Part 4

There is rarely any great loss of life through artillery firing. While the singing of minie balls has an ominous sound in the ears of the most hardened veteran, the roar of a battery, except at close quarters, when throwing grape and canister, is not very alarming to him. Why, at the great artillery duel of White Oak Swamp, in June, 1862, our loss, except in artillerymen, was slight, and the artillerymen killed and wounded were mostly picked off by the rebel sharpshooters, while General "Dick" Taylor, who commanded the Confederate troops immediately across the bridge, says that severe as was our fire, their loss from shells was but a small one. So, in all the wild uproar at the siege of Charleston, our loss from flying shells was ridiculously small, viewed from the standpoint of infantry engagements, the careful watch the outlooks kept from the parapets, the facility for shelter, and the promptness of the men in getting into safe places, saving many lives and limbs. But there were several narrow escapes, and some curious ones too. How shall we account for that of Lieutenant Foster, who after remaining comfortably seated for hours upon an empty ammunition box on the parapet of Chatfield, entirely ignoring the fast coming shots of the enemy, suddenly rose and stepped off the parapet, and just as he stepped off it, the box he had been seated on went into the air, struck by a piece of shell! And that of Private Darling, who, working at a mortar, suddenly stepped backwards just in time to save himself from being cut in two by the whistling copper bottom of a Brooks' rifle shell that went flying right across the spot he had just stood on. But it was not all so bloodless. One day, the 8th of December, a mortar shell struck the magazine of Chatfield in its weakest spot, and went crashing into it. For a moment we outside the magazine were panic stricken, expecting the immediate bursting of the shell and the blowing up of the magazine, in which we had many barrels of powder stored. But fortunately the shell was so surrounded with the tons of sand that poured into the magazine with it, that its bursting flame was completely smothered and did not touch a grain of our powder. We hastened to dig our buried men out, and found Corporal Albee, of C, killed by a piece of the shell, Private Kimball, of E, mortally wounded, and Sergeant Howard, of K, Corporal Bearce and Privates Maddox and Bragdon, of D, more or less severely injured.

We worked at our batteries during the day only, as a rule, returning to the regimental camp each night, leaving the batteries to be defended from any attempt of the enemy to occupy them by the heavy and light guns of direct fire, and by the infantry force that was marched up the island each night and ensconced in the bomb proofs of Wagner and Gregg. But such an attack never came, the Confederates contenting themselves with long range demonstrations, though frequently indulging in a heavy night shelling of our works, as if to cover a landing.

At these times the air would be full of artillery pyrotechnics, the flaring of bursting shells, and the sparkling arcs of mortar shells with their flaming fuses, described by an old writer as appearing in the night to be "fiery meteors with flaming tails, most beautifully brilliant." A fine exhibition for those out of range.

In December, reenlistments began from among the original men of the regiment, though they had a year yet to serve, proving to us that the government had settled down into the conviction that the war was far from being near its end. Many of D put their names on the reenlistment roll.

Later on, the 23d of January, 1864, D, with B, entered Fort Wagner as part of its garrison. It was really a sort of going into winter quarters--without the winter--for you could lie out of doors, under one blanket, in the nights of December and January, and sleep as comfortably as a soldier need to.

The siege of Charleston was really abandoned by now, and the troops that had been engaged in it were only held in hand until the time should come for them to go to Virginia to engage in graver operations.

Though regularly trained to use the thirty-two and the one-hundred pound Parrot guns Wagner was mainly armed with, we did not fire them often now except for range practice, or to send a shell now and then shrieking into Charleston. We usually aimed at the tall white steeple of St. Michael's Church, the most prominent object in the foreground of the city, and a most useful one to the Confederates, for a bright light kept burning at night from this steeple served as a guide to blockade runners. Getting the light within a certain range of one on Sumter and they could keep the channel and glide safely into the harbor. Not always, though. Early one foggy morning, that of February 2d, just after daybreak, a sentry called the attention of the sergeant of the guard to a patch of harder color in the soft atmospheric gray of the fog bank that lay between us and Sullivan's Island. A hasty inspection and a sudden lift of the fog showed us that there was a blockade runner fast ashore under Moultrie.

The alarm was quickly given, and in a few minutes a hundred-pound shell was whirling through the fog at the grounded blockade runner, the powerful impact of the shell serving to lift the fog enough to show us the lead colored vessel, with hundreds of men swarming in and out of it, engaged in a desperate attempt to unload freight before the Yankees should discover her presence. There was a wild scattering at the sound of the coming shell, the runner was left to serve us as a target, and we sent shell after shell into her until she was but a wreck.

Our Confederate friends would still favor us with a serenade of shot and shell in spite of our peaceful demeanor. And once or twice they did this so vigorously as to cause the commanding general to think they were really on the point of attacking us with infantry. Beauregard says that he made one of these night bombardments to give our commander just that idea to cover his own withdrawal of troops to Florida to General Finegan, about the time the battle of Olustee was fought in that state. Regiments of our troops would then come to Wagner to stand at the parapets all night, while we artillerymen worked the guns to keep down the enemy's fire. It was in one of these bombardments, that of Christmas night, that Private Laffin, of D, was so badly wounded, a piece of shell striking the bayonets of some stacked rifles, one of the pieces of shattered steel penetrating a leg.

This night our gunners paid particular attention to Charleston, I remember, throwing shells into that city until a large fire broke out in it, and then throwing shells at the glare of the fire. The men fighting the fire in the city, largely colored non-combatants probably, would succeed in getting the flames somewhat under control. We could see them lower and lessen, then they would suddenly flare up bright and red again, telling us that the screech of one of our going shells had driven the fire fighters to cover.

A "cruel war" it was, especially to non-combatants that circumstances of situation or greed placed in dangerous positions. Just think of the terror the enterprising sutler must have been in who had pitched a big tent outside of Fort Wagner that none of our boys having money need go without such delicacies as pickled pig's feet, canned condensed milk, ginger cakes, strong butter and slabby skim milk cheese, just think of the terror he must have been in when he would leave all these precious goods to destruction for the sake of his unexpectedly endangered person.

For a few days after his arrival he did a thriving business, then came one of the nights of heavy bombardment from James and Sullivan islands. In the morning the tent was still on the beach, but with certain suggestive looking holes in it. An investigation showed a medley of goods shattered and piled into a chaotic mass by invading shells, but the sutler was not to be found. He did not appear to us again, but it was said that he evacuated his bed and fled to the lower extremity of the island, as the first shell broke unceremoniously in upon his private apartment. That afternoon men came with an army wagon and carried away what Lieutenant Nel Norris would call the "debris" of boxes and barrels with what little remained of the stock of goods. That there was little besides shattered boxes and barrels to cart away, may be somewhat due to the fact that the men of D and B had been busily engaged during the forenoon in buying goods in the absence of their frightened owner.

At last the time came for leaving Morris Island. The reenlisted men had gone away on their veteran furlough, and finally D and B rejoined the regiment, which had been camping on Black Island since early in February. The Eleventh proceeded to Hilton Head, from where it sailed away with other troops the 21st day of April for a point on the York River, Virginia, from where our fleet had sailed a little more than a year before for the purpose of capturing Charleston. That the attempt had been a failure is to be attributed largely perhaps to the route of approach chosen. Beauregard says that there were three routes of attack from the sea, and that Morris Island was the worst of the three. He says that had we effected a lodgment on James Island instead, and have overcome the garrison there, as we did that of Morris Island, we had but to erect batteries within such easy distance of Charleston as to make it untenable, and as we would also be in the rear of their outer line of defense, they would have been obliged to evacuate Sumter, Moultrie and Wagner, and give up the city. That a similarly successful descent upon Sullivan's Island would have given the control of the inner harbor to the fire of our ironclads, with a similar result. But that when we had Morris Island, our occupation of it neither involved the evacuation of Sumter and the other forts, the destruction of the city by a direct fire, nor the control of Confederate movements in the inner harbor by the ironclad fleet. Be this as it may, beyond the destruction of Sumter, and the taking of Wagner, little had been accomplished, and we left Charleston and its defenses much as we had found them, the fleet riding outside the bar, the rebel flags still flying over Sumter, Sullivan's and James, Charleston still in the distance, now as exultantly defiant as it had been sullenly so in the height of the siege.

THE CAMPAIGN OF 1864.

The regiment arrived at Yorktown, Va., April 24th, and landing at Gloucester Point, on the opposite bank of the York River, went into camp. Here the reenlisted men rejoined the regiment from "veteran" furlough, bringing with them 176 stalwart recruits. These new recruits were distributed through the companies, and though almost without drill or preliminary discipline, they marched, fought, bled and died in the rough campaign of '64 as manfully as did the seasoned veterans they strove in their pride to emulate, both in bravery and endurance.

Yorktown was a very familiar spot to most of us. It stood just across the York River from our camp, on a high bluff-like shore, and still surrounded by the earthworks captured from Magruder, turned and strengthened by ourselves; grass-grown in the months that had passed since we sailed away from them.

The plains below the town, where the camps of our brigade had been, were now white with the tents of a part of the troops of the newly organized army of the James. This new military organization was composed of the Tenth Corps, drawn from the troops in South Carolina, consisting of three divisions, commanded by Generals Terry, Turner and Ames; the Eighteenth Corps of three divisions too, commanded by Generals Brooks, Weitzel and Hinks; and of a cavalry division commanded by General Kautz. These corps were commanded respectively by Major-Generals Q. A. Gillmore and W. F. "Baldy" Smith, the whole army by Major-General Benjamin F. Butler.

Our regiment was in the Third Brigade of Terry's Division. The other regiments of the brigade were the 24th Massachusetts, 10th Connecticut, and the 100th New York.

BERMUDA HUNDRED.

On the night of the 4th of May the transports the army had embarked on set sail for Fortress Monroe, and on the 5th moved up the James River, reaching Bermuda Hundred the afternoon of the 5th, and by morning of the 6th had disembarked. Bermuda Hundred is a peninsula, made by a sweep of the James River to the east and by its tributary, the Appomattox. It is at the mouth of the latter river, on its north bank, City Point lying opposite it on the south bank. Petersburgh is twelve miles up the Appomattox on its south bank, and Richmond twenty-three miles north of Petersburgh, directly connected by a railroad and turnpike.

On the morning of the 6th of May our disembarked forces advanced to the neck of the peninsula, about six miles from the landing. This neck is here about three miles across from river to river, two miles and a half beyond our halting point the railroad runs, the pike running between. The ground we took up was superficially intrenched at first, the plan not looking to a protracted stay there, but to an advance on the railroad and pike, the taking of Petersburgh and a march on Richmond and its southern communications. The force ready to oppose us was a small one, no larger than our brigade, and our army numbered some 30,000 men. But before vigorous steps were taken to capture Petersburgh, it had been reinforced by troops hurried forward from North Carolina by General Beauregard, our old opponent of the Department of the South, now in command of the Department of North Carolina and Southern Virginia. It was the head of this reinforcing column that successfully held Port Walthall Junction the 7th of May against a portion of our army. On the 9th we moved out to the front and destroyed the railroad between Swift Creek and Chester Station, a length of about six miles. On the 10th, the Confederate General, Ransom attacked this outlying force, but was repulsed. On the 12th we moved towards Richmond, Smith's corps on the right and ours on the left. We did not meet with any serious resistance this day. At night our line camped on Proctor's Creek. On the 14th we meet with more resistance. Smith found the works in his front too strong to be assaulted, but our corps moving to turn the enemy's right, resting on Wooldridge Hill, succeeding in forcing them to abandon their position there, and by night of the 15th we had driven them out of their whole outer line and into their interior one, and we were in position before Drury Bluff. But while we had been moving so slowly, Beauregard had been acting with such rapidity that he was now in the Drury's Bluff intrenchments with an army gathered from North Carolina and Richmond, and felt so strong that on the morning of the 16th he assumed the offensive, attacking Smith's right flank in the early morning, and capturing General Heckman and some hundreds of his brigade. Beauregard's plan miscarried somewhat, or he might have ended the career of the army of the James before it had fairly begun. He intended to get around our flank, while General Whiting should move out from Petersburgh with 5,000 men and attack our rear. His attack against Heckman was successful, but the other attacks on Smith's line failed, though the rebels captured four pieces of artillery, but his attacks on the line of our corps were all repulsed. Still we were pressed back, partly by the numerical force thrown against us and partly from our anxiety to cover our trains and keep our connections with Bermuda Hundred, where we had left but a small force. By night our army had given back until the rebels occupied their whole outer line again, but Whiting's force failing to advance, Beauregard could not press his advantage as he wished to, and before morning our whole force was safely behind the Bermuda Hundred intrenchments. The truth is that General Whiting was not a prohibitionist by any means, and this day of all days in his military career, he chose to exemplify that fact by getting drunk. Colonel Logan, of General Beauregard's staff, who took General Whiting written orders to move out the morning of the 16th, delivered them to him the night of the 15th, and was with General Whiting when on the morning of the 16th, beginning at daylight, he made his advance. Striking the Union picket line, his force was placed in line of battle, but made no advance during the day, in spite of Colonel Logan's expostulations and those of General D. H. Hill, "spending the day in arranging and rearranging his line," according to Colonel Logan, who does not doubt but had General Whiting followed his instructions the result would have been the capture of the entire force of General Butler.

Company D had not yet been actively engaged. It had been under fire a number of times though, quite enough to show the good stuff its new men were made of. It had taken an active part in tearing up the railroad, and had done a little long range skirmishing in which its only casualty was Private Annis, wounded on the 14th; but I think that the members of it who had been in the most serious danger were those on the picket line the night of the 13th.

The picket line of this night was in charge of Captain Mudgett. In running it he placed some of us before the open grounds in which stood the house before which Lieutenant Brannen, of Company I, was killed, and then by some devious piloting placed another line between us and our line of battle, a bit of duplication that was decidedly unpleasant to us of the outer picket line, for the Confederates were terribly uneasy that night, firing heavily all along their apparently very strong picket line, we replying, of course, but--_zip_, _zip_, in front of us was all very well, but where did the bullets that flew around us from the rear come from? The unpleasant fact speedily dawned on us that a picket line lay behind us firing too at the Confederate rifle flashes, as they supposed, but really at our own, so that we poor fellows were between two fires. To attempt to go back to expostulate with the pickets behind us was impossible, for the inevitable crashing through the underbrush between us and them would concentrate sure death upon the messenger. So all we could do then was to stay where we were, cease firing, and lay low. This last we did literally, lying flat on the ground while the bullets zipped viciously back and forth over us, one every now and then striking this or that side of a tree with a suggestive spat.

But Private Day would fire, to lie still and be shot at was contrary to his nature. Every once in a while his gun would bang from his position on the left of the line, giving the enemy in front and the line behind us a range by which to pelt us most dangerously. Again and again I had to go down the line and expostulate with John, but it was of no use, and at last I was forced to take my position with him and by sheer ill-temper keep him repressed, while he foamed with wrath at the idea of being compelled to lie still and silent to be shot at.

The night of the 15th our regiment took a position on the extreme left, where we threw up a sort of intrenchment in anticipation of an attack. But in the morning the heavy firing and the shouting told us that the other flank was the one attacked. We remained in our position a short time in the thick fog, hastily getting coffee boiling and the inner man strengthened for what seemed to be a coming day's work. Soon an order came for us to move to a position in support of the assailed line. As we moved rapidly along the line, we passed General Terry's headquarters, a small house, out of which the General rushed in his shirt-sleeves to admonish us to double quick "for God's sake." Then, striking a panting gait, we soon took position under a heavy fire.

Here we lay watching the give-and-take going on in front of us, expecting each minute to be obliged to fill a gap, but instead we were suddenly ordered to march rapidly to the rear and push down the pike toward Petersburgh till we should meet the supposed to be approaching Whiting.

And we did march rapidly. The fog was long gone, and the sun was beating down hot and strong. Men fell right and left, not bullet struck, but sun-struck. Caps were filled with green leaves, handkerchiefs were soaked in water and tied around swelling temples, but still it was "Forward," "Forward." The desperate pace seemed endless, but at last we were halted, formed in a strong skirmish line, and moved through woods till we reached a creek where we awaited the Confederate advance.

We could hear them talking and moving beyond the creek, but for reasons now known to you, they did not cross it. We remained in this position until night, then by a circuitous route, down one ravine and up another, under the piloting of Lieutenant Newcomb and Sergeant Payne we stole away, and soon found ourselves behind the outworks of Bermuda Hundred.

The 17th of May was passed by the men in necessary recuperation, and by the commanding officers in a rearrangement of lines, now looking to defense. That night the pickets at Warebottom Church reported a movement down the pike. The sound of trampling horses and the rattling of heavy wagons came clearly to their ears. It was conjectured that a wagon train was moving down the pike from Richmond to Petersburgh, and it was determined to attack it. Troops were hurried from the inner lines to the front, and the Eleventh was formed in line of battle and moved through the woods toward the pike. As it was a bright moonlight night, and the woods were fairly clear of underbrush, this movement was rapidly made, but suddenly, click, click, all along in front came the sound of cocking guns, and as our men threw themselves upon the ground, a crash of musketry came from a line of battle the Eleventh had almost run into. For an hour fierce firing was kept up by both sides, a battery of artillery on ours, placed near the church, adding not a little to the uproar by throwing shells over our heads. At last, when our ammunition had become exhausted, and while the men, their blood up, where clamoring for a fresh supply, orders came to fall back.

The wagon train proved to be Beauregard's trains and batteries moving down from Richmond, and well sheltered from us by a strong line of battle.

Of D, Private Carver received a severe flesh wound in this affair and Private George L. Butler was mortally wounded, the loss of the regiment numbering 26 men.

The 20th of May the enemy made a most determined but entirely unsuccessful attack on our outer line. We were not engaged, however. It was this day that the rebel General Walker was wounded and captured.

Only heavy skirmishing took place for some days after this, the night firing between pickets being especially continuous. During this comparative lull, and accounting for it partly, the enemy was building the Howlett House line, extending from the Howlett House Hill on the James to the Appomattox, by this line of intrenchments effecting the famous "bottling up process," and most effectually protecting their lines of communication between Richmond and Petersburgh.

As soon as General Grant learned of the futile result of Butler's movement, from which he had hoped so much, the destruction of Confederate communication with North Carolina, the investment of Richmond, and the consequent withdrawal of a large body of Lee's army from his own front, he directed that all the troops not actually needed to hold Bermuda Hundred be sent to him under command of General Smith. In consequence of this order, 16,000 of our army with 16 guns embarked the night of the 28th, and the 29th sailed for White House Landing on the York River, leaving a force of about 15,000 infantry and cavalry in the Bermuda Hundred intrenchments.