The movement at Coal Harbor, while it had not succeeded in forcing the enemy across the Chickahominy, had secured our communications with White House Landing, which now became, after two years, for the second time, the base of supplies for the Army of the Potomac. General Grant now determined to renew the attempt to dislodge the rebels on the following day.

Accordingly, after the fashion of all the movements of the army, the Second corps, which now occupied the extreme right of the line, withdrew during the night, and falling behind the other corps, marched rapidly to the left and took position in that flank on the road leading from Dispatch Station to Coal Harbor. The corps did not secure this position without considerable fighting, and it was not in condition to take part in the expected advance until the afternoon. Then a most violent thunder shower set in, putting a stop to all movements for the remainder of the day.

The men of the Sixth and Eighteenth corps, tired and worn out from marching, fighting, and the hard night's work in throwing up intrenchments, had spent the early part of the day in quietly watching the enemy, or lounging behind the breastworks, glad of an opportunity for rest.

Orders were now given for a simultaneous attack along the whole line, to take place at half-past four on the morning of the 3d. Our line of battle extended from Coal Harbor to Tolopotamy creek, in the following order, from left to right: Second, Sixth, Eighteenth, Fifth, and Ninth. This line was nearly parallel with the Chickahominy, and from a mile and a half to two miles north of it.

The rebels had not left the day unimproved, in concentrating their troops and strengthening their works. They now held three lines of breastworks, all of great strength; the first occupied by their skirmish lines, the others by strong lines of battle. Between the two armies the ground was low and swampy, while the positions occupied by both were sandy plains.

At half-past six on the morning of the 3d, our army was astir; and the skirmishers, leaving the cover of the rifle pits, were advancing. Presently they fell in with the skirmishers of the enemy, and the sharp cracking of rifles betokened the storm of battle.

As soon as the skirmishers were engaged, our artillery opened upon the rebel works, and the conflict now commenced in earnest. Amid the deafening volleys of musketry, the thunders of the artillery, and the wild yells of battle, our brave fellows pressed rapidly across the space between the hostile lines of works, and the whole Union force was thrown against the rebel breastworks almost simultaneously. But the works were too strong, the abattis too troublesome, and the rebel forces too numerous. Their line could not be taken.

The vigorous and gallant assault made by the Sixth corps, resulted in carrying the first line, where the rebel skirmishers had been posted, and our troops got within two hundred and fifty yards of the main works, but Martindale's division of Smith's corps, which advanced with the Sixth corps, and on our right, found the task before it too great; the troops of that division became disarranged and were repulsed. Although General Smith, who was always up to the front, made several attempts to relieve Martindale's division, it failed to take the rifle pits.

The right flank of the Sixth corps, thus exposed, the whole corps was forced to fall back.

Thus this grand assault, in which General Grant hoped to force his enemy across the Chickahominy, failed with immense loss to us and comparatively little to the confederate army, which as usual was defended by earthworks, while our men advancing to the charge were unprotected. But our brave fellows were to have their revenge.

The battle was over, and again the occupants of the opposing lines of defenses watched each other, the quiet being only disturbed by the occasional shots of sharpshooters. Darkness closed over the plains of Coal Harbor, and even the sharpshooters desisted from their work. The stars shed a mild light upon the two armies which had so lately been engaged in fierce conflict, each now securely resting behind its line of earthworks, and the plain which lay between them, which the hurricane of battle had so lately swept, was as still as though the noise of war had never been heard there.

Suddenly, at eight o'clock, the rebels in front of our Sixth corps and of the Second corps, leaped over their works and rushed with a yell toward our lines. At the same time their artillery opened upon us. The course of their shells was marked by long curves of fire upon the dark sky, while the flashes of the guns and bursting missiles made a sublime display of pyrotechnics.

On came the charging column, against the left of the Sixth and the right of the Second corps; but nothing pleased our brave boys more than to see their enemies come out from the cover of their works to fight.

It had, during all these long days of battles, been ours to charge well defended earthworks almost invariably; and whenever the rebels chose to assume the offensive, our men were glad to show them the difference between being the assailants and the assailed.

Now the rebels came on with determination, but their attack was met by volley after volley of musketry aimed for effect; and our well directed fire of artillery made great gaps in the advancing lines. The attack was nobly repulsed, and many grey-coated soldiers who advanced to the charge, were left by their retreating comrades, dead between the two lines, while others were ordered in as prisoners. The rebels returned to their place, and again all was still. From this time we had no more battles at Coal Harbor, yet we daily lost many men by the shots of the sharpshooters who were perched in trees, and who kept up a fire at every moving thing which showed itself within our lines.

Never before had our army been in a position where there was such constant danger as at Coal Harbor. Men in the front line dared not leave the cover of the breastworks except in the darkness of night, and even then the movement of a company to the rear might bring on a storm of shells. High breastworks were thrown up at all angles with the main line, and deep trenches were dug, in which the men might pass to and from the front without being observed. Even with all these extraordinary precautions, no man was safe in venturing to go to the rear by daylight. If a soldier collected the canteens of his companions and started to the rear for water, he was obliged to crawl along the trenches with the utmost secrecy, and even then he was liable to be shot. Not a day passed, even when there was no battle, in which scores of men were not killed or brought to the hospitals with severe wounds.

The whole plain occupied by our army was dug over. Far to the rear the men had intrenched themselves. General officers had their tents erected in deep excavations surrounded by embankments of earth, and special duty men had each prepared for themselves burrows in the ground, many of which were creditable specimens of engineering. One was reminded, in riding over the plain, of the colonies of prairie dogs with their burrows and mounds. Although we had but two days' actual fighting at Coal Harbor, our losses were more than thirteen thousand men, while the rebels suffered comparatively small losses.

Thus the army lay upon the burning sands of that arid plain, the greater part of the line without the friendly shelter of a tree, weary, yet not discouraged; grimy and dirty, and choked with dust, yet uttering no words of complaint, for twelve days.

Troops commenced moving toward the rear on the morning of the 11th of July, and it became known that we were to make no more attempts to force the formidable position. General Grant had ordered another flank movement, this time to the James river. Preparations for withdrawing went on actively on the 10th and 11th; all the wounded were sent to the White House, and the long trains of forage, ammunition and commissary supplies which had been allowed to come far toward the front, began to pass to the rear. On the 12th, Smith's corps was ordered to the White House, thence to embark to City Point, while the remainder of the army was to cross the Chickahominy far to the right of the rebel position, and march to the James river.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the long hospital train of the Sixth corps moved out toward the left a few miles and halted for the corps, which withdrew from the works after dark, and marched with great rapidity toward the left. The other corps also withdrew from their positions, and the whole army moved off down the Chickahominy, the Second corps in advance. The march was kept up all night, a short halt only being allowed in the morning near Dispatch Station. Then the column pressed on again, the men almost suffocated with the dust, which hung over the column like a huge cloud; no halt was made at noon, and the men, deprived of their coffee, choked with dust, and burned with heat, marched wearily toward night. The sun was sinking in the west, tinging the clouds with purple, and crowning the distant hills with gold, when we crossed the historic Chickahominy. Two years before we had crossed the same stream not far from this very spot. Through how many vicissitudes of army life had we passed since that time. The stream was not wide, and its banks were well defined where we crossed. Indeed, at this point, there was nothing in the appearance of the stream that would convey any idea of the difficulties which it had once presented to the Union army. The corps bivouacked on high grounds a mile from the river, glad to rest from the toiling march.

We were early astir on the morning of the 14th; taking our line of march through a delightful section of country where the comfortable farm houses and fine residences presented a striking contrast with the desolations to which we had become accustomed. As we began to descend from the high lands toward the plain, on which stands the little cluster of houses called, in southern fashion, Charles City, we beheld, in the distance, the James river, lying in all its loveliness, spreading widely between its banks. A magnificent prospect opened before us. The river in the distance bordered by green fields, one undulating slope four or five miles wide, and twice as long, presenting a scene of surpassing beauty. There were large fields of grain already yellow and nearly ripe for the harvest, green meadows lay in the beautiful valleys, the gentle breeze dallied with the tassels of the long rows of corn, which gave rich promise of an abundant harvest; fine groves upon the hillside, in the valleys and on the plain, gave a charming diversity to the scene, and the old mansions, embosomed in vines and trees, and surrounded by colonies of outhouses, reminded us of the ease and comfort which had reigned here before the ravages of war had desolated Virginia. To the right was Charles City, almost hidden by trees, a little town, in prosperous days, the home of a few hundred people, now almost deserted.

In the vicinity of Charles City we halted a little before noon. The Second corps, which was in the advance, had already reached the James at Wilcox's Landing, and was preparing to cross. The men of our corps were delighted with the opportunity of once more spreading their tents over clean grassy turf, and each quickly pitched his shelter tent preparatory to a refreshing rest.

Within two miles of our camp was the residence of the late ex-president, John Tyler, which was visited by many of our officers. It was a charming spot, with everything about it to please the eye of a lover of the beautiful. But except the grounds immediately surrounding the house, everything was in the wildness of nature.

The house was stripped of almost everything. The cabinet was carried off. The large library had lost many of its choicest volumes, while the remainder, with heaps of letters, lay thrown in wild confusion about the floor. The pile of sheet music which had been left on the piano by the family, had been culled over and nearly all taken away. In fact such a sad scene of destruction was rare, even in the track of a great army.

On the morning of the 15th, the corps moved to the river side, where it remained while other troops were crossing by ferry and on an immensely long pontoon bridge. The river was full of shipping, the forests of masts making strange contrasts with the native forests on the river banks.

Near the crossing was a superb old mansion, the residence of a rebel general, surrounded by its little village of negro cabins. Here many officers of the corps resorted, to spend the time in walking among the grand old trees, or to stroll through the garden, admiring the elegant and rare exotics which adorned the grounds. Here was the magnolia grandiflora in full bloom, its immense cup-like flowers filling the whole place with delightful fragrance, and the American agave, also loaded with a profusion of elegant flowers; roses of the most rare and superb varieties, jasmines, honeysuckles, clematis, spice woods, and a great variety of other choice plants, were also in lavish abundance. There were locust trees of enormous size, and everything that was inanimate filled us with surprise and delight. But, within the mansion, we were met with the accustomed bitterness and want of civility. Among the slaves on the premises was a white-haired negro, who was one hundred and eight years old. His wife, who lived upon a neighboring plantation, was one hundred and four years of age. When asked his age by the boys, he was accustomed to answer, "Well, massa, I'se going on two hundred now." The old fellow manifested no sympathy for the cause of his master, and even he sighed for freedom. When asked of what value freedom could be to him now, he answered, impatiently, "Well, massa, isn't a hundred and eight years long enough to be a slave?"

The army, which had thus fought its way at fearful cost from the Rapidan to the James, was now to change its base, and threaten the rebel capital from the south. Petersburgh was now the objective point, and this was regarded as the door to Richmond.

Our army had, during the period of a little more than a month, fought the most extraordinary series of battles, and executed some of the most remarkable movements on record. Never was heroic valor exhibited on a grander scale than had been manifested by the Army of the Potomac throughout this long struggle, in which every man's life seemed doomed. The stubborn perseverance of the general was equaled by the persistent determination of his soldiers. Day after day they had been called upon to assault earthworks of formidable character, defended by veteran troops; and it was usually the case that they had seen, as the only fruits of their daring, almost reckless, charges, the ground in front of the hostile intrenchments strewed with the lifeless bodies of their comrades, while the enemy still held the coveted line of works.

The battle of the Wilderness was a strange, deadly struggle, which no man could see. A battle in which both armies were hidden in thickets and forests, impenetrable to vision, each making gigantic efforts for the overthrow and destruction of the other. It had resulted in no decisive advantage to either party. Lee was as ready to meet us at Spottsylvania as he had been in the Wilderness, and Grant was determined in his attack along the Ny, as though he had met with no repulse on Wilderness Run. The soldiers, too, of each army were as ready at Spottsylvania to test their relative valor as they had been in the Wilderness.

At Spottsylvania we had lost thousands of our best men, and hundreds of our ablest officers in futile attempts to drive our enemy from impregnable positions; yet, notwithstanding all our losses, and our hitherto unsuccessful assaults, our men rushed against the strong defenses at Coal Harbor with as much resolution and fortitude as though they had met with no reverses.

From the Rapidan to the Chickahominy the advance had been almost a continuous battle, in which our army fought at a disadvantage. The men had for more than a month engaged the enemy in mortal combat by day and made fatiguing marches by night only to find themselves again face to face with the enemy in the morning. Sixty thousand of our comrades were either killed, wounded or missing. Of these more than thirteen thousand had been lost at Coal Harbor, about thirty-two thousand in the Wilderness, and nearly fifteen thousand at Spottsylvania and on the North Anna.

It is true that our enemy had suffered great losses, yet not half as many rebels as Union men had fallen. At Coal Harbor the disproportion was much greater than elsewhere. There the rebel loss had not been one-tenth as great as our own. Notwithstanding our frequent repulses, and despite the fact that our road was continually blocked by an army behind powerful defenses, our march had been straight on toward the goal of our ambition, the rebel capital.

From the crossing of the Rapidan to the halt at Coal Harbor, in all our battles and all our flank movements, we had not swerved from the direct line to Richmond; and now, with unimpaired vigor and still relentless determination, the Army of the Potomac, and the imperturbable leader of the Union armies, were ready to undertake the capture of Richmond, by way of Petersburgh, fully assured that their illustrious valor and never failing courage must sooner or later meet with their award.



CHAPTER XXVII.

PETERSBURGH.

The march to Petersburgh—Smith's successes—The battle of June 18th—The Sixth and Second corps sent to the left—Rebels penetrate the line—Progress of the siege—Sixth corps proceeds to Reams' Station—Kautz's and Wilson's raids.

At sunset on the 16th, the Sixth corps gathered upon the banks of the James river, and while the First and Third divisions embarked on steamers for City Point, the Second division crossed on the pontoon bridge. The division marched all night toward Petersburgh, from which direction we had heard cannonading all day. The column moved rapidly, leaving scores of stragglers, who quietly rolled themselves in their blankets and lay down behind the hedges to sleep till morning. The following day was sultry, and the dust was very annoying. The men were weary from want of sleep, and the march was a severe one; but at sunset the division arrived at our lines before Petersburgh. Smith's corps had preceded us, and by assaulting the rebel position on the evening of the 16th, had carried the lines northeast of the town for a distance of over two and a half miles, capturing fifteen pieces of artillery and three hundred prisoners. General Smith was then reinforced by Hancock's corps, which had just arrived by land, but no further advance was made that night. This neglect to take advantage of the absence of any large force of rebels in the works about Petersburgh was severely censured by General Grant, who could not understand why General Smith, now reinforced by a large corps, had not at once taken possession of the town. The day that the Second division, Sixth corps, arrived in front of Petersburgh, the two divisions of that corps which had taken transports up the river, were ordered to reinforce General Butler at Bermuda Hundreds, where his command had gained some advantages, which were, however, lost before night. All the corps having got up, attacks upon the rebel positions were renewed on the 17th and 18th. The attack on the 17th was made by Smith's command, and resulted in the loss of a few men, when the lines were withdrawn.

Our Second division now relieved Brooks' division of the Eighteenth corps on the front line, the Seventy-seventh taking possession of a powerful redoubt, the other regiments taking their places in close proximity. The Vermont brigade was placed in rifle pits, as was also the First brigade. In order to secure unity of action, General Neill, commanding the division, was directed to receive orders from General Martindale of the Eighteenth corps.

Standing in the redoubt occupied by the Seventy-seventh, which was upon a high bluff, and commanded a fine prospect of the surrounding country, we could trace the line of defenses which had already been captured, and those yet in the hands of the enemy. The defenses of Petersburgh consisted of a line of strong earthworks, in the form of a semicircle. Immense redoubts, like the one we now occupied, were placed at frequent intervals, upon commanding positions, and these were connected by a line of rifle pits and high breastworks. At all advantageous points, also, were well constructed rifle pits, in front (now in rear) of the main works. Smith's corps had captured eleven of these forts and redoubts in the first assault, and they were now occupied by our forces, and the strong works which were intended for the defense of the town now bristled with cannon pointing toward it.

The line of powerful forts and breastworks commenced about two and a half miles below Petersburgh, on the Appomattox, and, circling the city, terminated two or three miles above.

Before us stretched the valley of the Appomattox in all its beauty, the level plain between us and the river clothed in the verdure of summer, the green fields of corn yet untrodden by the troops of either side. Below the heights, stretching far to the right and left, was the line of rifle pits now occupied by our men, and beyond these could be traced the outlines of the new works which the rebels were throwing up. Still beyond all these, the spires of Petersburgh towered grandly, and by the help of a glass the streets and houses were distinctly visible.

On the 18th, another advance was made by the divisions of Smith's corps, a part of the Second corps, and our own Second division. Smith's troops advanced spiritedly across the plain, facing a withering fire of grape and canister, but were unable to come up to the rebel works.

They were ordered to lie down, and at once every man commenced to throw up a little mound of earth in front of him, using his cup or plate, or even his hands or jack-knife, in place of a spade.

Under this destructive fire the troops were forced to remain for some time, but they at length retired, having lost several hundred of their number. Neill's division was on the left of Smith's troops, and did not advance as far. Our losses were therefore slight.

Owing to some unfortunate misunderstanding, the surgeons of the Eighteenth corps were ordered to the right of the line to establish field hospitals; consequently, when the wounded of that corps began to come in, there were none of their surgeons at hand. The surgeons of our own division, however, quickly proceeded to establish a hospital for them, in which they were all received and cared for, their wounds dressed, the shattered limbs removed, and all their wants attended to. The medical officers of the Eighteenth corps expressed their warmest gratitude for this act of kindness on the part of the Sixth corps surgeons, this being the second time that we had found an opportunity of assisting them in an emergency.

Our lines were daily drawn more closely around Petersburgh, but no other general action was brought on for some time. There was constant firing of artillery from both sides, and now and then the rattle of musketry would pass along the lines.

On the 22d, Colonel Bidwell's brigade occupied the front line of rifle pits. The sun was shining brightly, and our men, unprotected by shelter, were striving to pass the time with as little discomfort as possible. A group of men of the Seventy-seventh were behind the breastwork, stretched out upon the sand, resting upon their elbows and amusing each other with jokes, when a shell came shrieking into their midst. Its explosion threw them in every direction. One went high in the air and fell twenty feet from the spot where he was lying when the shell exploded. Strange to tell, not a man was killed, yet three had each a leg crushed to jelly, and two others were seriously wounded. The three whose legs were crushed were Sergeant James Barnes, James Lawrence, and James Allen, all of company A. The poor fellows were taken to the field hospital completely prostrated from the shock, cold sweat stood upon their pallid brows, and life seemed but to flicker before going out. The surgeons were making haste to load the wounded and sick into ambulances to send to City Point, for we were ordered to march at a moment's notice. "You can do nothing for those men," said the wide awake, enterprising Doctor Hall, who was superintending the loading of the ambulances, as he saw the surgeon who had charge of the operations prepare to remove the mangled members. "Better put them into ambulances and let them have a chance for their lives! There is no time now to wait for operations." "How long will it take you to load your ambulances, doctor?" "Twenty minutes, at least." "Then I will have the men ready for you." The surgeon gave to each of the unfortunate ones a glass of brandy, then administered his chloroform, and in less than thirty minutes had amputated the limbs, dressed the stumps, and placed the men in ambulances. They were taken at once to City Point, where they were placed together. Their cases excited great interest among the attendants in the hospital and the visitors, for each had lost a leg just above the knee, the name of each was James, they were all from one company, all wounded by a single shell, and all as cheerful as were ever wounded men. They were afterward removed to Washington and again placed side by side, and here, also, they were subjects of great interest to visitors. The writer has frequently heard the case of the three Jameses related by persons in different States, who never mistrusted that they were men of his own regiment. The boys are each well now, each walks with his artificial limb, and each is a worthy member of society.

General Grant, finding that his expectation of taking Petersburgh by surprise had failed, prepared for a systematic investment of the town. Accordingly, the Sixth and Second corps were directed to proceed to the left of the present line, so as to envelop the town, and also with the view of striking the Weldon railroad, and thus cutting off an important source of supplies for the rebel army.

On the 21st of May, the two corps marching in the rear of the rest of the army went into position on the left flank, the Second corps on the west of the Jerusalem plank road, and the Sixth to the left and rear of that corps, its line nearly at right angles with that of the Second corps. The cavalry divisions of Wilson and Kautz were, at the same time, ordered to proceed still farther to the left, and, cutting the Weldon road, continue the march across the country, until they should strike the Southside railroad, which they were directed to destroy.

On the morning of the 22d, General Birney, who, during the temporary absence of General Hancock, was in command of the Second corps, was directed to move his corps forward, so as to press upon the left flank of the enemy. This he proceeded to do, without giving notice of his intention to General Wright. The result of the movement was to leave a wide gap between the Second and Sixth corps.

To the great surprise of the Third division of our corps, which was just getting into position, the rebels advanced in strong force upon the flank and rear. A sharp skirmish occurred, in which that division and a part of the Second division lost some prisoners; but the principal loss fell upon the Second corps, for that corps, having thrown its left far in advance, was greatly exposed. The principal attack fell upon Barlow's division, which occupied the left. That division was driven in confusion upon the other divisions of the corps. The whole corps was forced back, but after some spirited fighting the rebels were forced back, carrying with them a battery belonging to the Second corps, and more than two thousand prisoners. From our own corps they had captured about six hundred men and a stand of colors.

The responsibility for this unfortunate surprise rests with the commander of the Second corps; for General Wright, being entirely ignorant of any design to advance that corps, had, of course, made no disposition to keep the line intact. The men of the Third division did all that men could do under the circumstances, and are entitled to much credit for the repulse which they gave the enemy.

From that day, except that at times the roar of artillery shook the earth for miles about, we remained quiet until the 29th of June. The light sandy soil soon became reduced to powder, and the continual passing of mules and army wagons raised huge clouds of dust, which completely enveloped the army. At sunset this cloud would settle down and become so dense that one could not see objects twenty yards from him. The heat was almost intolerable, yet the health of the men was better than usual for the summer months.

The surgeons had their hospitals neatly fitted up, and nurses and attendants took great pride in adorning the hospital tents with the boughs of the magnolia and other beautiful shrubs and flowers. The government and the agents of the Sanitary Commission supplied us liberally with lemons and vegetables, so, notwithstanding the intense heat, and the constant watchfulness of the men behind the earthworks, there was comparatively little illness.

In the afternoon of the 29th of June orders came for the Sixth corps to march at once to Reams' Station, far to the left, where the cavalry of Kautz and Wilson, which had been on an extensive raid, was expected to arrive. At four o'clock we left camp, marched all the remainder of the day and all night. We found ourselves in the morning at Reams' Station, on the Weldon Railroad. The men at once commenced tearing up the track and burning the ties. Thus they toiled all the morning, but no cavalry made its appearance. Late in the day the corps retraced their steps, and arrived that night within two and a half miles of the position we had left the day before. We made our bivouac on the Jerusalem plank road, and in the morning rejoined the main army before Petersburgh and resumed our old position.

The story of the great raid of Kautz and Wilson, which we now learned in detail, was one of thrilling interest, full of wild adventure, untold hardship and great peril. The two divisions had penetrated far to the rear of Lee's army, had destroyed miles of the Weldon railroad, and then, reaching the Southside road, the great artery for the supply of the rebel army, had torn up the track and burned the ties for dozens of miles. In their return they had fallen in with the cavalry of the enemy, and, when near Reams' Station, had come upon a strong force of cavalry and infantry. An engagement ensued, which resulted in the Union cavalry being driven, and hundreds from the immense throng of colored refugees, which was following the cavalry towards the Union lines, were ridden down by the rebel cavalry and killed. The cavalry at length succeeded in reaching our lines by making a circuit farther south, and many of the negroes also succeeded in escaping from rebeldom.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

SIXTH CORPS TRANSFERRED TO WASHINGTON—BATTLE OF FORT STEVENS.

The Shenandoah Valley—Hunter's advance to Lynchburgh—The retreat—Rebels advance into Maryland—Battle of Monocacy—Sixth corps goes to Washington—Battle of Fort Stevens.

The Shenandoah Valley, which had been the scene of such varied fortunes to our army during the war, again became a field of great interest.

Simultaneous with the opening of the spring campaign by the army of the Potomac, General Sigel, who then commanded in the valley, commenced to move his army. On the 15th of May he met the enemy at New Market, and was defeated. He withdrew his army to Harper's Ferry, where, by order of General Grant, who was dissatisfied with his management, he was relieved of his command by General Hunter.

General Hunter at once resumed offensive operations, moved up the valley and encountered the enemy at Piedmont and routed him, capturing fifteen hundred prisoners, three pieces of artillery and three thousand stand of small arms. He then pursued the routed army to Lynchburgh, which place he invested. To meet this movement of Hunter, Lee had sent General Early with his corps to the assistance of the rebel garrison. This force arrived just before the Union army came up. General Hunter, finding that he was confronted by a large force, his ammunition being nearly exhausted, the difficulties of transporting over so long a march sufficient ordnance stores being very great, he determined to withdraw without risking a battle. His want of ammunition forced him to make his retreat by that route which would afford most natural obstacles to pursuit and attack of the enemy. Accordingly, instead of retiring directly down the Shenandoah, he drew his forces off through the Kanawha Valley, leaving the Shenandoah open to the rebel army. The march of Hunter's men through the Kanawha, harassed by the enemy and destitute of food, was one of great severity. The rebels finding the Shenandoah open to them, at once pushed northward with a view of ravaging Maryland and Pennsylvania, and, if possible, entering Washington.

Owing to the great difficulties encountered by General Hunter's army, in reaching Harper's Ferry in time to oppose Early, it became necessary to send other troops to meet the invading force. Accordingly, about the 1st of July, the Third division of our Sixth corps, under command of General Ricketts, was sent to Baltimore, and from thence marched toward Frederick, Maryland, where, on the banks of the Monocacy near the railroad bridge, the enemy was encountered. The Union forces consisted of the division from the Sixth corps, and a few thousand green troops collected about Baltimore, all under command of General Wallace. The force of Early greatly outnumbered those of the Union general, and after a hard fought battle our men were driven back. Although General Wallace had met with defeat, he had succeeded in arresting the progress of the invasion for a time, and enabled the remainder of our corps and a division of the Nineteenth corps to reach Washington in advance of the rebels.

Such was the state of affairs in Maryland, when, on the evening of the 9th July, the First and Second divisions of the Sixth corps were ordered to march to City Point at once. The order came at nine o'clock, and without delay the troops were in motion. We had become too much accustomed to sudden movements, to require long preparations for breaking up camp. The march of fourteen miles to City Point made during the night, was far more tolerable than it could have been by day. For although the roads were composed of dry beds of dust, in which the men sank almost ankle deep at every step, and the cloud which rose as the column moved along filled their throats and eyes and nostrils, yet they were not forced to endure the misery of a long march under a burning sun, such as for many days past had scorched these sandy plains.

It was daylight when the Sixth corps reached the James river at City Point, and the process of embarking commenced at once. Before noon the two divisions, with the horses and baggage, were on board transports, which were in readiness when we arrived. The staff of Bidwell's brigade, with the Seventy-seventh and part of the Forty-ninth New York, with the brigade band, where on board the steamer Escort. We had also on board a hundred horses.

Great satisfaction was felt by all at the prospect of leaving the region whose natural desolation was heightened by the devastation of war, and going to a country of plenty, with which so many pleasant remembrances were associated. Each man breathed more freely as the steamer swung out upon the river, and our brigade band sounded a good-bye to the scenes of our recent labors and privations.

Our fleet was soon steaming down the river, passing scenes of interest, many of which were intimately connected with the memories of other campaigns. There was Harrison's Landing, the camping ground of two years ago, the last one on the Peninsula, where our Union army crowded together on the banks of the James, sweltering beneath the oppressive heat of a southern sun; Fort Powhattan, where we had crossed the river on pontoons a month ago; the iron-clad Atlanta, once a rebel ram, now doing service in the Union cause; the ancient settlement of Jamestown; the three-turreted monitor Roanoke; Sewell's Point; Hampton, the scene of our earliest Peninsula experience; the bay at Newport News, made famous by the conflict of the Monitor and Merrimac, the masts of the Cumberland still towering above the waters of the bay as monuments of the wonderful contest; the old haunts of the Teaser, which had so unceremoniously introduced herself to our division; and, as evening came on, we passed Fortress Monroe, where the many lights of the fleet gave the harbor the appearance of a city in the waves.

The wind was blowing freshly when we rounded Old Point Comfort, and our little steamer ploughed the white caps bravely. We made good time, and found ourselves the next morning steaming up the Potomac. Aquia creek was passed, recalling to mind the encampment at White Oak Church; Mount Vernon claimed its tribute of thought, and at two o'clock we touched the wharf at the foot of Sixth street, Washington. The rest of the two divisions had already reached the wharves, and there, too, were some immense sea steamers, crowded with troops of the Nineteenth corps, fortunately just arrived from New Orleans.

The process of disembarking occupied but little time. President Lincoln stood upon the wharf chatting familiarly with the veterans, and now and then, as if in compliment to them, biting at a piece of hard tack which he held in his hand.

The column was formed and we marched up Seventh street, past the Smithsonian Institute, the Patent Office and the Post Office, meeting on our way many old friends, and hearing the people who crowded upon the sidewalks exclaiming, "It is the old Sixth corps!" "Those are the men who took Marye's Heights!" "The danger is over now!" We had never before realized the hold which the corps had upon the affection of the people. Washington, an hour before was in a panic; now as the people saw the veterans wearing the badge of the Greek cross marching through their streets, the excitement subsided and confidence prevailed.

Thus we made our way to the north of the city, the sound of cannonading in our front stimulating and hastening the steps of the men. Families, with a few of their choicest articles of household furniture loaded into wagons, were hastening to the city, reporting that their houses were burned, or that they had made their escape leaving the greater part of their goods to the mercy of the rebels.

We reached a fine grove in rear of Fort De Russey and made our bivouac for the night.

Now we learned the true position of affairs. Early, having defeated the small force under General Wallace, pushed on toward Washington, carrying destruction in the path of his army. His cavalry reached Rockville, a little town twelve miles north of Washington, on the 10th, detachments having destroyed portions of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, seized trains of cars, in one of which was General Franklin, formerly commander of the Sixth corps, who was made a prisoner, but who managed to escape, and now, as we reached Washington, his advance was knocking at the defenses of that city. The forts were manned by a small force of heavy artillery, hundred days' men, and detachments of the Invalid corps; and, as we reached the rear of the defenses, regiments composed of clerks and employees of the quartermaster's department, with convalescents from the hospitals, marched past us to take their places on the front. These hasty levies were placed in the forts for the night, to be replaced by veteran troops in the morning.

July 12th came bright and glorious. The First brigade of our Second division, and our sharpshooters, were on picket in front of Fort Stevens; the Second and Third brigades still enjoying the delightful shade of the groves in rear of Fort De Russey. From the parapets of Fort Stevens could be seen the lines of rebel skirmishers, from whose rifles the white puffs of smoke rose as they discharged their pieces at our pickets. The valley beyond the fort presented a scene of surpassing loveliness, with its rich green meadows, its fields of waving corn, its orchards and its groves. To the right was Fort Slocum, and on the left Fort De Russey.

The residence of Hon. Montgomery Blair was within the line occupied by the confederates, and we heard that the fine mansion had been the scene of plunder and destruction, in revenge, as the rebels declared, for havoc wrought by our troops in Virginia.

The principal force of the enemy seemed to be in front of Fort Stevens, and here it was determined to give them battle. The barracks just in rear of the fort were converted into a hospital for our Second division, and all preparations were made for receiving our wounded men.

Four o'clock came, but, except that the rebel skirmishers were sending their bullets whizzing over the fort, all was quiet. President Lincoln and his wife drove up to the barracks, unattended, except by their coachman, the superbly mounted squadron of cavalry, whose duty it was to attend upon his excellency, being left far behind. The carriage stopped at the door of the hospital, and the President and his affable lady entered into familiar conversation with the surgeon in charge, praising the deeds of the old Sixth corps, complimenting the appearance of its veterans, and declaring that they, as well as the people of the country, appreciated the achievements of the wearers of the Greek cross.

Thus, for nearly an hour, they chatted of various things, when General Wright and his staff arrived on the ground, accompanied by several ladies and gentlemen from the city.

All now repaired to the fort, and presently the portly form of Colonel Bidwell, followed by his Third brigade, was seen approaching. The brave colonel and his brave brigade marched past the fort into the valley beyond, the President, the members of his cabinet and the ladies praising the hardy, soldierly bearing of the men as they passed. They formed in two lines of battle, in rear of the skirmish line of the first brigade, the Seventy-seventh on the right of the line, then the Seventh Maine, and then the Forty-ninth. The Forty-third New York, Sixty-first Pennsylvania, and One Hundred and Twenty-second New York forming the second line. The advance line was in charge of Colonel French.

According to preconcerted arrangements, Colonel Bidwell was to signify to General Wright, who remained in the fort, his readiness for the attack by a signal from the new flag of the Seventy-seventh, which had not yet been baptized in battle; then the great guns in the fort were to open a storm of shells upon the rebel position, especially upon a house behind which and in which numbers of rebels had all day found refuge; then General Wright was to signal from the fort the command to advance and the brigade was to rush to the charge.

Thus, with a perfect understanding on the part of all concerned, the brigade took its place.

The flag of the Seventy-seventh waved the signal of readiness, the heavy ordnance in the fort sent volley after volley of thirty-two pound shells howling over the heads of our men into the midst of the rebels, and through the house where so many of them had found shelter, and then at the command of Sedgwick's "man of iron," the brave fellows started eagerly forward. They reached and passed the skirmishers, and the white puffs of smoke and the sharp crack from their rifles became more and more frequent, first the rattle of an active skirmish, and then the continuous roar of a musketry battle.

In magnificent order and with light steps they ran forward, up the ascent, through the orchard, through the little grove on the right, over the rail fence, up to the road, making straight for the first objective point, the frame house in front. The rebels at first stood their ground, then gave way before the impetuous charge.

The President, the members of his cabinet and the ladies, as well as the military officers in the fort, and the crowd of soldiers and citizens, who had gathered about it to witness the fight, watched with breathless interest the gallant advance as our boys pushed forward, keeping their line of battle perfect, except when now and then some regiment having the advantage of ground, in its eagerness got a little in advance of others, until they saw the rebels take to flight. Then the crowd at the fort rent the air with exultant cheers, and as the boys reached the house, the people were wild with excitement, shouting and clapping their hands, leaping and dancing with joy.

But the rebels did not yield without resistance. They met our men bravely, and though forced to seek safety in flight, turned and poured their volleys into the ranks of the pursuers.



Lieutenant-Colonel Johnson, commanding the Forty-ninth, a brave man, who had never shrunk from danger, and who had shared all the varied fortunes of the brigade since its organization, fell mortally wounded. Colonel Visscher, of the Forty-third, who had but lately succeeded the beloved Wilson, was killed. Major Jones, commanding the Seventh Maine, was also among the slain; and Major Crosby, commanding the Sixty-first Pennsylvania, who had but just recovered from the bad wound he received in the Wilderness, was taken to the hospital, where the surgeon removed his left arm from the shoulder. Colonel French, of the Seventy-seventh, was injured, but not seriously. The commanding officer of every regiment in the brigade was either killed or wounded.

The fight had lasted but a few minutes, when the stream of bleeding, mangled ones, began to come to the rear. Men, leaning upon the shoulders of comrades, or borne painfully on stretchers, the pallor of their countenances rendered more ghastly by the thick dust which had settled upon them, were brought into the hospitals by scores, where the medical officers, ever active in administering relief to their companions, were hard at work binding up ghastly wounds, administering stimulants, coffee and food, or resorting to the hard necessity of amputation.

At the summit of the ascent, the confederates were strengthened by their second line of battle, and here they made a stout resistance; but even this position they were forced to abandon in haste, and as darkness closed in upon the scene, our men were left as victors in possession of the ground lately occupied by the rebels, having driven their adversaries more than a mile.

The Vermont brigade now came to the relief of the boys who had so gallantly won the field, and the Third brigade returned at midnight to the bivouac it had left in the morning. But not all returned. Many of those brave fellows who went with such alacrity into the battle, had fallen to rise no more. In the orchard, in the road, about the frame house and upon the summit, where the rebels had made so determined a resistance, their forms were stretched upon the green sward and in the dusty road, stiff and cold. Many more had come to the hospital severely injured, maimed for life or mortally wounded.

The little brigade, numbering only a thousand men when it went into action, had lost two hundred and fifty of its number.

During the night the raiders made their escape toward Rockville. The prisoners left in our hands told us that they had anticipated an easy victory in front of Washington, believing that the forts were defended only by convalescents and quartermaster's men, and, when they saw the white crosses of the old Sixth corps, they were seized with consternation. They now understood that the city was guarded by veterans who had acquired, in the rebel army, a disagreeable reputation.

While the battle was in progress, President Lincoln stood upon the parapet of the fort watching, with eager interest, the scene before him. Bullets came whistling around, and one severely wounded a surgeon who stood within three feet of the President. Mrs. Lincoln entreated him to leave the fort, but he refused; he, however, accepted the advice of General Wright to descend from the parapet and watch the battle from a less exposed position.

Cavalry was sent in the morning to ascertain the direction of the flight of the enemy, but the infantry remained quietly awaiting events.

We gathered our dead comrades from the field where they had fallen, and gave them the rude burial of soldiers on the common near Fort Stevens. None of those high in authority, who had come out to see them give up their lives for their country, were present to pay the last honors to the dead heroes. No officer of state, no lady of wealth, no citizen of Washington was there; but we laid them in their graves within sight of the capital, without coffins, with only their gory garments and their blankets around them. With the rude tenderness of soldiers, we covered them in the earth; we marked their names with our pencils on the little head-boards of pine, and turned sadly away to other scenes.

But though no concourse of citizens followed the patriots to their humble resting place, though no bands wailed the solemn dirge, and no casket but the earth inclosed their remains, their deeds were not forgotten. Their memory was enshrined in the hearts of the people; and after a few weeks their remains were exhumed from their scattered graves, they were placed together in a little inclosure on the sunny slope in front of the fort, and a beautiful monument tells the story of their noble sacrifice.



CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY.

The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy—Crossing the Potomac—Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap—Return of the Sixth corps to Washington—March back to Harper's Ferry—Return to Maryland—Death of Major Ellis—General Sheridan assigned to command—Back in the Valley—Charlestown—John Mosher—March to Fisher Hill—Return to Charlestown—Fight at Charlestown.

At one o'clock the column of the Sixth corps moved away from Fort Stevens, marching through the little village of Tanleytown, following in pursuit of the rebels. We moved rapidly till ten o'clock, then halted, much fatigued, at Potomac Cross Roads. At five o'clock, next morning, we were once more on our way, and after a march of twelve hours through a pleasant country, we made our bivouac at Poolsville, having marched thirty-six miles since leaving Fort Stevens. Our Sixth corps, with the two divisions of the Nineteenth corps, now constituted a new army, under command of General Wright, General Getty having command of the Sixth corps. At Poolsville we lay all day, waiting for our small cavalry force to find out the course which Early's army had taken, but on Saturday morning, the 16th, we were moving at daylight. We marched toward the Potomac, which we forded near the scene of Ball's Bluff slaughter. The spectacle at the ford was novel and exciting. The stream was wide, but not more than two or three feet deep. The bottom was rough and stony, and the current was strong. For nearly a mile up and down the river the brigades were crossing; the stream filled with infantry wading with difficult steps over the uneven bottom, mounted officers carefully guiding their horses lest they should stumble, trains of artillery and wagons slowly toiling through, and groups of pack animals scarcely able to keep their footing under their huge burdens. The laugh of hundreds sounded up and down the river, as some unfortunate footman, slipping from a smooth stone, would, for a moment, disappear beneath the surface of the river, or as some overloaded mule or pack horse, losing his footing, would precipitate his load, and peradventure the small negro boy, who, in order to secure a dry passage across the ford, had perched himself on the top of the bags and bundles, into the rushing waters.

The troops gathered upon the southern bank of the river, and the infantry proceeded to empty the water from their boots and shoes, and to wring it from their stockings. This short task over, the march was resumed.

Passing through a section where some very interesting conglomerate rocks attracted the attention of those scientifically inclined, we left the little town of Leesburgh behind, and at eight o'clock in the morning encamped in a ploughed field, tired and hungry, and, it must be confessed, a little dissatisfied at the idea of sleeping on ploughed ground while fresh meadows were on every side of us. In this bivouac we spent the Sabbath, and services were held by the chaplains in the various brigades.

Early Monday morning the march was resumed, our little army passing through the delightful hill scenery of Loudon county, and through the diminutive villages of Hamilton and Purcellville. As the afternoon advanced, we found ourselves toiling up the ascent of the Blue Ridge, pleasant farm houses and fine orchards greeting our sight on either side of the road. Darkness was upon us before we passed through Snicker's Gap, a deep gorge in the mountains, through which winds a rough, unkept road; and by the moonlight we spread our blankets for another night's rest.

The morning revealed the lovely Shenandoah Valley spread out before us, its river lying at our feet.

The troops of the "Army of Virginia," under Averill, had engaged the enemy with doubtful success before our arrival. Indeed, the troops on both sides seemed to have become demoralized. The rebels were retreating, and Averill's men had made their way back to the east side of the river in such hot haste as to leave some of their flags floating in the stream.

We remained during the 19th in apparent uncertainty as to what course to pursue, whether to give chase to the enemy, who it was now supposed had made good his retreat up the valley, or to return to Washington. But an order from General Grant, directing General Wright to get back to Washington at once with the Sixth corps, that the troops might be at once returned to the Army of the Potomac before Early could reinforce Lee, determined our course, and at night we were again passing through Snicker's Gap, the infantry and teams crowded together in the narrow defile to the great inconvenience of the footmen and annoyance of the artillerymen and teamsters. Marching rapidly all night and the next day, halting only a short time for coffee in the morning and at noon, we retraced our steps to Leesburgh, then following the turnpike we reached and passed Drainsville, and halted near Difficult creek. July 23d, the corps marched through Lewinsville and Langley, passed Camp Griffin, the memory of which was indissolubly connected with our first winter in the service, crossed Chain bridge and went in camp near Tanleytown, five miles out from Washington.

Transports were waiting on the Potomac to convey us to City Point, but as matters in the valley still seemed unsettled, the corps remained at Tanleytown, and on the 25th, it became certain that Early with his army was again moving down the valley, threatening Maryland and Pennsylvania. The Sixth corps received orders to move at once toward Harper's Ferry, but by some delay it was noon of the 26th when it turned back from Tanleytown toward the scene of our future brilliant operations.

The day on which the corps moved had been hot, and many of the men, weary with long marches, had been forced to fall out, but, most of all, bad whisky from Washington had demoralized great numbers, and these, with the sick and weary, made up a great crowd of stragglers. The task, which was assigned to the rear-guard, the Seventy-seventh New York, of urging these inebriated and discouraged ones toward their commands, was not an easy or agreeable one. The corps made all haste in the direction of Frederick, which city it reached on the 28th, crossing the field of General Wallace's battle with Early.

Without halting at Frederick, except to get our coffee near Monocacy creek, we pushed on to Jefferson, getting into camp at midnight. The next day we marched through Knoxville, Newton and Sandy Hook, through that wonderful gorge in the mountains at Harper's Ferry, and arrived at evening footsore and weary at Halltown, four miles south of Harper's Ferry. Then, next day we were ordered back again. The whole command poured into the deep valley at Harper's Ferry, the day was sultry even for that locality, not a breath of air seemed to be stirring, and the high mountains on every side reflected the heat and kept off the breeze. Into this hot, dusty inclosure among the hills, the whole army poured, and as there was only a single pontoon bridge to serve as an outlet, there was of course great delay. Horses stood harnessed to the cannon or under the saddle, the sweat literally pouring off their sides like rain, while men panted for breath and seemed almost on the point of suffocation. It was late in the night when our corps was all over the bridge, and the march was continued without rest during the whole night and all next day till we arrived again near Frederick City, where we had a night and a day of rest. We now learned that the cause of our sudden countermarch was the raid of Early's cavalry, who had burned the city of Chambersburgh, and caused much destruction of property elsewhere.

By this time the Sixth corps was, in army parlance, "about played out." Even our famous marches on the Gettysburgh campaign were eclipsed by this perpetual series of forced marches for nearly a month. The men were very much worn from their campaigns before leaving Petersburgh, but now we had had a month of traveling, night and day.

Hardly were the troops settled in camp for a night of rest, before the bugle called them to go again. Now when we marched, horses would drop down by dozens along the road, unable to rise again. Their riders would strip them of their saddles, and leave the worn out steeds to their fate. If, by chance, one of these deserted horses, after a few hours of rest, could muster strength to rise to his feet, he was doomed to be seized by some drummer boy, or other wight of the "bummer" tribe, mounted and rode till his strength again failed. Then the dismounted bummer would coolly remove his hempen bridle, shoulder his drum, and seek for another steed. For two or three days past the weather had been excessively hot, and men could be seen lying all along the roadside, as we marched, suffering from sunstroke.

Wednesday, August 3d, the Sixth corps marched to Buckeystown, a little village on the Monocacy, about five miles south of Frederick.

The different brigades of the corps were scattered about on the hillsides which bounded the pleasant valley of the Monocacy, where pure fresh air was in abundance, and the men gladly availed themselves of the privilege of bathing in the delightfully clear waters of the river. For a distance of nearly two miles the river was filled with bathers at all hours, except in the hottest part of the day and in the night, and even then some might be seen enjoying the luxury of the bath.

At Buckeystown we remained two days, in the enjoyment of a pleasant bivouac; yet, as though no place was free from evil, an event occurred here afflictive to our brigade and to the corps.

Among the most energetic and brave officers of our Third brigade, was Major Ellis, of the Forty-ninth New York. He had been wounded at Spottsylvania while leading a charge against the enemy at the terrible "angle." A ramrod had passed through his left arm, and bruised the chest near the heart. He was taken to Fredericksburgh, from whence he went to Washington, and thence home. Returning to his command before he had fully recovered, he was advised by medical officers not to attempt any severe duty. But being detailed to the staff of General Russell, commanding the First division, he at once resumed active military duties. On these recent marches, the major, weary of inaction, had taken command of a body of men who acted as additional provost-guard to the division.

In this position he had exhibited his usual energy, though it was thought by some he executed his duties with too great severity. Ever since receiving his wound, he had complained of severe neuralgic pains in the region of the heart. Except that this pain was slightly more acute than usual, the major retired to his tent on the night of the 3d, in his accustomed health.

In the morning he sent his servant from the tent for a moment, and when the man returned the major was dead. An autopsy was made by the writer of these pages, in the presence of about twenty of his professional brethren. A sharp splinter of bone from one of the ribs was found with its acute point piercing vital organs.

The funeral display was the most imposing ever witnessed in any corps of the Army of the Potomac. We had seen military pageants on a large scale, but nothing to compare with this in its solemn sublimity.

The remains were laid in state in a large tent near General Russell's head-quarters, wrapped in a silken flag, and the tent itself was draped with the Stars and Stripes. Presently the major's regiment, the Forty-ninth New York, came as mourners, unarmed, and formed in two ranks facing each other near the tent. Then the chaplain of the Forty-ninth, led in a short religious service, very appropriate and very impressive, while the whole of the First division was being formed in two parallel lines facing each other, and about eighty paces apart. The service over, a regiment of heavy artillery came to act as escort. The remains, inclosed in a rude coffin, wrapped in the flag under which he had so often fought, were placed in an ambulance, and the funeral cortege began its slow march through the long lines of sunbrowned veterans who stood on either side. First in the procession was the escort, the muskets of the men reversed, preceded by a band playing a solemn dirge. Then the ambulance with the remains, the major's hat, coat and sword lying upon the coffin; then his riderless horse, saddled and bridled, and led by a servant; then the regiment as mourners; and finally General Russell and the staff of the First division with the division flag, and the staffs of the three brigades of the division, and our Third brigade, Second division, each with its flag, with a large concourse of officers, personal friends of him whose remains were thus honored.

As the cortege proceeded with slow steps between the lines of soldiers, they stood with arms presented, and the colors of the regiments drooped as the procession passed. Thus attended the remains were conveyed to the railroad station, three miles distant, where they were placed on board a train for Washington.

Lieutenant-General Grant visited our army on the 5th of August, and, in consultation with General Hunter, determined upon a course for our future operations. So quietly was this visit of the Commander-in-Chief of the armies made, that very few in our little army knew of the presence of General Grant.

Among other things determined upon at this time was a change of commanders. General Hunter, who had commanded the "Army of the Shenandoah," with credit to himself and honor to our arms, was to be relieved, and General Philip S. Sheridan, who had, since the commencement of the spring campaign, commanded the cavalry corps of the Army of the Potomac, was to take command of all the forces operating against Early. The department of West Virginia, Washington, Susquehanna and the Middle Department, were to constitute the "Middle Military Division," to be under the command of General Sheridan. To this middle military division the Sixth corps was temporarily assigned. This was a new era in the history of that corps. Hitherto it had been, from the beginning, connected with the noble Army of the Potomac. Its history and its fame were inseparably connected with the history of that army, and when the corps had come to the rescue of the capital, it came as a detachment of the Army of the Potomac. Now, for the first time, the corps was to be identified with another army. But great as was the fame and honor which the corps had, by noble deeds, won for itself, it was now, by heroic achievements in the new field, to crown itself with glories even more dazzling than those in its proudest days in the old army.

We were ordered, on the evening of the 5th, to march immediately. The troops of the Sixth corps proceeded at once to Monocacy Junction, where they took cars for Harper's Ferry. The quartermasters, and hospital trains followed rapidly by the wagon roads.

Troops and trains reached the heights beyond Harper's Ferry at night, and on the following morning the line of battle was established at Halltown.

General Sheridan now assumed command. We knew little of him except that he had very successfully commanded the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac for the last three months, but we were satisfied that General Grant trusted to his generalship, and we had already learned enough of General Grant's knowledge of human nature to place confidence in the general of his choice.

One thing pleased us at the start. Our new general was visible to the soldiers of his command; wherever we went he was with the column, inhaling the dust, leaving the road for the teams, never a day or two days behind the rest of the army, but always riding by the side of the men. His watchful care of the details of the march, his interest in the progress of the trains, and the ready faculty with which he brought order out of confusion when the roads became blockaded, reminded us of our lamented Sedgwick. Another feature of the new administration pleased us. When the head-quarter tents of the commander of the Middle Military Division were pitched, there was one wall tent, one wedge tent and two flies. This modest array of shelter for the general and his staff was in happy contrast with the good old times in the Army of the Potomac, when more than eighty six-mule teams were required to haul the baggage for head-quarters of the army.

At Halltown we remained for a few days, gaining what we so much needed, rest. The air was delightfully cool and refreshing, and it seemed as though each particular breath was laden with health and strength.

We were rejoiced to see some of our Army of the Potomac cavalry joining us, and our army began to assume dimensions which filled us with confidence. We had now the Sixth corps, General Wright, two divisions of the Nineteenth corps under General Emory, and Hunter's "Army of Virginia," usually called the Eighth corps, under command of General Crook. Our cavalry consisted of Averill's force which had been in the valley, and we were now receiving two divisions from the Army of the Potomac, one in command of General Torbert, the other of General Wilson. The cavalry force was soon afterward organized, with General Torbert in command of the whole force, and Generals Custer, Averill and Merritt, each in command of a division.

On the tenth of the month we commenced our march up the Shenandoah Valley. No sooner had the sun made its appearance above the Blue Ridge than we found the day to be most intensely hot. Soldiers were falling along the roadside in great numbers overcome with the heat, and what added to the hardships of the day's journey was the want of water. The turnpike along which we marched was parallel with a fine stream of water on either side, but the water was so far distant as to be useless to the soldiers. Yet there were a few springs and wells at some distance from the road which supplied those who could leave the column.

We passed through Charlestown, the scene of the trial and execution of John Brown. There was the court house to which he was brought on his couch to receive his trial for treason, and there the jail in which he spent his last days, and from which he was led to execution. How had all things changed! The people who stood about the gallows of John Brown, and gnashed their teeth in their bitter hatred, were now themselves guilty of treason. The court house was in ruins, and the jail was but a shell of tottering walls. The town also had suffered fearful ravages from war, and now a Union army was marching through its streets, every band and every drum corps playing the stirring but to southern ears hateful air, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave," and we may anticipate our narrative to say that whenever our army or any part of it had occasion to pass through this town, the bands always struck up this air, as if to taunt the inhabitants with the memory of their victim, and played it from one limit of the town to the other. So John Brown was revenged!

The Shenandoah Valley has been often called the "Garden of Virginia," and truly it is a lovely valley, yet as we marched along we could see but little cultivation. The groves of oak were delightful. Teams with wagons might be driven anywhere among them. But the fields were mostly desolate. Here and there a field of corn promised a medium crop if left to ripen untrodden by our army, but there was no luxuriance of vegetation. The mountains, the Blue Ridge on one side and the North mountains on the other, rose abruptly from the valley in parallel lines, and looked as though a race of Titans had been at war, and had thrown up these long ridges as breastworks for opposing forces.

A little beyond Charlestown was a lovely meadow, lying between two groves of oak. At the further end of the meadow was a neat white cottage, where there seemed more comfort than we had seen elsewhere in the valley. The place was away from the direct line of march, and partly concealed by the groves.

Those who left the column were furnished by the family with pure sweet water from a well, which the family asserted was sunk by order of General Braddock. Such places were so rare that our men and animals suffered from thirst. Few who were on that march will forget a spring which we passed near the close of that day's march. A large white frame house stood upon an elevation, surrounded by trees, and at foot of the elevation, a large spring, under the shade of a huge willow, and surrounded by other trees. The water gushed out from a fissure in the rock, clear as crystal, and in such volume that a large brook was formed at once. Over the spring was the usual "spring house." Soldiers filled this building, covered the great rocks, crowded the grove, and for many yards around a dense mass of men pressed to get near the tempting fountain, all eager to fill their cups and canteens, and hasten on with the column. No one can know with what delight the soldiers quaffed the sparkling fluid from their sooty coffee pots, who has not suffered the torture of extreme thirst.

We halted near Clifton, and resumed our march on the following morning, to suffer, if possible, more from heat and thirst than ever. At night we bivouacked near Opequan creek. We threw ourselves upon the grassy sward, with the beautiful canopy of heaven with its mottled clouds and twinkling stars and flying meteors, for our tent. For many of us, this was the only tent we had slept under since leaving Petersburgh, and we were satisfied with it. The air was purer and the breeze fresher than when we were inclosed by canvas.

Again, on the morning of the 12th, we were marching. We passed through the villages of Newtown and Middletown, and halted at night on the banks of Cedar creek.

We were startled in the morning by the announcement of the death of a good soldier. John Mosher had marched with the column the day before, but owing to the overpowering heat was obliged to fall a little behind. Toward evening, finding himself too much exhausted to walk further, he applied for and obtained permission to ride in an ambulance of the First division. During the night he was found to be dying. The kind hearted surgeon in charge of the hospital of the First division, Dr. Crehore, and one of his assistants, spent some hours with him, using every means to restore him, but without avail. He died before morning. A letter in his pocket told his name and regiment. We made a grave near Cedar creek, and a few of his comrades stood around it while he was lowered to his bed of earth, wrapped in his blanket. The chaplain offered a brief prayer; his fellows in arms fired a parting salute, and we left him to sleep in the valley where, a few weeks later, some of his companions were to rest by his side.

On the 13th all the troops were across on the south side of Cedar creek. The pickets of our Second division occupied one end of the village of Strasburgh, while those of the enemy held the other. We were sure that we must fight here, and we were not unwilling. Our cavalry was scouting on the flanks, skirmishing with rebel cavalry and searching for a way to outflank Early's army. The rebels held a position of great strength, and to make a direct assault would be to run a great risk of a repulse. The walls of the valley, the Blue Ridge and the North Mountains, came close together here, and, to render the position stronger, Fisher Hill, a commanding eminence, a prominent object in the landscape, to be seen from one end of the valley to the other, rose directly in our front and obstructed our passage. Upon the declivities of this hill the enemy had planted batteries so as to command our approach from any direction.

We remained gazing at this strong position till nightfall, and then recrossed the river, and made our position strong for defense. General Sheridan had been instructed by General Grant not to bring on a general engagement unless it was forced upon him. General Grant regarded our army rather as one of defense than for offensive operations. Should we suffer defeat, the capital and the rich fields of Pennsylvania and Maryland would again be open to the rebels. So we were to watch their movements and hold them in check, but we were not to risk a battle with them.

Meanwhile, the ubiquitous Mosby was at work in our rear, at Berryville, with a band of guerrillas. He had made a bold dash upon a long train, belonging principally to the cavalry, and guarded by almost a brigade of hundred days' men; had dispersed the inexperienced guard, which was scattered along the road for miles; had captured the mules, and burned the wagons and supplies. Seventy-five wagons had fallen a prey to the adventurous bandit, while the hundred days' men had made good their escape. Old men, women and children, joined in the work of destruction, setting fire to the wagons, and carrying off whatever articles they could easily remove from them. Prisoners whom they captured were murdered, either by Mosby's band, or by the more merciless citizens, and left unburied.

This raid upon our communications led General Sheridan to fear a more general advance of the rebels beyond the mountains, with a view of coming with force upon our rear.

So, on the evening of Tuesday, the 16th, the army marched northward down the valley again. All night and all the next day the weary march was kept up. We went through Winchester, where the rebel women came out by hundreds to rejoice at our retreat, and halted on the banks of the Opequan for the night. Then, when the morning came, we were off again, and, after a severe march, formed in line of battle a mile south of Charlestown.

The Jersey brigade, under Colonel Penrose, was left as rear-guard and support to the cavalry on the retreat. At Winchester the brigade, flanked by cavalry, made a stand. The enemy came down upon the brigade in large force, handled it roughly, and sent the Jersey boys through the town in confusion. Their resistance had been all that could have been asked; but the brigade, staunch as it was, was not enough for the force that came against it.

Our Sixth corps guarded the turnpike leading from Harper's Ferry to Winchester. On the left of the pike, facing southward, was our Second division, and on the right our First division.

The Eighth corps held the center of the line, and the Nineteenth corps the left, its flank resting on Berryville.

On Sunday morning, the 21st of August, our cavalry was driven back upon the infantry, and we suddenly discovered the enemy coming down upon the Sixth corps in three heavy columns. With scarcely any warning we found shells pitching into our camp among the standing tents, and bullets whistling among the trees that afforded us shelter from the sun.

The corps was quickly in line, the tents struck and everything in fighting trim. Our boys received the onset of the rebels with cool bravery, giving them back volley for volley. The fight was kept up for several hours, the Eighth corps being but slightly engaged, and the Nineteenth corps not at all. Our Second division, Sixth corps, receiving the weight of the attack. Our men threw up breastworks along the front, and at length the Vermont brigade was ordered to charge upon the enemy. The charge was executed with the usual brilliancy and fighting joy of that brigade and the confederates were glad to leave us in undisputed possession of the ground.



CHAPTER XXX.

BATTLE OF WINCHESTER.

Encampment at Berryville—Leaving camp—The advance—Taking position—Advance and retreat—Death of Russell—"I know they'll run"—Reminiscences—At the hospitals—A regiment going home—"Why don't he come."

The rebels were repulsed; but as our position at Charlestown was one that might easily be flanked, our army fell back during the night to the strong position at Halltown, where defensive works were thrown up, and again we awaited the advance of the enemy; but except some skirmishing on the left of the line, no attack was ventured by Early; and after two or three days he withdrew to the vicinity of Winchester, and established his line along the west bank of Opequan creek, so as to cover the three roads leading from Martinsburgh, from Harper's Ferry and from Berryville to Winchester. We followed and established our line on the east side of the creek, and some miles from it, at Berryville.

Our encampment at Berryville was one of the most delightful of our resting places, even in the Shenandoah Valley. We passed the days pleasantly, strolling or riding among the groves of black walnut, visiting among the various regiments, amusing ourselves with chess and books. Nothing occurred to interrupt these pleasant pastimes and the monotony of picket duty until the 13th of September, when the Second division was directed to make a reconnoissance to the Opequan. We marched to the creek very early in the morning, found the enemy in force, lost a few men by the shells from the rebel batteries, and returned to camp.

On the 15th our army was visited by Lieutenant-General Grant. The story of his visit we give in his own words:

"I left City Point on the 15th to visit him (General Sheridan), at his head-quarters, to decide, after conference with him, what should be done. I met him at Charlestown, and he pointed out so distinctly how each army lay; what he could do the moment he was authorized, and expressed such confidence of success, that I saw there were but two words of instruction necessary—Go in! ... I may here add that the result was such that I have never since deemed it necessary to visit General Sheridan before giving him orders."

Thus the two armies lay face to face, with the stream and a narrow strip of country between them, either able to bring on an engagement at any time. The quiet was broken on the morning of the 19th, when we advanced to win the first of that series of brilliant victories which startled Europe and America; which gave to our little army an enviable renown among the armies of the Union, and established the reputation of our chief as one of the foremost generals of the age.

Early had taken the initiative. On Sunday the 18th, he had sent General Gordon's division toward Martinsburgh, with orders to drive out the Union forces, and destroy the government property. Gordon was met by Averill's cavalry and driven back to Drakesville. Sheridan, discovering the mistake made by Early in separating his forces, was quick to avail himself of the advantage of his enemy's blunder. Orders were issued to move at once, but, for some reason, several hours elapsed before the army was ready.

We left our pleasant camps at Berryville, at two o'clock Monday morning, the Sixth corps in advance, moving in two columns, one on either side of the road, the ammunition wagons, artillery and ambulances taking the pike. The Third brigade, Second division, led the infantry. The Nineteenth corps followed the Sixth, marching in similar order, its infantry in the fields and its artillery and wagons on the pike, while Crook's Kanawha corps moved further to the south, with orders to connect with the Sixth corps at Opequan creek. Two divisions of cavalry, under Merritt and Averill, were directed to amuse the enemy near Bunker's Hill, and draw the attention of the rebel generals in that direction as much as possible. It was the design of General Sheridan thus to amuse the enemy on the left while he should march his army up the Berryville and Winchester pike, strike the right flank of Early's army, and by a sudden and unexpected attack, to get in the rear and cut off the retreat of the rebel forces. By one of those inexplicable mistakes, which sometimes upset the plans of our generals, this design was not fully realized, and had General Sheridan been less determined and less dashing, he might have abandoned the idea of attacking Early at all.

At five o'clock Wilson's cavalry had crossed the creek before us, having dispersed the pickets of the enemy, driving them back to their line of field works, and then, by a dashing charge, had leaped their horses over the breastworks of the first line of defenses, and routed the rebels, capturing about fifty of their number.

Immediately after this gallant exploit of the cavalry, the Sixth corps crossed the creek and advanced on the turnpike about a mile, where the enemy was found in force. As we moved along, through the deep ravine, following the pike, we were warned of the active work we might expect in front, as we saw cavalrymen coming to the rear, some leading their wounded horses, others with their heads bound in bloody handkerchiefs, some with arms hanging in slings, others borne on litters. Here by the roadside might be seen the prostrate, lifeless form of some soldier of the Union; there, where a silvery brook babbled along across the pike, on its grassy banks, and beneath the shadow of a large tree, was gathered a little group of boys in blue, performing the last acts of kindness to a comrade in whom the vital spark was almost extinguished, and a surgeon bending over the dying soldier striving to render less painful the few lingering moments of life.

We moved up a steep ascent and formed in line of battle in a cornfield; the Third brigade on the left, the First in the center, and the Vermonters on the right; then on the left of the Second division the Third division got into position, and the First division came up in the rear as reserve. Our artillery was brought into position and a vigorous shelling commenced on both sides.

The Sixth corps was now ready for a charge upon the enemy, but it was discovered that, by some misconception of orders, the Nineteenth corps, which should have been on the ground, was left far behind. Orders were dispatched to hasten it to the field of action, but two hours, precious hours to that army, elapsed before it was in position.

Those two hours of delay enabled Early to strengthen his right; to throw up strong earthworks, and bring Gordon's division on the run, to his assistance. We had been fortunate only in seizing the position on the west side of the stream, or the battle would, from this delay, have been worse for us.

Merritt and Averill, by skillfully maneuvering their troops in front of Bunker's Hill, had enabled us to seize this advantage.

The Nineteenth corps was formed on the right of the Sixth, in four lines of battle; Wilson's cavalry was on our left. It was eleven o'clock when the advance was sounded. In our front were undulating fields, traversed by deep ravines, almost stripped of timber, except where the rebels had formed their line of battle in a belt of woods that skirted the turnpike. It was an imposing spectacle to watch that line of battle, stretching three miles across the fields, as it moved toward the rebel lines, the men as composed as though on parade, the line straight and compact, the various division, brigade and regimental flags floating gaily in the sunlight. Away in our front we could see Winchester; its gleaming spires and shining roofs, bright with the warm glow of mid-day, and we proudly felt that before night it would be ours. Onward, through the cornfields and over the grassy knolls, now descending into a ravine and now rising upon the open plain, where the rebel artillery swept with terrible effect, the long line pressed forward, regardless of the destructive fire that constantly thinned our ranks. At every step forward, men were dropping, dropping; some dead, some mortally hurt, and some with slight wounds. Now on this side, now on that they fell; still the line swept forward, leaving the ground behind it covered with the victims.

Thus we pushed onward, the rebels falling back, desperately disputing every step, when a murderous fire, from batteries which the enemy had skillfully placed, suddenly swept our right with fearful slaughter.

Thus far all had gone well. Now our hearts were sick as we looked far to the right and saw the Nineteenth corps and our Third division falling back, back, back, the grape and canister of the hostile cannon crashing through the now disordered ranks, and the exulting rebels following with wild yells of victory.

The retreat of the troops on the right of the Second division left its flank, held by the Vermonters, exposed, and they, too, were forced to fall behind the Third brigade, which still held its ground, the fire in its front being at the moment less severe. Our batteries were rushed forward, and the gallant First division, the noble Russell at its head, came bravely up to the rescue.

As the noble soldier brought his division into position a cannon ball swept him from his horse—dead. A great spirit had fallen, and in a moment we were made an army of mourners. "I have lost my captain," said Sheridan, as the work of the day closed.

We all remembered the modest, almost bashful, demeanor of the fallen general among his friends, and his glorious heroism in the presence of his enemies, and many tears moistened the brown cheeks of rough soldiers as they thought of the loss of one of our best beloved leaders.

But, notwithstanding the loss of their hero, the brave division pushed straight on. Nothing could withstand them; and now, joined by the other troops of the corps, the boys with the red crosses press on, and as the peals of musketry and artillery roll through those valleys, it tells of victory for the Union. The lost ground is regained, and now the fire in front of the Sixth corps slackens.

We rested, throwing ourselves on the ground, waiting for orders. Some of the men, fatigued from the early march and severe morning's work, slept; while others regaled themselves from their well filled haversacks; and many gathered in groups to talk over the doings of the morning, and to speak of those who had been stretched upon the sod, who had fallen with their faces to the foe.

We were waiting for Crook's corps. It had halted on the eastern bank of the river as reserve for the army. Now it was brought forward at quick pace and placed, a part on the right of the Nineteenth corps, where the rebels could be seen massing troops on their left, with a view of turning our right flank, the other part in rear of the Nineteenth corps. Averill and Merritt, too, were with the army, and our whole force was together. It was nearly three o'clock when Crook's forces were brought into position. His right was in a thick forest, and against him were heavy columns of rebels.

At length we, of the Sixth corps, heard rapid firing away on the right of the forest. All was attention. Every man stood to his arms ready to advance. Sheridan came to our part of the line. His face all aglow with excitement, the perspiration rolling down his forehead, his famous black steed spotted with white foam, a single orderly at his back. He rode straight to General Getty, exclaiming, "General, I have put Torbert on the right, and told him to give 'em h—l, and he is doing it. Crook, too, is on the right and giving it to them. Press them, General, they'll run!" and then, using one of those phrases sometimes employed in the army to give additional force to language, he shouted again, "Press them, General, I know they'll run!" And then the shout that went up from the men drowned all the other noise of the battle.

We did press them, and they did run. Over the long stretch of open plain, down into the deep hollow, up again and over the rolling ground, past the white farm house, on we went. The rebels would run, then reaching a commanding position, they would turn their artillery upon us and sweep our line with iron hail. On our left was Wilson, with the cavalry charging through the growing corn, the sabres gleaming in the sunlight, the iron scabbards clanging against iron spurs, the horses dashing madly forward in seeming disorder, but all rushing, like an avalanche, against the right wing of the enemy. Now the retreat became a rout. The cheers of the Union boys rose strong and clear above the roar of artillery and the harsh rattle of musketry, and Early's scattered and demoralized divisions were rushing through Winchester in consternation and unutterable confusion. Frightened teamsters were lashing their animals through the streets in greatest alarm; riderless horses were galloping here and there, and pack mules were on a general stampede. Some streets became entirely blocked up by the disordered mass, and even footmen could not press through; a squad of cavalry coming to one of these obstructions leaped from their horses and made their escape on foot. Our cavalry, taking advantage of the confusion, rushed among the panic stricken fugitives and gathered hundreds of them; captured fifteen battle-flags and five guns.

The remnants of the rebel army collected some miles beyond the town, and reformed; but after a short rest made haste to get farther up the valley. As we advanced we found the mountains full of fugitives, and in the town were thousands of their wounded.

The infantry halted upon the high grounds at the borders of the town, leaving the cavalry to follow up the pursuit of the flying foe; and as Generals Sheridan, Wright, Emory and Crook rode along our front, we made the welkin ring with lusty cheers. Glorious leaders of a victorious army!

At our feet was Winchester, the scene of Washington's early military experience. Here he was stationed during the French war, and shared in the perilous sentinelship of the frontier. For then the valley was ravaged by French and Indians, and fearful massacres were of frequent occurrence; and when Washington demanded of Governor Dinwiddie reinforcements, and was refused, he offered to resign; and when the governor could not allow him to resign he sent him men.

Here, on the ground occupied by the Seventy-seventh New York regiment, near the ruins of an old church, was the grave of General Daniel Morgan, the hero of Quebec and Saratoga, the friend of Washington. A plain marble tablet, broken across, now covered the grave, with a simple inscription, his name and the date of his death, 1802.

In the cemetery, still north, we saw, as we passed, the resting place of Thomas, Earl of Fairfax; a great tory in his day, and the owner of immense tracts of land in this part of Virginia, and from whom Fairfax county took its name.

The sun had sunk to his golden rest behind the wall of hills on our left when we arrived at the outskirts of Winchester; and, as darkness set in, the infantry of our victorious army stretched themselves upon the ground to sleep. It had been a hard day's work, and the men were faint. It required no unusual inducements to woo the angel of sleep.

If the day had been an active one on the field, it had been no less so in the hospitals. First, early in the morning, came ambulance loads of men with white crosses; they were from the Third brigade, Second division, all from the Seventy-seventh New York. Then came others from the Forty-ninth New York, from the Seventh Maine, and from the One Hundred and Twenty-second and Forty-third New York. Then came men from the Vermont brigade, and from our First brigade, and soon the hospitals of the Third division began to be filled. Then, last of all, came the men of the red crosses, bleeding and mangled. Surgeons worked all day and all night. There was no rest as long as a wounded man was uncared for. Yet, when morning came, and the medical officers were ordered forward with the army, there was much to do, and faithful men were left to finish the needful task. Next morning Winchester was full of rebel wounded and rebel prisoners. Five thousand men in gray were under guard in the court house yard and other public places, and Colonel Edwards' brigade of the First division was left to take care of the prisoners and the town. Many brave men had fallen. Russell was gone; the gallant Upton was wounded; Colonel Elright, of the Third division, was dead, and many, many brave boys were lying with their blackened faces to the sun, a slip of paper or a letter envelope pinned to the breast of each to tell the buriers his name and regiment.



The term of service of one of our regiments, the Fourth Vermont, had expired, and on the day after the battle the small remnant of the regiment, a company of about forty men, under command of Colonel Foster, started for Harper's Ferry, on their return home. They had suffered heavily, and they left many of their brave comrades dead upon the battle-field, or suffering in the hospitals. How had those noble boys, whose lives had, at the very expiration of their three years of toil, danger and privations, been given for their country, rejoiced at the prospect of a speedy reunion with the loved ones at home. How had they written, even the day before the battle, "we are going home!" and then how had the loving ones, away among the beautiful green hills of Vermont, exulted at the thought that now, after three long years of suspense and anxiety, the danger and toil were over. And we can picture to our thoughts the mother who watches with eager interest the smoking train as it dashes along at the base of the old hills, wondering if her patriot son will not come to-day; but instead, a letter comes with the heavy news, a great battle has been fought and her son lies in the Valley; or, on the banks of the sunny Champlain, some young sister or lover gazes from the window of the cottage among the trees, at the steamer as it glides over the surface of the beautiful lake and touches at the wharf near by. But her soldier boy is not on board, and she watches in vain to see his familiar form coming toward the cottage. She sadly leans her head upon her hand and sighs, "Why don't he come?"



CHAPTER XXXI.

FISHER HILL.

March up the valley—Strasburgh—The army confronting Fisher Hill—The flank movement—Flight of Early—The pursuit—Guerrilla warfare—Southern refugees—Starting for Washington—Return to Cedar creek.

We started very early in the morning in pursuit of Early's defeated army, which it was supposed would halt at the strong position at Strasburgh. On the battle-field which we left, the lifeless bodies of many of our men were awaiting the office of the burial parties. They lay, not in thick clusters, but here and there over a great extent of ground, showing that they had fallen while the lines were in motion; but in places, six or eight mangled bodies would lie in close proximity, showing the fatal effects of some well directed shell.

In Winchester were nearly five thousand prisoners, and more were constantly coming in, and hundreds of rebel wounded were being cared for by sympathizing friends and confederate surgeons.