggle continued, and when the sounds of battle became less, and as darkness finally came over the wilderness, it brought a season of respite to the hard fought divisions.

A thousand brave men of the Vermont brigade, and nearly as many of Wheaton's brigade, with hundreds from the Fourth brigade, had fallen upon that bloody field.

In the evening the contest was renewed, especially along the line of the Sixth corps, and the dark woods were lighted with the flame from the mouths of tens of thousands of muskets.

Charges and counter-charges followed each other in quick succession, and the rebel yell and northern cheer were heard alternately, but no decided advantage was gained by either party. At two o'clock at night the battle died away, but there was no rest for the weary soldiers after the fatiguing duties of the day. Each man sat with musket in hand during the wearisome hours of the night, prepared for an onset of the enemy. Skirmishing was kept up during the entire night, and at times the musketry would break out in full volleys, which rolled along the opposing lines until they seemed vast sheets of flame.

The position of the two armies on the morning of the 6th was substantially that of the day before; the Sixth corps on the right, its rear on Wilderness Run near the old Wilderness Tavern, the Fifth corps next on its left, and the Second corps with three brigades of the Second division Sixth corps, on the left; the line extending about five miles. Besides these corps, General Burnside was bringing his troops into the line.

Between the two armies lay hundreds of dead and dying men whom neither army could remove, and over whose bodies the fight must be renewed.

The battle was opened at daylight by a fierce charge of the enemy on the Sixth corps, and soon it raged along the whole line. The volleys of musketry echoed and reechoed through the forests like peals of thunder, and the battle surged to and fro, now one party charging, and now the other, the interval between the two armies being fought over in many places as many as five times, leaving the ground covered with dead and wounded. Those of the wounded able to crawl, reached one or the other line, but the groans of others, who could not move, lent an additional horror to the terrible scene whenever there was a lull in the battle. At ten o'clock the roar of battle ceased, and from that time until five P.M., it was comparatively quiet in front of the Sixth corps, but from the left where Hancock's corps and Getty's braves were nobly battling, the war of musketry was incessant. There, Hancock had formed his troops in several lines of battle, and advanced them upon the plank road. Getty's troops, their ranks having been so terribly shattered the day before, were allowed to form in the rear. The attack was commenced, but presently the enemy came down in terrible fury upon Hancock's lines. One after another was swept away, leaving no Union troops in front of Getty. Now the exulting rebels came with stunning force against the Sixth corps men. They had prepared breastworks of logs and decayed wood, and against these light defenses the rebels charged, but only to meet with a deadly repulse. Again and again the charge was renewed, and as often the brave men who had seen nearly three thousand of their comrades fall on the day before, sent the confederates back from the road. At length, the divisions on the right and left of Getty having fallen back to the Brock road, the division was forced to fall back to the road also, but only after exhibiting a steadiness and valor rarely equaled by any troops.

The road was held, in spite of every effort of the enemy to take it; but the noble soldier and patriotic gentleman, General Wadsworth, lost his life while striving to rally his division to hold the ground against the confederates.

Although the storm of battle had abated in our front, the rebels had stationed sharpshooters in the trees and other advantageous positions, who kept up an incessant and annoying fire, and now and then a shell from a rebel battery would drop into our ranks. By these, the corps lost many men.

Until the evening of the 6th, our Third brigade of the Second division, and the New Jersey brigade of the First division of the Sixth corps, had occupied the right of the line of battle along the base of our slope of the ravine. Other portions of the First division, and the Third division, occupying a position in our rear, on the summit of the slope, had been engaged during the day in throwing up earthworks. At 5 P.M., the two advance brigades received orders to fall back to the cover of these breastworks.

For thirty hours the Sixth corps, stripped of three brigades of its veteran troops, weary from fighting and fasting, had been patiently waiting for the relief promised it long ago, and steadily holding its ground until half of the advance brigades and almost half of the corps was destroyed.

Thirty hours before, General Sedgwick had sent word that the rebels were trying to turn our flank, and begged that support might be sent; but no support had come. These breastworks had been prepared to give the exhausted corps a little protection, that they might, by falling back to their cover, occupy a stronger and less exposed position.

Soon after five o'clock, the brigades commenced falling back to these works. The rebels discovered the movement, and thought it was a retreat. They were evidently already prepared for a desperate assault upon our flank; and now that there seemed a retreat, there was no longer any hesitation. Cheer after cheer arose from the rebel ranks, and, in fifteen minutes after, their yells were mingled with terrific volleys of musketry, as they poured in overwhelming numbers upon our flanks.

A brief description of the position will explain the nature of the movement, which lost to the Sixth corps the position it had held for a day and a half.

When the brigades which had occupied the base of the slope fell back to the breastworks, the line of battle was arranged thus: on the extreme right was the Third division—a division but a few days before joined to the corps—a division composed mostly of new troops who had never before faced an enemy, and none of them had ever had any connection with the already historic fame of that glorious corps. Next on the left was the First division, and joining this division on the left was our own Third brigade of the Second division.

The assault of the rebels fell upon the green troops of the Third division, who, seized with consternation, fled in confusion without attempting resistance. General Seymour whose gallant conduct up to this time had won for him the admiration of all, made desperate attempts to rally his panic-stricken brigade and refused to go to the rear with them. While thus striving vainly to restore order to his shattered command, rushing to the front and attempting by his own manner to inspire courage in his men, he was surrounded by the enemy and captured. He had but just returned from the rebel prisons where he had been since the unfortunate battle of Olustee.

The hasty flight of the Third division opened the flank and rear of the First division to the charge of the rebels, who now rushed on with redoubled fury and with demoniac yells, carrying everything before them. The First division fell back, but not in the disorder and confusion of the other. General Shaler, with a large part of his brigade, which held that part of the line joining the Third division, was captured while vainly striving to resist the onset of the rebel forces.

The regiments of our Third brigade were forced from the rifle pits, leaving the Seventy-seventh regiment and a part of the Forty-third alone contending the ground, exposed to a galling fire on front, flank and rear. The gallant regiments remained in the breastworks, pouring their fire into the enemy's ranks until ordered to withdraw, to save themselves from capture.

The right wing, if not the whole army, was now in danger. It was at such times that the great spirit of the noble Sedgwick rose to the control of events. It seemed to require adversity to bring out all the grand qualities of his nature. We had witnessed his imperturbable bravery and determination on the retreat to Banks' Ford, his unsurpassed heroism at Antietam, when he kept the field after he was thrice wounded, was familiar to the nation, and now we were to see another manifestation of his indomitable courage.

Rushing here and there, regardless of personal safety, he faced the disordered mass of fugitives of the Third division, and with threats and entreaties prevailed upon them to halt; then turning to the veterans of the First division, he shouted to them to remember the honor of the old Sixth corps. That was an irresistible appeal, and the ranks of the First division and of our Third brigade were formed along the turnpike, which was at right angles to our former position. The corps now charged upon the exultant foe, and forced them back until our breastworks were recaptured; but our flank was too much exposed, and again the enemy charged upon our front and flank, forcing the corps to wheel back to the turnpike, where it had first rallied.

General Sedgwick now ordered another charge, and bravely the men rushed forward, ready to obey any order from the revered lips of "Uncle John." The enemy was again forced back, and again the corps occupied the breastworks. It was now dark, but the roar of musketry mingled with the deep toned artillery shook the ground, and the dense forest was lighted by the scores of thousands of flashing rifles which sent death to unseen foes.

The corps had not recovered its line of works without sacrifice, for the ground in our rear was covered with our fallen comrades, while many more had been captured by the enemy. But we were now able to hold the ground. The temporary disorder had arisen, and had been mostly confined to the new troops, and even these, when rallied from their momentary confusion, had fought with heroic valor. Although, for a time, forced back by the surprise of the rebel onset, the old troops of the corps had shown no want of courage. The Sixth corps proper had not lost its pristine glory. Something of a panic had been created among the teamsters in the rear, and before dark the trains were hurrying toward Chancellorsville.

Leaving the excitement of the battle, let us now turn where the results of this carnage are seen in their sober reality. While we stand in line of battle we see little of the frightful havoc of war. The wounded drop about us, but, except those left on disputed ground and unable to crawl away, they are carried instantly to the rear. The groans and cries of the wounded and dying, of which we so often read as filling up the grand discord of sounds on the battle-field, are things scarcely known in actual war. Rarely, as in the present battles, wounded men, unable to get away, are left between the lines in such numbers that, when the musketry dies away, their groans become heart-rending. But this is not usual.

But at the field hospitals, the work of destruction is seen in all its horrors. There, wounded men by thousands are brought together, filling the tents and stretched upon every available spot of ground for many rods around. Surgeons, with never tiring energy, are ministering to their wants, giving them food, dressing their wounds or standing at the operating table removing the shattered fragments of limbs. Men wounded in every conceivable way, men with mutilated bodies, with shattered limbs and broken heads, men enduring their injuries with heroic patience, and men giving way to violent grief, men stoically indifferent, and men bravely rejoicing that it is only a leg. To all these the surgeons are to give such relief as lies in their power, a task the very thoughts of which would overcome physicians at home, but upon which the army surgeon enters with as much coolness and confidence as though he could do it all at once. He has learned to do what he can. Contenting himself with working day and night without respite, and often without food, until, by unremitting but quiet toil, the wants of all are relieved. No class of men in the army perform so great labors with so little credit as the surgeons.

Lest the author should be accused of undue partiality for his own staff, he will quote the words of an unprejudiced witness, who, in speaking of the labor, the anxiety and the responsibility imposed upon the surgeons after a great battle, says:

"The devotion, the solicitude, the unceasing efforts to remedy the defects of the situation, the untiring attentions to the wounded, upon their part, were so marked as to be apparent to all who visited the hospitals. It must be remembered that these same officers had endured the privations and fatigues of the long forced marches with the rest of the army; they had shared its dangers, for one medical officer from each regiment follows it into battle, and is liable to the accidents of war, as has been repeatedly and fatally the case; that its field hospitals are often, from the changes of the line of battle, brought under fire of the enemy, and that while in this situation these surgeons are called upon to exercise the calmest judgment, to perform the most critical and serious operations, and this quickly and continuously. The battle ceasing, their labors continue. While other officers are sleeping, renewing their strength for further efforts, the medical are still toiling. They have to improvise hospitals from the rudest materials, are obliged to 'make bricks without straw,' to surmount seeming impossibilities. The work is unending both by day and night, the anxiety is constant, and the strain upon both the physical and mental faculties unceasing. Thus, after this battle, operators had to be held up while performing the operations, and fainted from exhaustion the operation finished. One completed his labors to be seized with partial paralysis, the penalty of his over exertion.

"While his duties are as arduous, his exposure as great, and the mortality from disease and injury as large as among other staff officers of similar rank, the surgeon has no prospect of promotion, of a brevet or an honorable mention, to stimulate him. His duties are performed quietly, unostentatiously. He does his duty for his country's sake, for the sake of humanity."[7]

[7] J. H. Douglass, Assistant Secretary Sanitary Commission.

The labors of the medical officers had never been so great as at these battles. Thousands of wounded men were stretched in and about the several field hospitals, and long trains of ambulances, loaded with more bleeding victims, were constantly bringing in new subjects of care.

The hospitals of the Sixth corps were located, that of the First division about a large house near the turnpike, in rear of the position of the division; that of the Third division was near by, and the hospital of our Second division was placed on the banks of Wilderness Run, near the old gold mine, and within a few rods of General Meade's head-quarters. The hospitals of the Fifth corps were also within a short distance, on the left.

At the hospital of our Second division, the scene was one of activity and sadness. Never had so many of our choice spirits been brought to the rear, and never had the division been bereft of so many of its brightest ornaments by death.

All the hospital tents belonging to the division were filled to overflowing with the unfortunate victims of the battle. There, all the space between the different rows of tents, and for many yards in front and rear, was covered with others, for whom there was no room under the canvas, and, finally, long rows of them were laid upon the ground at a little distance from the hospitals as close as they could lie, covering many rods of ground.

In the operating tents, the surgeons assigned to the duty of performing operations plied their work without rest from the time the battle commenced until its close, day and night, while dressers, and those whose duty it was to supply the wounded with food, were untiring in their zeal.

At midnight of the 6th, the operators were directed to cease their work. Ambulances and army wagons in great numbers were loaded with the wounded, and the whole train, accompanied by the surgeons, moved toward Chancellorsville, taking the turnpike along the rear of the army. But, with all the ambulances and army wagons at command, hundreds of these unfortunate heroes were left behind; and as it was known that our line of battle was to fall back within a few hours, preparations were made for their care when they should fall into the hands of the enemy. Four assistant surgeons from each division, a number of hospital tents, a supply of hard bread and beef, with dressings and instruments, were left behind; and with sad hearts, their companions bade them farewell. Like preparations were made by the other corps, for those of the wounded who must be left to their fate. The long train bearing the wounded reached the left of the old battle-field of Chancellorsville toward morning, and at once the labor of reestablishing the hospitals commenced. Tents were erected, the ambulances unloaded, and the surgeons, already worn out by forty hours of incessant toil, resumed their work.

When the Sixth corps reoccupied the breastworks at dark on the 6th, it was desirable that the right flank should be protected by old and reliable troops. Neill's Third brigade was assigned to that position, the Seventy-seventh being upon the extreme right, the Sixty-first Pennsylvania thrown out at right angles to protect the rear. On the left of the Seventy-seventh was the Forty-ninth New York, the Seventh Maine was next, then the One Hundred and Twenty-second, and the Forty-third New York was on the left of the brigade.

All was now quiet. No sound was heard except now and then the suppressed tones of officers in command. The stars shone through the openings among the trees upon a long line of dusky forms lying close behind the sheltering breastworks, as silent as death but ready at an instant to pour out a storm of destruction. A row of bayonets projected over the breastworks; an abattis of steel awaiting the momentarily expected onset of the enemy.

At ten o'clock the low tones of command of the rebel officers were heard as they urged their men against our rear and flank. Colonel Smith of the Sixty-first Pennsylvania, ordered his men to lie down, for they had no breastworks, and to reserve their fire. Nearer and nearer came the dark line, until within twenty feet of the recumbent Pennsylvanians, but not a sound from them. Still nearer the rebel line approached, to within a distance of ten feet, when the sharp command rang out, "Fire;" and rising the Pennsylvanians delivered a withering fire into the rebel ranks that sent them reeling back into the darkness from whence they came; but a line of prostrate forms where the fire from our line had met the advancing column, told of its terrible execution. Twenty minutes after this repulse they advanced silently but in stronger force, directly in front of our breastworks. They advanced slowly and in silence until within a few feet of the Union line, when with wild yells they leaped forward, some even mounting the breastworks. But a sheet of flame instantly flashed along the whole line of our works; the astonished rebels wavered for a moment and then beat a hasty retreat, relinquishing with this last desperate effort the attempt to drive back the old Sixth corps.

Scarcely a man of the Union force was injured by this charge, but the dead and wounded from the rebel ranks literally covered the ground. There was no help for them. Our men were unable even to take care of their own wounded which lay scattered through the woods in the rear. So the rebel wounded lay between the two armies, making the night hideous with their groans.

The battle of the 6th was now at an end, neither party having gained any decided advantage.

At midnight the Sixth corps fell back upon the plank road to the vicinity of the old gold mine mill, where our hospitals had been. Intrenchments were thrown up and the position was held without much annoyance from the rebels all the next day. The whole line of the army remained quiet on the 7th, only a few skirmishes along different parts of the line, relieving the monotony of the day.

The two days of fighting had told fearfully upon our ranks. Our regiments which a few hours before were well filled, were now but fragments of regiments; and our hearts were weighed down with heavy grief when we thought of the many grand spirits who had left us forever since we crossed the Rapidan.

We thought of the young colonel of the Forty-third, Wilson, beloved and admired throughout the corps. His death was a heavy blow to us all. We should miss his soldierly presence on the parade; his winning pleasantry in our social circles; we were no longer to enjoy his beautiful example of unswerving christian morality. His manly form was no longer to be our pride, and his heroic valor would never again be manifest on the field of battle.

Major Fryer had received his mortal hurt. Fryer was young and gallant; his handsome form and brilliant eye were in fine harmony with those of his friend and superior. "In their lives they were beautiful, and in their death they were not divided."

Captain Hickmot, too, of the Forty-ninth was among the slain. Surely death loves a shining mark, and with what terrible precision had he chosen his victims. Hickmot's bright eye was glazed in death. His gayety was hushed forever. We remembered now his hearty laugh, his friendly words and his purity of character, and knew that they were ours only in memory.

Wallace of the Forty-third and Terry of the Forty-ninth, too, were gone. Colonel Ryerson, the gallant commander of the Tenth New Jersey, was mortally wounded.

In the Seventy-seventh we had lost Craig; a youth of rare qualities and of stern patriotism.

The Vermont brigade had lost many of its brightest ornaments. Colonel Barney of the Sixth was one of Vermont's best men. A kind yet faithful commander in camp, gallant and fearless on the field. He was the highest type of a man; a christian gentleman. Colonel Stone had been killed instantly on the 5th. His urbane manners were remembered by all who frequented our division head-quarters, and his bravery had endeared him to his men. Colonel Tyler, too, of the Second was among the mortally wounded, and all felt his loss deeply.

Captains Bixby, of the Second, Bartlett and Buck, of the Third, Carpenter and Farr, of the Fourth, Ormsbee and Hurlburt, of the Fifth, and Bird and Randall, of the Sixth—all men of bravery and patriotism, all beloved as companions and valued as officers—were among the dead or dying. But among Vermont's fallen sons was no more ardent patriot or gallant soldier than Captain George D. Davenport, of the Fifth. His manly bearing, his brilliant intellect, his ready wit, his social virtues and his well known bravery, combined to render him a favorite officer in his brigade, while to those who were bound to him by the ties of fellowship, his disinterested love and noble generosity rendered his friendship of inestimable value.

These were a few among the many noble names of fallen heroes. Never were grander men sacrificed for a noble cause than they.

General Getty and General Morris and Colonel Keiffer were among the wounded, and we had lost General Shaler and General Seymour, captured by the enemy.

General Neill succeeded to the command of the Second division, and Colonel Bidwell assumed the command vacated by General Neill.



CHAPTER XXIV.

SPOTTSYLVANIA.

Moving by the flank—The wounded abandoned—The Fifth Corps at Spottsylvania—Arrival of the Sixth Corps—Getting into line—Death of Sedgwick—General Wright in command—Battle of the 10th of May—Upton's splendid charge—Battle at "the angle"—Another flank movement.

By this time General Grant, finding the rebel position too strong to force in front, and finding, by reconnoissance, that the enemy had fallen back to strong works where he awaited attack, determined to throw the army between Lee's army and Richmond, and accordingly ordered the first of that wonderful series of flank movements that have become the admiration of the world. The Fifth and Sixth corps withdrew with secrecy from the line held by them, and falling into the rear of the rest of the army, marched rapidly from the right to the left flank toward Spottsylvania. The Sixth corps, taking the Chancellorsville road, reached the old battle-field at daylight, and halted for breakfast near the ruins of the historic Chancellor House. The Fifth corps taking a more direct road to Spottsylvania, and being unencumbered with the train, marched rapidly and reached Piney Branch Church, a little hamlet in the midst of the woods, about five miles north of Spottsylvania Court House, at nine o'clock in the morning. These two corps were quickly followed by the Ninth and Second corps, leaving the old wilderness field entirely in the hands of the enemy.

Another of those distressful necessities of war occurred on withdrawing from the Wilderness. Wounded men of the Fifth and Sixth corps had already been left on the site of the hospitals near the old gold mine mills, and now hundreds more from every corps were abandoned for want of sufficient transportation. Let it not be thought that the Army of the Potomac was deficient in ambulances. Our hospital train was immense, yet insufficient for such an emergency as the present. To have provided a train sufficient for such a time, would have been to incumber the army with an enormous establishment, which would so interfere with its movements as to defeat the very object in view. The present was one of those terrible but unavoidable contingencies which must sometimes occur in war.

Trains had returned and brought away some of the wounded left at the old gold mine, but many were still there; and now, again, as we loaded ambulances and army wagons to their utmost capacity, making a train of many miles in extent, some two hundred of the wounded of our Sixth corps were left upon the ground. It was, indeed, a sickening thought that these noble fellows, who had nobly fallen in their country's cause, must be abandoned to the enemy, many of them, perhaps the majority of them, to die in their hands. All communication with their friends at home hopelessly cut off, and with no expectation of any but the roughest treatment from their enemies, it was a sad prospect for the unfortunate ones. Medical officers from each corps were directed to remain and care for those thus left behind, and a limited supply of rations and medicines were also left. Surgeon Phillips, of the Third Vermont, and Assistant Surgeon Thompson, of the Seventy-seventh New York, were the detail to remain behind from the Second division. They stayed with our wounded among the rebels for several weeks, faithfully ministering to their wants, until nearly all had been removed to Richmond, when, one day, learning that those remaining were to be sent south on the following day, they made their escape by night. By traveling throughout the night and hiding in the woods by day, they made their way across the Rapidan, and finally reached Washington in safety.

The Fifth corps, having taken the most direct road to Spottsylvania, arrived at Piney Branch Church at nine o'clock on the morning of the 8th, where the infantry skirmishers of the enemy were encountered. Gregg's division of cavalry had been for some time engaged with the rebel cavalry; but the cavalry had not discovered the infantry of the enemy before the approach of the Fifth corps. Two divisions of the Fifth corps were at once formed in line of battle, Bartlett's brigade of Griffin's division being sent ahead as skirmishers. As the corps advanced, the skirmishers of the enemy steadily withdrew, until they reached a large clearing, called Alsop's Farm, along the rear of which ran a small stream, the river Ny, about three miles north of Spottsylvania. Here the enemy was formed in force, with a line of strong earthworks. An attack was ordered, and bravely Warren's men advanced against the breastworks of the enemy; but their efforts to drive the rebels were unavailing. The field was composed of a succession of ridges, dotted here and there with clumps of pines and oaks, while the country in rear, through which the corps had already pressed the opposing skirmishers, was a wilderness of trees. The rebels had their artillery well posted, and they hurled a fierce storm of shells among the advancing lines, arresting their advance. The enemy in turn charged upon the Fifth corps, but the Union boys fought with desperation, repelling every charge and holding their ground. Our troops behaved magnificently, yet they were unable to push their advance further.

It was now evident that Lee, anticipating Grant's strategy, had set about thwarting it. As soon as our troops were withdrawn from Wilderness Run, Lee had hastened Ewell's corps and a part of Longstreet's on an inner road to Spottsylvania, and these troops now confronted us and disputed our advance.

Such was the situation when the Sixth corps arrived on the field at two o'clock in the afternoon. The day had been the most sultry of the season, and many of the men, overcome by the intensity of the heat, and exhausted by the constant fighting and marching since the morning of the 4th, had fallen by the wayside. The corps halted for about two hours, and was then ordered to the front to the assistance of Warren's corps, which was again hotly engaged with the enemy. We pressed forward along a narrow road leading through a thick growth of timber, until we came where the Fifth corps was contending the ground. The corps was drawn up in line of battle, but did not at once commence an attack.

Before us the ground was rolling and partially wooded, admirably adapted for defensive warfare. A wooded ravine, at a little distance from our front, concealed a rebel line of battle, and in our rear, were dense woods extending to the road along which our line was formed. These woods were on fire, and the hot blasts of air which swept over us, together with the burning heat of the sun, rendered our position a very uncomfortable one. Before long, however, the corps was ordered to the left, and took its position in the woods on the left of Warren's corps. Our Second division was formed in three lines with the view of attacking the enemy.

Soon after dark all things being ready, the division moved forward to the attack, but after some desperate fighting on the part of both the Fifth corps and our own division, finding the enemy too strongly posted, the attack was relinquished.

Toward midnight some changes of position were ordered, but, in the darkness, regiments lost their brigades, and wandered about in the woods until daylight, some narrowly escaping capture within the lines of the enemy.

There was little hard fighting on Monday the 9th, though skirmishing was briskly kept up along the whole line throughout the day. Our line of battle was now extended from northwest to southeast with Hancock's Second corps on the right, Warren's Fifth corps on the right center, Sedgwick's Sixth corps on the left center, and Burnside's Ninth corps on the extreme left. Our Second division was formed in a clearing on the side of a hill which sloped gradually until it reached a swamp, which, however, turned and passed through our line at our left. About three hundred yards in front of us was a strip of woods one-fourth of a mile wide, and beyond the woods an open field where the rebel forces were posted behind formidable earthworks. Just in our rear and on the crest of the hill, our batteries were posted so as to fire over our heads. On our right was a dense forest where the Fifth corps were posted, and on our left Burnside's troops occupied a more open country.

The whole line of the army was strengthened with breastworks of rails and logs, which the men procured in many cases from almost under the rebel guns, while the heavy mist of the morning concealed them from the view of their enemies. Over the logs and rails earth was thrown in quantity sufficient to protect the men from the shot and shell of the enemy.

Although there was little fighting on the 9th, it was a sad day for the Sixth corps and for the army; for on that day our corps lost its beloved commander, and the army a most distinguished soldier.

General Sedgwick, while standing behind an outer line of works, personally superintending and directing, as was his custom, the posting of a battery of artillery at an angle which he regarded as of great importance, was shot through the head by a rebel sharpshooter, and died instantly. The ball had entered his head just below the left eye, and passed out at the back of the head.

Never had such a gloom rested upon the whole army on account of the death of one man as came over it when the heavy tidings passed along the lines that General Sedgwick was killed.

Major-General John Sedgwick, who had so long been identified with the Sixth corps, was a native of Connecticut. He graduated at West Point on the 30th of June, 1837, and was at once assigned to the Second artillery, as second-lieutenant. In 1839, he was promoted to first-lieutenant. He served in Mexico, and was brevetted captain for gallant and meritorious conduct, in the battles of Contreras and Cherubusco. He was soon afterward brevetted major for gallant conduct, and greatly distinguished himself in the attack on Cosino gate, Mexico city. In 1845 he was made major of the First United States Cavalry, and served in Texas until the breaking out of the rebellion. In March, 1861, he was commissioned lieutenant-colonel, Second United States Cavalry; and in April promoted to the colonelcy of the Fourth Cavalry. He was made a brigadier-general of volunteers in August, 1861, and assigned to the command of a brigade in the Army of the Potomac.

He was afterward assigned to the command of the Third division, Second corps, then under General Sumner. He participated in the siege of Yorktown, and greatly distinguished himself in many battles on the Peninsula. He was particularly noted at the battle of Fair Oaks, Savage's Station, and Glendale. His division was one of the few divisions of the Army of the Potomac that rendered any assistance to General Pope in his unfortunate campaign.

At Antietam he led his men repeatedly against the rebels, and was as often forced back, until the ground over which his division had fought was covered with dead. He was thrice wounded, but refused to be carried from the field until faintness from loss of blood obliged him to relinquish his command.

In December, 1862, he was nominated by the President a major-general of volunteers, and was confirmed in March, 1863, with rank from the 31st of May, 1862.

In January following his promotion, he was assigned to the command of the Ninth corps, and, on the 5th of February, was transferred to the command of the Sixth corps, relieving General Smith, who was assigned to the Ninth corps.

Soon after taking command of our corps, the famous charge upon Fredericksburgh Heights was made, in which both the corps and its commander acquired lasting renown. General Sedgwick was especially commended by General Meade for the manner in which he handled his corps at Rappahannock Station, and, in General Meade's absence, he was several times in command of the army. He was, on several occasions, offered the supreme command of the army, but his excessive modesty forbade him to accept so important a command.

No soldier was more beloved by the army or honored by the country than this noble general. His corps regarded him as a father, and his great military abilities made his judgment, in all critical emergencies, sought after by his superior as well as his fellows. The command of the Sixth corps now devolved upon General Wright, who had long been well known in the corps as the commander of our First division, and who held the command of the corps from this time until it was disbanded in the autumn of 1865.

Monday night passed quietly. An occasional volley on the picket line would rouse us to arms, but there was no general assault, and the tired soldiers would throw themselves again upon the ground to catch a few moments more of rest.

Our position on Tuesday morning, May 10th, was the same as it had been the day previous. During the lull of battle on the 9th, both armies had gathered their strength and perfected their plans for a renewal of the contest, on a scale of magnificence seldom if ever witnessed by any army before. This was destined to be a day of most fearful carnage, and desperate attempts on the part of each antagonist to crush the other by the weight of its terrible charges.

Active skirmishing commenced along different portions of the line early in the morning, and continued to grow more and more general until the rattle of the skirmishers' rifles grew into the reverberating roll of battle. From one end of the long line to the other the tide of battle surged, the musketry continually increasing in volume, until it seemed one continuous peal of thunder. During all the battles in the Wilderness, artillery had been useless, except when here and there a section could be brought in to command the roadway; but now all the artillery on both sides was brought into the work. It was the terrible cannonading of Malvern Hill with the fierce musketry of Gaines' Mills combined, that seemed fairly to shake the earth and skies. Never during the war had the two armies made such gigantic struggles for the destruction of each other.

At first the heavy assaults were made against the right wing—Hancock's and Warren's corps sustaining the principal shock of the enemy's repeated charges. Massing their forces against particular points of the line held by these two corps, the rebel generals would hurl their gray legions like an avalanche against our breastworks, hoping by the very momentum of the charge to break through our lines; but a most withering storm of leaden and iron hail would set the mass wavering, and finally send it back to the cover of the woods and earthworks in confusion, leaving the ground covered at each time with an additional layer of their dead. In turn, the men of the Fifth and Second corps would charge upon their adversaries, and in turn they too would be forced to seek shelter behind their rifle pits. Thus the tide of battle along the right of the line rolled to and fro, while the horrid din of musketry and artillery rose and swelled as the storm grew fiercer.

Meanwhile the Sixth and Ninth corps were quietly awaiting events, and it was not until six o'clock in the afternoon that the Sixth corps was called into action. Then it was to make one of the most notable charges on record.

At five o'clock the men of the corps were ordered to unsling knapsacks and divest themselves of every incumbrance preparatory to a charge. Colonel Upton commanding the Second brigade of the First division, was directed to take twelve picked regiments from the corps and lead them in a charge against the right center of the rebel line. The regiments which shared the dearly purchased honor of this magnificent charge were, in the first line, the One Hundred and Twenty-first New York, the Fifth Maine, the Ninety-sixth and One Hundred and Nineteenth Pennsylvania; in the second line the Seventy-seventh and Forty-third New York, the Fifth Wisconsin, Sixth Maine and Forty-ninth Pennsylvania; and in the third line, the Second, Fifth and Sixth Vermont. It was indeed an honor to be selected for this duty, but it was an honor to be paid for at the cost of fearful peril.

The twelve regiments assembled on the open space in front of our works, then silently entered the strip of woods which was between our line and that of the rebels. Passing through to the further edge of the woods, the twelve regiments were formed in columns of three lines, each line consisting of four regiments.

The regiments of the Second division, not included in the charging column, formed in the rear, to act as support, but did not advance to the charge.

As the regiments took their places, they threw themselves upon the ground, and all orders were given in suppressed tones, for the rebels were but a hundred yards distant, in the open field, and the minies of their skirmishers were whistling among the trees and brushwood.

The other corps of the army were prepared, in case this charging party succeeded in breaking the enemy's line, to rush in and turn the success into a rout of the rebels. Generals Meade, Hancock, Warren and Burnside stationed themselves on eminences, from which they could watch the success of the perilous enterprise.

At six o'clock all things were ready, and the artillery from the eminences in our rear opened a terrific fire, sending the shells howling and shrieking over the heads of the charging column, and plunging into the works of the enemy. This was the signal for the attack, and Colonel Upton's clear voice rang out, "Attention, battalions! Forward, double-quick! Charge!" and in an instant every man was on his feet, and, with tremendous cheers, which were answered by the wild yells of the rebels, the column rushed from the cover of the woods. Quick as lightning, a sheet of flame burst from the rebel line, and the leaden hail swept the ground over which the column was advancing, while the canister from the artillery came crashing through our ranks at every step, and scores and hundreds of our brave fellows fell, literally covering the ground. But, nothing daunted, the noble fellows rushed upon the defenses, leaping over the ditch in front, and mounting the breastworks. The rebels made a determined resistance, and a hand to hand fight ensued, until, with their bayonets, our men had filled the rifle pits with bleeding rebels. About two thousand of the survivors of the struggle surrendered, and were immediately marched to the rear, under guard.

Without halting for breath, the impetuous column rushed toward the second line of works, which was equally as strong as the first. The resistance here was less stubborn than at the first line, yet the gray occupants of the rifle pits refused to fly, until forced back at the point of the bayonet.

Our ranks were now fearfully thinned, yet the brave fellows passed on to the third line of defenses which was also captured.

It was but a shattered remnant of that noble column that rushed from the woods against the hostile works, that reached this advanced point, and now, finding that reenforcements were reaching the enemy, while our column was every moment melting away, a retreat was ordered.

There was not even time to bring away the six pieces of artillery which we had captured; they were filled with sods and abandoned.

What remained of the twelve regiments retreated to the cover of our rifle pits, leaving the dead and most of the wounded in the enemy's hands.

The corps lost, in this charge, some of its ablest men. In the First brigade of the Second division Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton, of the Sixty-second New York, was killed. Captain Carpenter, of the Seventy-seventh, one of its first and best officers, and Lieutenant Lyon, a young officer of great bravery, were killed in the interior line of works, and many other noble fellows of that regiment were left on that fatal field. The regiment crossed the Rapidan six days before with over five hundred men, and now, after this charge, less than ninety men were left, and this is but an example of the losses to most of the regiments in that division.

The noise of the battle gradually died away as night threw her mantle over the fearful scene of carnage, and both armies were glad of a respite from their severe labors.

The 11th of May passed in making new arrangements and in sending the thousands of wounded to Fredericksburgh. Immense trains of ambulances and army wagons freighted with the mangled forms of wounded men were running day and night to Fredericksburgh, and returning with supplies.

Skirmishing was kept up along the line, but no general engagement was brought on. During the night the Second corps, General Hancock, silently withdrew from the position it had occupied on the right of the line, and marching along in the rear of the army occupied a position between the Sixth and Ninth corps, which was not before occupied. With great caution and silence preparations were made for a desperate attack upon that part of the enemy's line fronting this position. This line made here a sharp angle and by seizing this angle, it was hoped to turn the right flank of Lee's army. Between the position of the Second corps and the rebel works, the ground was covered with pines and underbrush, and as it neared the defenses ascended abruptly to a considerable height.

As soon as the gray light of the morning began to streak through the mists, all was in readiness for the charge, and with strictest orders of silence the corps in mass advanced rapidly across the field, the thick fog concealing the movement. As the column neared the rifle pits a storm of bullets met it; but charging impetuously up the hill and over the works, the rebels, surprised and overpowered, gave way; those who could escaping to the second line in the rear, though thousands were obliged to surrender on the spot, so complete had been the surprise. The victorious column now pushed on toward the second line of works, but here, the enemy by this time fully prepared for the attack, the resistance became more stubborn. The battle now raged with greatest fury. The Sixth corps was withdrawn from its position, leaving a strong picket line to guard its front, and marching along the rear of its works joined in the attack with the Second corps. The works taken by Hancock's corps, were occupied by the men of the Sixth corps, and the enemy commenced the most desperate efforts to retake them. Forming their troops in heavy columns they hurled them against our line with tremendous force. Russell's division held the center of the line of the corps at a point known as "the angle." This was the key to the whole position. Our forces held the rebel works from the left as far as this "angle," and the rebels still held the rest of the line. Whoever could hold "the angle" would be the victors; for with the angle, either party could possess themselves of the whole line of works. Hence the desperate efforts to drive us from this position. The First division being unable to maintain the position alone, the Second division was sent to its aid. And now, as the boys of the Second division took their places in the front, the battle became a hand to hand combat. A breastwork of logs separated the combatants. Our men would reach over this partition and discharge their muskets in the face of the enemy, and in return would receive the fire of the rebels at the same close range. Finally, the men began to use their muskets as clubs and then rails were used. The men were willing thus to fight from behind the breastworks, but to rise up and attempt a charge in the face of an enemy so near at hand and so strong in numbers required unusual bravery. Yet they did charge and they drove the rebels back and held the angle themselves. It was in one of these charges that the gallant Major Ellis of the Forty-ninth New York, was shot with a ramrod through the arm and in the side, from the effects of which he afterwards died. The trees in front of the position held by the Sixth corps during this remarkable struggle, were literally cut to pieces by bullets. Even trees more than a foot in diameter, were cut off by the constant action of bullets. A section of one of these was, and doubtless still is, in Washington, with a card attached stating that the tree was cut down in front of the position of the Second corps. Our gallant brothers of that corps won undying honors on that glorious day, but it was the long-continued, fearful musketry battle between the Sixth corps and the enemy which cut down those trees. We have no desire to detract from the well-deserved honors of the brave men of the Second corps, but this is a simple matter of justice. The conflict became more and more bloody, and soon the Fifth corps was also engaged, and at ten o'clock the battle rolled along the whole line. The terrible fighting continued till eleven o'clock, when there was a lull in the musketry, but the artillery continued its work of destruction. Thus the second line of works was taken, but not without fearful loss to both armies. Our corps had fought at close range for eight hours. Behind the works the rebel dead were lying literally piled one upon another, and wounded men were groaning under the weight of bodies of their dead companions. The loss to the rebels in prisoners and guns was also great.

Major-General Edward Johnson with his whole division, General Stewart, a brigade from Early's division and a whole regiment, including in all between three and four thousand prisoners and between thirty and forty guns, were the trophies of this glorious but bloody morning's work. These captures were nearly all made by the Second corps in the first assault in the morning.

The losses to the Sixth corps were great, but far less than on the 12th. The Seventy-seventh lost one of its finest officers. Captain O. P. Rugg was shot in the breast and died while being carried to the hospital. The captain was a young man of great promise, of genial and lively temperament and greatly beloved by his regiment. He had been married but a few months before his death, and had parted from his bride at Elmira just before the spring campaign opened.

The corps remained near the scene of action during the next day. Reconnoissances were made, and another attempt was made on the 14th to turn the right flank of the enemy. The Sixth corps, at three o'clock on the morning of that day, moved off to the left of our line about two miles and encamped about the Anderson House, but our pickets soon found the enemy in force in our front, and no attempt was made to bring on an engagement. The time passed quietly along the line, only occasionally the roar of artillery kept up something of excitement of battle. On the night of the 17th, the Sixth corps moved back to the scene of the battle of the 12th. At daylight three corps moved forward to attack the enemy's line. The Second corps forming the center of the line, the Sixth corps the right, and the Ninth corps the left. The first line of rifle pits were those which had been abandoned by us on the 12th. These were filled with rebel skirmishers, who readily gave way, leaving the works in our hands.

Our line of battle advanced till it confronted the second line of the rebel works. This was a strong line behind a thick impenetrable abattis and held by a powerful force. The three corps pressed this formidable line, and a sharp engagement ensued, but without advantage to our forces, and it was concluded that an attempt to dislodge the enemy could only result in a fearful waste of life. Accordingly the troops were quietly withdrawn, though submitted to a galling fire, having lost in the morning's work about eight hundred men.

In the afternoon the enemy attacked the Fifth corps on the left, but was driven back. The same afternoon the Sixth corps returned to the vicinity of the Anderson House, from which it had started on the evening previous; and orders were issued to be ready to march toward the North Anna.

General Grant, deeming it impracticable to make any further attempt to carry the rebel position at Spottsylvania by direct assault, had determined upon another flank movement; and his preparations were made for moving around the left flank of the enemy during the night of the 19th, and seizing a position on the North Anna. But late in the afternoon of the 19th, Ewell's rebel corps made a fierce assault upon the right of our line. Our forces gave the rebels a warm reception, and forced them back to the cover of their earthworks.

On the 20th, Aaron B. Quincy, a young soldier, beloved by all who knew him, was shot through the breast, and died in a few minutes. His faithful Christian character, his undoubted bravery, and his ardent patriotism, had endeared him to all.

On the night of the 21st, the flank movement was commenced. Withdrawing in silence, and first throwing the right corps in rear of the rest of the army and to its left, as at the Wilderness, the troops marched rapidly all night, halting for a few moments for breath once or twice, and then pressing forward again. During the next forenoon a halt of some hours occurred at Quincy Station, near the house where Stonewall Jackson died the year before. Then the march was renewed and continued till dark.

The Fifth and Sixth corps reached the banks of the North Anna on the evening of the 23d, and was soon followed by the Second and Ninth corps. Again the enemy, aware of our intentions, and having the shortest line, confronted us, and disputed the crossing; but, after considerable artillery practice, the Fifth corps succeeded in throwing their pontoon bridges and obtaining a position on the south bank. The enemy now attacked the corps with great vigor, but were repulsed with equal slaughter. The Sixth corps followed at four o'clock in the morning, and a little later the Second and Ninth corps also joined us. Strong breastworks were thrown up, and parties were sent to the front to reconnoiter the position.

A further advance of a few miles was made on the 25th, but finding the enemy in a stronger position than he had occupied either in the Wilderness or at Spottsylvania, General Grant determined again to withdraw and try his favorite flank movement. Accordingly, on the night of the 26th, the army was withdrawn to the north bank of the river. The night was very dark, and the mud deep. Several days' rain had rendered the roads, proverbial for their mud, almost impassable; but heeding no difficulties, the army followed without hesitation wherever our great leader directed. The Sixth corps, with two divisions of cavalry under Sheridan, who had now rejoined the army from his great raid on which he had started from Spottsylvania, took the advance. On Saturday, the 28th, the corps and the cavalry divisions, after a good deal of hard fighting, crossed the Pamunkey river, at Hanovertown. The cavalry, at once advancing several miles beyond the river, encountered a large force of rebel cavalry, which was driven back. The army encamped at Hanovertown, stretching from the river several miles southward.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE HOSPITALS AT FREDERICKSBURGH.

The journey from the battle-field—Sufferings of the wounded—A surgeon's letters—Rebel hatred—Assistance from the north—A father in search of his boy—The wounded sent to Washington.

Let us turn now from the field of battle to Fredericksburgh, that great depot for wounded men.

It will be recollected that, from Piney Branch church, the trains, with the wounded from the Wilderness, were sent to Fredericksburgh. Over a rough road, nearly fifteen miles, these unfortunate men, with shattered or amputated limbs, with shots through the lungs or head or abdomen, suffering the most excruciating pain from every jar or jolt of the ambulance or wagon, crowded as closely as they could be packed, were to be transported. Already they had been carted about over many miles of hard road, most of them having been carried from the old gold mine to Chancellorsville, and now again loaded and brought to Spottsylvania. They were worn out with fatigue and suffering, and yet there was much misery in store for them. Slowly the immense train labored over the rough road, now corduroy, now the remains of a worn out plank road, and anon a series of ruts and mud holes, until, at three o'clock on the morning of the 9th of May, the head of the train arrived in Fredericksburgh.

The train had been preceded by some three hundred men who were wounded but able to walk. Mayor Slaughter and other rebel citizens surrounded these unarmed men, made them prisoners and delivered them to some rebel cavalry, who took them to Richmond.

The process of unloading the wounded at once commenced; all the churches and other public buildings were first seized and filled. Negroes who could be found in town were pressed into the work, yet, with all the help that could be obtained, it was a slow process. All night and all the next day the work went on. The churches were filled first, then warehouses and stores, and then private houses, until the town was literally one immense hospital.

The surgeons were too much engaged in transferring the men from the wagons to the houses to find time that day to dress many wounds, and many an unfortunate soldier whose stump of an arm or leg had not been dressed since the first day of the fighting, became the victim of gangrene, which set in as the result of this unavoidable want of care. No sooner were the men removed from the ambulances than surgeons and nurses addressed themselves with all the strength that remained to them to relieve the immediate wants of the sufferers. Never before had such herculean labors been thrown upon so small a body of men, yet nobly did they accomplish the task. All the buildings in town were full of wounded men, the walks were covered with them, and long trains of ambulances were filling the streets with more. Yet to relieve the wants of all these thousands of suffering men not more than forty surgeons had been sent from the field.

It was one grand funeral; men were dropping away on every side. Large numbers of nurses were detailed as burial parties, and these plied their work day after day with hardly time for their needed rest.

Surgeons were completely worn out, and many of them, had to be sent to Washington, fairly broken down with their labors.

The following extract from a letter of a surgeon at Fredericksburgh to his wife, written on the 11th, may convey something of an idea of the experience of the medical officers during those terrible days. He says: "We are almost worked to death; my feet are terribly swollen; yet we cannot rest for there are so many poor fellows who are suffering. All day yesterday I worked at the operating table. That was the fourth day that I had worked at those terrible operations since the battle commenced, and I have also worked at the tables two whole nights and part of another. Oh! it is awful. It does not seem as though I could take a knife in my hand to-day, yet there are a hundred cases of amputations waiting for me. Poor fellows come and beg almost on their knees for the first chance to have an arm taken off. It is a scene of horror such as I never saw. God forbid that I should ever see another."

Again, the same officer writing a day or two later, says, "It is fearful. I see so many grand men dropping one by one. They are my acquaintances and my friends. They look to me for help, and I have to turn away heartsick at my want of ability to relieve their sufferings. Captain Walker of the Seventh Maine is dying to-night. He is a noble good man, and he looks in my face and pleads for help. Adjutant Hessy and Lieutenant Hooper of the same regiment died last night. All were my friends, and all thought that I could save them. General Sedgwick is dead, and General Getty and General Torbert are my patients.... Mrs. Lewis has just come; what a blessing her presence will be to the colonel, who bears the loss of his arm so bravely. Colonel Barney of the Sixth Vermont died yesterday, and Major Fryer of the Forty-third is dying. The major says, 'Doctor, can nothing be done?' Major Dudley lies in the room where I am writing, seriously wounded.... I have to-day sent sixty officers of the Sixth corps to Washington.... Oh! can I ever write anything beside these mournful details? Hundreds of ambulances are coming into town now, and it is almost midnight. So they come every night."

For a time it was almost impossible to obtain sufficient supplies either of food or dressings. Everything that could be spared from the field had been sent, but in the field they were still fighting terrible battles, and there was little to spare. Food was obtained in very limited quantities in town, and men went to the houses of citizens and demanded sheets, which were torn into bandages.

But large supplies were sent from Washington by the government in a few days, so that all necessary articles were furnished in abundance, with a profusion of lemons, oranges and canned fruit. The Sanitary Commission was also on hand with large supplies of delicacies, which were joyfully received by the wounded heroes, who not only relished the luxuries, but remembered that they were the gifts of friends at home, who had not forgotten the soldiers.

Many of the people of Fredericksburgh exhibited the most malignant spite against the "Yankee wounded;" but others, while they claimed no sympathy with our cause, showed themselves friends of humanity, and rendered us all the assistance in their power. No men, except negroes and white men unfit for military duty, were left in town, but the women were bitter rebels. Some of them made fierce opposition to the use of their houses as hospitals, but they were occupied notwithstanding their remonstrances.

At one fine mansion a surgeon rang the door bell, and in a moment saw the door open just enough to show the nose and a pair of small twinkling eyes of what was evidently a portly women. "What do you want?" snarled out the female defender of the premises. "We want to come and see if we can place a few wounded officers in this house." "You can't come in here!" shouted the woman slamming the door together. A few knocks induced her again to open the door two or three inches. "Madam, we must come in here; we shall do you no harm." "You can't come here; I am a lone widow." "But I assure you no harm is intended you." Again the door was closed, and again at the summons was opened. "Madam, it will be much better for you to allow us to enter than for me to direct these men to force the door; but we must enter." The woman now threw the door wide open and rushing into the yard with as much alacrity as her enormous proportions would admit, threw her arms out and whirled about like a reversed spinning top shouting for help. She was again assured that no harm was intended her, but that unless she chose to show us the house we should be obliged to go alone. Concluding that wisdom was the better part of valor, she proceeded to show us the rooms.

At another mansion, one of the finest in Fredericksburgh, a red-haired woman thrust her head out of the side window, in answer to the ring of the door bell:

"What do you want here?"

"We wish to place some wounded officers in this house."

"You can't bring any officers nor anybody else to this house. I'm all alone. I hope you have more honor than to come and disturb defenseless, unprotected women."

"Have you no husband?"

"Yes, thank God, he's a colonel in the confederate service."

"Well, if your husband was at home, where he ought to be, you would not be a defenseless woman."

The woman refused to unbolt the door, in spite of all persuasion, but while she railed at the "detestable Yankees," a soldier climbed in at a window in the rear, and unbolted the door. Her splendid rooms and fine mattresses furnished lodgings for twenty wounded officers. Day after day, the gloom of death hung over the town. Hundreds of our brave fellows were dying. Some of the finest officers of our army were daily yielding to the destroyer.

Among the severe losses to the Sixth corps were, Colonel Barney, of the Sixth Vermont, who had been shot through the head. He died on the 10th. He was one of the noblest of the sons of Vermont, a pattern of a brave soldier and Christian gentleman, respected for his ability as a commander, and loved for his social virtues; he was lamented by the whole corps. Major Fryer, of the Forty-third New York, one of the most promising young officers in the corps, died on the 12th, from wounds through the left arm and lungs. Captain Walker and Adjutant Hesse, of the Seventh Maine, and Lieutenants Hooper and Vining, of the same regiment, all died within a few hours of each other. Lieutenants Follensbee and Cook, of the Thirty-seventh Massachusetts, and Captain Kirkbride, of the One Hundred and Second Pennsylvania, were also among those who died. Major Dudley, of the Fifth Vermont, after suffering untold agony for many days, finally yielded, and died in the embraces of his youthful wife, who had arrived in Fredericksburgh just in time to be present during his last hours. The major had gone into the fight sick with a fever, but his determined bravery forbade him to remain quiet. Receiving a severe wound while thus depressed by disease, he gradually sunk, until his brave spirit took its departure.

These were a few of the sad, sad scenes, which brought sorrow to our hearts day after day, of the hospitals at Fredericksburgh.

Physicians and nurses from civil life came to our assistance in large numbers. Some were earnest men, wholly devoted to the object of relieving the distress which they saw on every side. Others had come for selfish purposes.

Physicians who had never performed an important surgical operation came armed with amputating cases, and seemed to think that there was but one thing to be done, to operate as they said.

Distressed fathers and brothers wandered about the town, in search of information regarding some son or friend who had been wounded, or perhaps, as they feared, killed.

The following is but an example of many sad incidents of this kind: H. A. Bowers, of the Seventy-seventh New York, a young man much beloved and respected in his regiment, was wounded through the chest on the 5th of May, and with the other wounded brought to Fredericksburgh. His father, who resided in Albany, received the intelligence that his son was dangerously wounded, and hastened to Fredericksburgh in search of him. He arrived at that immense hospital, and at once commenced his inquiries after his soldier boy. Failing to learn anything of him, except the assurance that he had been placed in the ambulances, he sought out the quartermaster of the Seventy-seventh, who was with the army train just out of town. The quartermaster readily lent his aid in the search, and both at once sought the surgeon of that regiment for information, but he, having the care of a multitude, could tell them nothing of the object of their search. Thousands of wounded men were here, filling the city, but, thus far, the important duties of relieving their immediate necessities had occupied the attention of surgeons and attendants to the exclusion of everything else; and no record or register had been made by which a particular wounded man might be found. Unless some friend or acquaintance could direct to his place, the search was often long. The nurses were instructed to afford the anxious father every assistance in finding his son. Two more long weary days were spent in the fruitless search, when word was sent to the father that his boy might be found in a certain church. Overjoyed at the thought that at last his search was to be crowned with success, he hastened to the place. Who shall attempt to tell the anguish of that father, when, on reaching the hospital, he found that his son had expired half an hour before!

At length, by the 26th of May, all the wounded men were sent by transports to Washington, and the hospitals broken up. The surgeons, escorted by a squadron of cavalry, crossed the country by way of Bowling Green, and, after a three days' journey, rejoined the army at Hanover.



CHAPTER XXVI.

COAL HARBOR.

At Hanover Court House—The Eighteenth corps joins the Army of the Potomac—The armies meet at Coal Harbor—Battle of June 1st—Battle of June 3d—Terrible exposure—The army strikes for Petersburgh—Charles City Court House—A centenarian—Review of the overland campaign.

Early on the morning of the 30th, the army was again moving, advancing with heavy skirmishing toward Hanover Court House. Remaining here some hours the column retraced its steps a short distance, the rebels meanwhile opening a severe artillery fire upon our hospital trains.

Toward evening the enemy attacked our left vigorously but were repulsed, and an attack was in turn made by our own troops which resulted in forcing the rebels from a part of their intrenchments. Except some changes of position and ascertaining that of the enemy, our army lay quietly confronting the rebels during the 31st, but on the 1st of June we were again on the road marching toward Coal Harbor. The march was a hard one. The day was sultry, and the dust, ankle deep, raised in clouds by the column, was almost suffocating. It filled the air and hung upon the leaves of the trees like snow. Seldom had our men experienced so severe a march. As we neared Coal Harbor our Sixth corps in advance, we fell in with the column of General Smith's command, the Eighteenth and Tenth corps. It was a relief to the old soldiers of the Army of the Potomac to see these full regiments, and they felt that with such large reinforcements our success must now be insured. It was also a source of much gratification to the old Second division to meet again our friends Generals Smith and Brooks, whose names were so intimately connected with the division, and who still held a large place in the affections of the men.

These two corps were a part of General Butler's command, which had advanced up the Peninsula as far as Bermuda Hundreds, but were unable to make further progress. General Grant had, therefore, directed General Butler to send them forward by way of transports to White House Landing, to join the Army of the Potomac. They reached us tired and almost discouraged by their unusual march of nearly sixteen miles, their trains and baggage being left behind.

In the afternoon we had fallen in with ambulances returning with wounded cavalrymen, and learned from them that Sheridan had engaged the rebel cavalry at Coal Harbor early in the morning, and that he was now fighting both infantry and cavalry. Toward that point the troops pushed on rapidly, reaching the cavalry line at about four o'clock. The men halted a few moments, and then were ordered to fall in and advance against the enemy. Skirmishers, as usual, had advanced and prepared the way for the lines of infantry and the artillery. The shots of the skirmishers had become more and more frequent, till the sharp rattle of musketry told of the actual presence of the enemy. The artillery of the Sixth corps was at once run out, and a brisk fire opened upon the rebels, who replied with their guns, but with less vigor than that exhibited by our own. The commands of Wright and Smith were at once formed in line of battle, our Sixth corps on the left in line, Rickett's Third division holding the right of the line, Russell's the center, and Neill's Second division the extreme left of the whole line. On our right was Smith's command in single line.

In front of our line was an open space two-thirds of a mile in width, beyond which was a strip of pine woods. In these woods the enemy had intrenched, and was holding the position in strong force. Lee, again anticipating the design of Grant, had sent Longstreet's corps and other troops to occupy Coal Harbor, and now, with their rear resting upon the Chickahominy, at this point a shallow and easily forded stream, the rebels occupied a strong position between our advance and Richmond.

The order for the charge was given, and these two commands, weary and exhausted, the veterans of the Sixth corps from many days and nights of most severe labor, and both corps by the tedious march of the day, dashed impetuously across the ploughed field with shouts and cheers, making for the rebel works.

The storm of battle seemed suddenly to have broken without the usual warning. It was less than an hour since the Union troops had arrived on the field, and already a most bloody struggle was in progress. Volleys rang out upon the evening air, crashing louder and still louder. The First and Third divisions of the Sixth corps, in heavy columns, rushed across the field, cleared the abattis, and seized the rebel works, while the Second division, on the left, discovering a strong force of the enemy planting a battery on our flank, engaged them and forced them back. Smith's command, also, by a desperate charge, seized nearly the whole line in the front, that on the extreme right, in front of Brooks' command, alone remaining in the hands of the rebels. The whole line thundered with the incessant volleys of musketry, and the shot and shell of the artillery shrieked and howled like spirits of evil. The sun was sinking, red, in the west, and the clouds of dust and smoke almost obscured the terrible scene. Hundreds of our brave fellows were falling on every side, and stretcher bearers were actively engaged in removing the wounded from the field. The First division, after a stubborn resistance of a few minutes, was forced to give up the line of works it had captured and fall back; only the Third division held its ground. The others had advanced as far, but the ground was unfavorable, and in spite of most determined efforts to hold the line, they were forced to swing back.

This was the first experience of Smith's command in a great battle, and well did his men earn the confidence of the veterans who fought by their side. Their courage and impetuosity were the subjects of admiration of the boys of the old Sixth corps, who declared that Baldy Smith could make any troops fight like veterans.

The gallantry shown by our Third division in taking and holding the enemy's works, was acknowledged with true soldierly generosity by the other divisions of our corps, who thus far had not regarded the new division as their peer.

As darkness came on, the conflict still raged, and sheets of flame rolled from one end of the line to the other as the discomfited rebels strove desperately to regain their lost ground. But as the sound of battle died away at nine o'clock, the advantages gained by us were still held, and our men set to work to strengthen the works they had captured from the enemy and to throw up new ones. Again and again the rebels rushed against the Union line hoping to regain their lost ground, but without success. The battle, although of brief duration, had been a most sanguinary one. The loss to the Sixth corps was about two hundred killed and nine hundred and sixty wounded, while the Eighteenth corps lost one hundred and twenty-five killed and six hundred and fifty wounded.

Meanwhile the Second, Fifth and Ninth corps were holding the position occupied by them the day before, and against these corps most desperate assaults were repeatedly made by the enemy, but they were as often repulsed with great slaughter.