Three Years in the Sixth Corps Part 13

Before dawn on the following morning, we made our way again to the river. Thousands crowded upon the banks, or hurriedly dashed across the bridge. The rumble of wheels upon the frozen ground, the tramp of thousands of men, the neighing of innumerable horses, mingled with the roar of musketry. The sun rose in splendor, and the spires of the city, two miles to our right, shone brightly, for only the lower part of the town had been destroyed by the conflagration of the day before, and tens of thousands of muskets gleamed in the morning light. The broad plain, on the south bank, swarmed with the hosts of Franklin and Hooker.

Musketry fire became more and more brisk, as our forces moved into position, but no general engagement came on. Sh.e.l.ls from the rebel batteries came bursting in our midst, and in reply, our own guns on Stafford Heights sent their sh.e.l.ls screaming over our heads, to burst in the midst of the rebel artillerists.

A fine stone mansion of large dimensions, situated on the south bank of the river, and a little below the bridge, was taken by the surgeons of our Second division, for a hospital. The position was exposed to the rebel fire, but it was the best that could be found. Just in front of it the gallant General Bayard, of the cavalry, was struck by a sh.e.l.l, and killed instantly. Others, some of whom had been previously been wounded, received fatal shots at the very doors of the house. The owner of this magnificent mansion still remained in it. He was an old secesh bachelor, very aristocratic in his notions, and highly incensed at the use his house was put to by the "hireling Yankees." But he was taken care of by a guard. His servants cooked for the wounded and our surgeons; his fine larder furnished us delicacies and his cellar rich old wines.

Doubtless his feelings on delivering to us the keys of his wine cellar were not unlike those of Sir Hugh Berkley in "The Wagoner;" who

"--only knew they drank his wine; Would they might hang, a scarecrow line, On the next lightning blasted tree."

Sat.u.r.day, the sun appeared, bright and warm as on a spring morning. The battle now commenced in terrible earnest. First, on the left, the booming of heavy guns and the rattle of musketry told of hot work in our own front. Then gradually the battle rolled on to the right; and while it thundered there, our forces on the left remained comparatively quiet.

Then, back again came the roar of cannon, the shrieking and cracking of sh.e.l.ls and the din of musketry.

The hills in our front were thickly wooded, and in these woods "Stonewall" Jackson had concealed his forces. General Meade, with his division of Pennsylvania reserves, and Gibbons, with his division, both of Reynolds' First corps, were sent to take and hold the Bowling Green road, which lay in the edge of the wood. Gallantly and in splendid order, the two divisions moved up toward the edge of the wood. Gibbons'

division halted at the railroad, near the wood, Meade's pressed forward, and presently disappeared among the trees. Although considerable resistance was met with, the gallant division continued to press forward, the rebels steadily giving way. Suddenly, the roar of cannon became awful, and the fire of musketry almost deafening. The rebels had opened an enfilading fire upon the division, which made fearful havoc.

The men who had so gallantly marched into the woods, came hurrying back in disorder; not, however, until they had succeeded in capturing several hundred prisoners from the enemy. A flag, one or two mounted officers, and a squad of a dozen or twenty men were all that could be recognized as a regimental organization; all others had fallen before the deadly fire that met them, or had lost their commands. The men quickly rallied about their flags and again charged into the woods, and again they were sent back in disorder. They were now withdrawn, and the rebels charged upon the line of the Sixth corps. The troops of our Second division were lying down behind a slight elevation of ground, and, as the rebels charged down furiously upon us, our men suddenly rose and poured a deadly volley into them. At the same time the troops of the First division met their attack with spirit, and sent them reeling back to their cover in the forest.

The wounded poured into our hospitals, and well did those surgeons, who had seized the stone mansion, earn that day, lasting grat.i.tude from their division.

Never had wounded men been so quickly or so well cared for. It was the beginning of an era of _organized_ labor in that department. Among the earliest of the wounded was General Vinton, commanding the Third brigade, Second division. A ball had pa.s.sed into the abdomen, and was cut out from his back. The unfortunate men were stowed in every part of the great house, and in the smaller buildings surrounding it, and tents furnished shelter for those unable to find room in the buildings. After General Vinton was wounded, Brigadier-General Thomas H. Neill was ordered to a.s.sume the command of our brigade, which he did on the battle-field.

Meanwhile, on the right, Sumner's and Hooker's forces were striving, with herculean efforts, to dislodge the enemy from his strongholds, but to no avail. His position was impregnable, and the Union forces only advanced against the works to meet with deadly repulse from the savage fire of the concealed foe, and to fall back with fearful losses. Thus the struggle lasted until evening, when the roar of battle was hushed, and our tired troops slumbered upon their arms.

On Sunday morning the rattle of musketry and the thunder of artillery commenced again, but, as little reply was made by the enemy, the demonstration on our part soon ceased, and the day was spent in comparative quiet. It was said that General Burnside, unwilling to give up the struggle, had ordered an advance of the Ninth corps, which he was personally to lead, against one of the rebel strongholds, but that he had yielded to the advice of the grand division commanders to refrain from the attempt.

Monday still found us on the battle-field. The thumping of artillery was renewed, but not fiercely. Our wounded were removed to the other side of the river. A kind providence had favored them, for the weather had been delightful. Had such weather prevailed as we experienced a few days before, many of the wounded, faint and exhausted from the loss of blood, must have perished with the cold. During the night the whole army was withdrawn, with as much secrecy as possible, across the pontoon bridges.

No sooner had the troops crossed to the north side of the river than the bridges were taken up, and the two armies were again separated by the Rappahannock. As the bridges were being taken up, the rebels rushed to the bank and fired into the pontoniers, but were repelled by the men of the Seventy-seventh New York. That regiment formed a picket line along the bank of the river, but were ordered not to fire unless the enemy did. "A pretty order," said Terry Gray, of Company B, "to wait till a man is killed before he can fire his gun!" The army went into camp on a line from Falmouth to Belle Plain; the Sixth corps occupying nearly the center of the line, at a place called White Oak Church, from a little whitewashed meeting house, without bell or steeple, in the midst of a clump of white oak trees.

The attempt to capture the heights of Fredericksburgh by a direct a.s.sault was indeed a daring undertaking, and one involving a fearful risk. The only hope of success lay in the active and hearty cooperation of all the commands of the army. Such cooperation was not to be had. To the Left grand division was a.s.signed an important work which it failed to accomplish; not because it was defeated in the attempt, but because the attempt was not made in earnest. The troops were brave and eager to meet the enemy. None were ever more brave or more desirous to test their valor. The heroic deeds of those who did advance against the enemy will ever redound to the glory of our arms; and had all the forces of the Left grand division been brought fairly into action, the result might have been different. Surely such troops as composed the grand old Sixth corps were fitted for a n.o.bler work than standing upon an open plain, exposed to fierce artillery fire, without ever being allowed to turn upon the enemy. Our defeat had cost us more than twelve thousand men, in killed, wounded and missing.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE WINTER AT FALMOUTH.

Camp at White Oak Church--"The mud march"--Return to camp--General Neill--General Hooker supersedes General Burnside--Burnside's magnanimity--General Hooker as a soldier--Reconstruction--The cavalry organized--Business departments renovated--The medical department--Ambulance system--Quartermasters' and commissary departments--Life in camp--s...o...b..ll battles--In the Seventy-seventh--The Light division--Review by General Hooker--General John Sedgwick--Scene at head-quarters--Review of the army by the President--Preparing for the campaign.

The men built huts, and made themselves as comfortable as they could, in their camp at White Oak Church, but disease spread rapidly, especially among the recruits. The regiments were crowded closely together on ground too low and wet for good camping ground, and the men, having never before erected winter quarters from shelter tents, were not so expert as they became in the succeeding winters; so they suffered from inconvenient quarters, as well as from the low ground and crowded camps.

[Ill.u.s.tration: White Oak Church]

Our army was now composed in large part, of the recruits sent from the north during the preceding summer and autumn, and thousands of these had never had any idea of fighting or of suffering the privations of army life. They had enlisted for the large bounties which were paid at that time, with the determination to leave the service as soon as their bounties were paid, and a favorable opportunity offered itself for escape. Desertions became alarmingly frequent; indeed, when a few weeks later General Hooker a.s.sumed command, there were more than eighty-four thousand absentees, with and without authority. The great number of desertions, we think, should be attributed to the fact that so large a proportion of the new recruits had enlisted for money, rather than to the demoralization of the army.

Notwithstanding the inconveniences to which the men were subjected, and the advance to midwinter, the weather was in our favor. The sun shone brightly, the days were warm and the roads dry. It became evident that General Burnside was determined not to allow the delightful weather and the excellent roads to pa.s.s unimproved. Indications of a general movement crowded upon us, and on the 20th of January came the order to march.

The whole army broke camp and moved toward Banks' Ford, two miles up the river from White Oak Church. On the march, an order from the commanding general was read to the troops, announcing to them that the auspicious moment had at length arrived when we were to reap the glorious fruits of our long toils. At five o'clock we halted in the thick woods at Banks'

Ford, the point selected for crossing the river, and in a few minutes were quietly and comfortably bivouacked out of sight of rebels on the opposite side. Scarcely had we settled ourselves for a comfortable night's rest, when the clouds, which had been gathering since morning, broke in rain, and the delightful Indian summer gave way to the rainy winter of the south. All night long the rain poured, and all the next day. It was evident we had waited too long. But the commander was determined not to abandon his effort to outflank the enemy. By morning, the roads were so softened by the rain, that horses could not haul artillery or pontoons into position. Men took the place of horses. The whole Vermont brigade was detailed to drag the pontoons and guns to the river. All day long, working and tugging with the mud above their knees; here a hundred men pulling at a pontoon boat, there a party prying a cannon out of the mire with long levers, and still other parties laying strips of corduroy road. The Vermonters pa.s.sed a disagreeable day.

General Burnside was not idle all this while. Riding from one point to another, now personally superintending the placing of a battery in position on the bank of the river, now encouraging the men who lugged at the boats and guns, and now selecting places to cut new roads, he pa.s.sed the night and the day in fatiguing and anxious labor. As he rode through the camp of our division in the afternoon, with only two staff officers, himself and his horse completely covered with mud, the rim of his hat turned down to shed the rain, his face careworn with this unexpected disarrangement of his plans, we could but think that the soldier on foot, arm oppressed with the weight of knapsack, haversack and gun, bore an easy load compared with that of the commander of the army, who now saw departing his hopes of redeeming the prestige he had lost at Fredericksburgh.

Men were detailed from each of the regiments of the corps to return to Falmouth, a distance of five miles, to bring on their backs two days'

rations; those brought by the men being nearly exhausted. But during the night it was determined to abandon the attempt to cross the river. The enemy, by this time fully aware of our intention, was prepared for us, and a crossing could only be made at great sacrifice, perhaps with defeat. So at sunrise in the morning we were on the road back to our old camp; this time for permanent winter quarters. All along the road lay a mult.i.tude of dead horses and mules, which had fallen in the tremendous but unavailing efforts of the day before. Artillery and wagons still stuck fast in the mud, and cannoniers and teamsters lifted and tugged with rails and with poles to raise the piece or the wagon from the mire.

The mud was deep, the day was gloomy and the men were discouraged. They straggled badly. Regiments were not to be distinguished. The whole column became an unorganized crowd, pressing toward the old camps. Tired and discouraged as were the men, they kept up their lively sallies and jokes, as though all was smooth work. Toward evening the troops of our corps arrived on their old ground, now to be our home until the opening of spring, and at once fell to work to restore to some degree of comfort that most desolate of scenes, an abandoned camp. Unfortunately, on leaving the place, little thinking that they were so soon to return, they had burned everything combustible, and thus a strip of board or a piece of timber could hardly be found within the limits of the corps.

Nevertheless, comfortable quarters were soon erected, and the routine of drills and picket was resumed.

Brigadier-General Neill, who was a.s.signed to the command of the Third brigade, was active in encouraging his men to provide good quarters, and in furnis.h.i.+ng every facility in his power to make them comfortable. The general was a portly gentleman, with light red hair and whiskers, and a small blue eye, ceremonious in his style, and a perfect pattern of courtliness. He had, at West Point, won the appellation of "Beau Neill,"

a t.i.tle which never left him. He was a good commander in camp. He originated the brigade dress parade that winter, often calling out the brigade on fine evenings, and subst.i.tuting the brigade for the regimental parade. The custom was at length adopted in many brigades in the army of the Potomac; but few gave credit for the improved parade to the originator of it.

The second failure of General Burnside rendered his removal from the command of the army a thing to be expected; and no one was surprised when the order came relieving him, and a.s.signing General Hooker to the command. It must be confessed that our failure at Bank's Ford had done much to demoralize the army and destroy the confidence in the commanding general so absolutely necessary to success. On our way back from Bank's Ford, as we pa.s.sed Fredericksburgh, we saw huge placards posted up by the rebels with taunting inscriptions, such as "Burnside stuck in the mud," printed in conspicuous letters. The men caught up the words, and "Burnside stuck in the mud" pa.s.sed from one end of the disordered column to the other. When we had failed at Fredericksburgh, the men were as willing as ever to try again under the same commander. They believed him to be at least earnest and brave. They knew that he was n.o.ble and self-sacrificing. In the n.o.ble letter to General Halleck, in which he a.s.sumed all the responsibility for the failure at Fredericksburgh, they found renewed a.s.surance that he had all the qualities of a true soldier--bravery, integrity and true manhood; but an army must have success, or it cannot long repose confidence in the general. So, while the Army of the Potomac regarded General Burnside with great respect, it gladly welcomed the advent of "Fighting Joe Hooker" to the command.

General Hooker had fairly won the t.i.tle of "Fighting Joe" at the slaughter of Williamsburgh, where, almost single-handed with his division, he had stemmed the tide of battle for hours, until reinforced by Kearney, and then, with the help of that hero, had held the whole rebel army until it was outflanked by our Second division.

In all the battles of the Peninsula he had been conspicuous, and at South Mountain and Antietam his fighting propensities were exhibited in more than their wonted splendor. In person he was of large stature, with fine features, brilliant eye, his side whiskers and ruddy countenance giving a more youthful appearance than his light gray hair would indicate. His gleaming eye told of the spirit which animated the man, and his determined air betokened the persistent and fearless soldier. In battle or on review he rode a magnificent milk white steed, a powerful animal and of extraordinary fleetness. Mounted on this superb war horse, he was the most conspicuous, as he was always one of the handsomest men in the army.

The energy of the new commander soon began to be manifested in the reconstruction and reorganization of the whole army. The first step in the progress of reconstruction, was the revocation of the order making three grand divisions of the army. By the abolition of the grand divisions, Generals Sumner and Franklin were relieved from their commands; and the corps commanders, no longer subject to intermediate commanders, were again directly responsible to the general-in-chief of the army. Doubtless General Hooker had seen that the creation of these grand divisions had much to do with the failures of General Burnside.

The cavalry next engaged the attention of the general. The whole force was thoroughly reorganized and put in an efficient condition, under command of Major-General Stoneman. Hereafter, men were not to ask, "Who ever saw a dead cavalryman?" To General Hooker, the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac owes its efficiency and the glorious record it from that time made for itself.

The superiority of the rebel cavalry, in the early part of the war, was generally attributed to the supposed fact that the young men of the south were so much better hors.e.m.e.n than those of the north. In reality, this had little, if anything, to do with it. It is even very doubtful if there was any difference in favor of the superior horsemans.h.i.+p of the southern cavalry. Their strength lay in their union. The rebel cavalry was organized from the beginning; ours was an incoherent ma.s.s of men, having no proper relations or dependencies within itself. From the day that it became organized, the superiority of the rebel cavalry pa.s.sed away forever. We had always better horses, and our men were certainly never inferior to the rebels. All that was needed was the proper combination of action; and, as soon as this was secured, our cavalry became the finest in the world.

The business departments were also thoroughly renovated. The changes in the medical, quartermasters' and commissary departments were such as to bring each to a standard of perfection, which had never before been reached by those departments of any army in the field. No army had ever been provisioned as was ours that winter. Soft bread, potatoes, beets, carrots, onions, fresh beef, flour, sugar and coffee, const.i.tuted the regular rations of the men, and facilities were afforded for procuring luxuries not in the regular supply.

The medical department became so thoroughly systematized, that wounded and sick men were cared for better than they had ever been in an army before. This radical change had commenced under General Burnside; but was perfected under General Hooker, by the efficient and earnest medical director of the army, Dr. Letterman; to whom belongs the honor of bringing about this most desirable change.

By the new system, the surgeons were enabled to accomplish a far greater amount of work, and in much better order than under the old; and the wounded were better and more quickly cared for. By this system the hospital of the division was the unit. From the division, a medical officer of good executive ability was selected, to whom was a.s.signed the general oversight of the hospital. One or more surgeons of well known skill and experience were detailed from the medical force of the division, who were known as "operating surgeons;" to each of whom was a.s.signed three a.s.sistants, also known to be skillful men, who were either surgeons or a.s.sistant surgeons. To the operating surgeons all cases requiring surgical operations were brought, and thus the wounded men had the benefit of the very best talent and experience in the division, in the decision of the question whether he should be submitted to the use of the knife, and in the performance of the operation in case one was required. It was a mistaken impression among those at home, that each medical officer was the operating surgeon for his own men. Only about one in fifteen of the medical officers was intrusted with operations.

From each brigade an a.s.sistant surgeon was detailed to provide food and shelter for the wounded. His duty was to superintend the erection of hospital tents as soon as there was a prospect of an engagement, and to have hot coffee and rations of food ready for the wounded as soon as they came to the hospital; he was to attend to their clothing, bedding and rations as long as they remained in the hospital.

Another a.s.sistant surgeon from each brigade was selected to keep the records; to take the name and character of wound of every one who was brought to the hospital, with the operation, if any; and the list of deaths, the place of burial, and all other matters necessary to record.

An a.s.sistant surgeon was to remain with each regiment, and attend to getting the wounded from the field into the ambulances, and to arrest hemorrhage in case of necessity.

Thus, all labor was systematized. Every officer and nurse knew exactly what to do: each had his own part of the work a.s.signed to him, and there was no conflicting of orders or clas.h.i.+ng of opinions.

Our ambulance system was also very perfect--so complete, indeed, that, after a year of trial in the Army of the Potomac, congress adopted it as the ambulance system of the United States. To Doctor Letterman, also, belongs the honor of originating this system.

The ambulances of each corps were under command of a captain, who acted under directions from the medical director of the corps. A lieutenant commanded the ambulances of a division, and a second lieutenant those of a brigade. To each ambulance was a.s.signed a driver, and two stretcher-bearers; and to three ambulances a sergeant, mounted. The ambulances of a division always went together, behind the division, and on the march were attended by a surgeon, an a.s.sistant surgeon, a hospital steward, a cook, and three or more nurses, who were to attend to the wants of the sick in the ambulances, and at night, if any were unable to return to their regiments, to erect tents for them, and supply them with food and bedding. In an engagement, the stretcher-bearers of each regiment, with the sergeant, reported to the a.s.sistant surgeon in attendance with the regiment. As soon as a man was wounded, he was brought to the medical officer, put into an ambulance, and taken to the division hospital. By this means, ordinarily, every man was carried to the hospital of his own division.

The improvements in the quartermasters' department were nearly as great; and we have already alluded to the abundant supplies furnished by the commissary department.

Great difficulty was experienced by the troops of our corps in getting wood. The men of our Second division lugged wood on their backs a mile and a half, with which to do their cooking and warm their tents. But notwithstanding the hards.h.i.+ps they endured, the inclemency of the winter, and their severe picket duty, the men were gay. In many of the regiments, the sounds of the guitar and accordion could be heard every evening; and on pleasant afternoons and evenings, parties a.s.sembled in the company streets and danced cotillions, and polkas, and jigs, to the music of violins. When snow covered the ground, mimic battles with s...o...b..a.l.l.s were a frequent amus.e.m.e.nt. At times, one regiment would challenge another, and a general melee would follow. s...o...b..lling was, particularly, a favorite amus.e.m.e.nt with our friends of the Twenty-first New Jersey, who never let an opportunity pa.s.s for indulging in their favorite sport. Each party carried its flags and was led by officers chosen for the occasion. The capture of a flag, or of a number of prisoners, from an opposite party, caused great glee among the victors.

A good deal of interest was excited throughout the Second division by a s...o...b..ll battle between one of the Vermont regiments and the Twenty-sixth New Jersey. Both regiments formed in line of battle, each officered by its line and field officers, the latter mounted. At the signal, the battle commenced; charges and counter-charges were made, prisoners were taken on either side, the air was filled with the white missiles, and stentorian cheers went up as one or other party gained an advantage. At length victory rested with the Vermonters, and the Jersey boys surrendered the field, defeated.

Another favorite amus.e.m.e.nt in the corps was the game of base ball. There were many excellent players in the different regiments, and it was common for the ball-players of one regiment or brigade to challenge another regiment or brigade. These matches were watched by great crowds of soldiers with intense interest.

In our Seventy-seventh regiment, matters went on much the same as in other regiments of the corps. We had our share of disease and desertions. We had our ball-players and our violinists; our singers and our story-tellers, as every regiment had. At regimental head-quarters, matters went on gaily. It was the custom of the officers of the field and staff to collect in one of the tents as evening came on, and, in company with friends from other regiments, pa.s.s the hours in lively converse, in singing and relating amusing stories.

We had a glee book and an old copy of the "Carmina Sacra," and then our friend, Colonel, now Major-General, Connor, was never at a loss for a song, and Colonel French often displayed his genius with the violin, and our friend, the chaplain, could always tell a good story or perpetrate a joke. Chaplain Norman Fox was an accession to our staff, who joined us when we first encamped at White Oak Church. He was a gentleman of enterprise and talent, who, soon after his arrival in camp, inst.i.tuted a series of religious meetings on week days, in addition to the regular services of the Sabbath, and a good deal of religious interest was awakened among the men.