Chapter 16

THE BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE--CONTINUED

Recurring again to the incident of the band playing out there between the two hostile lines in the midst of that panic of the Eleventh Corps, it was a remarkable circumstance that none of them were killed. I think one or two were slightly wounded by pieces of exploding shells, and one or two of their instruments carried away scars from that scene. The rebels did not follow up their advantage, as we expected, probably owing to the effective work of our batteries, otherwise they would all have been either killed or captured. None of the enemy came into our clearing that I saw. We must have corralled upward of eight thousand of our demoralized men. Some had their arms, most of them had none, which confirmed the story of their surprise narrated in the last chapter. They were marched to the rear under guard, and thus the further spread of the panic was avoided.

It was now dark and the firing ceased, but only for a few moments, for the two picket-lines were posted so close together, neither knowing exactly where the other was, that both were exceedingly nervous; and the slightest movement, the stepping of a picket, the scurry of a rabbit, would set the firing going again. First it would be the firing of a single musket, then the quick rattle of a half-dozen, then the whole line with the reserves, for all were on the line together there; and then the batteries, of which there were now at least a half-dozen massed right around us, would open with terrific vigor, all firing into the darkness, whence the enemy was supposed to be coming. This continued at short intervals all night long.

After the mob of fugitives had been disposed of, our division had formed in line of battle directly in front of the Chancellorsville House, supporting the provisional line which had been hurriedly thrown in to cover the break of the Eleventh Corps, and we were "resting (?) on our arms." At each of these alarms every man was instantly on his feet, with guns at a "ready." General French and staff were close to us, and General Couch and his staff only a few feet away. All were exceedingly nervous and keenly on the alert. It was a night of terrific experience long to be remembered.

The nervous strain upon all was simply awful. We knew that the Eleventh Corps had been stampeded by the impetuous charge of Stonewall Jackson, and we felt sure he would seek to reap the fruits of the break he had made by an effort to pierce our centre, and this we would have to meet and repel when it came. We did not then know that in the general mix-up of that fateful afternoon that able and intrepid leader had himself fallen and was then dying. This fact, fortunate for us, undoubtedly accounts for the failure of the expected onset to materialize. We could probably have held him, for we had two divisions of the Second Corps and part of the Third Corps in double lines, all comparatively fresh, and before midnight the First Corps was in position on our right. But the slaughter would have been horrible.

After midnight these outbursts became less frequent, and we officers lay down with the men and tried to sleep. I do not think any of our general officers or their staffs even sat down that whole night, so apprehensive were they of the descent of the rebels upon our position. I said in the last chapter that on Saturday morning some beef cattle were slaughtered near our line for issue to our division; that the work of distribution had not been completed before the panic came, and then these carcasses of beef were between ours and the rebel line on "debatable ground." This was too much for some of our men, and two or three crawled out to them during the night and helped themselves to such cuts as they could make from our side. One party next day told of being surprised by hearing cutting on the other side of the beef, and found, on investigating, that a "Johnny" was there, when the following colloquy took place:

"Hello, Johnny, are ye there?"

"Yes, Yank; too bad to let this 'fresh' spoil. I say, Yank, lend me your knife, mine's a poor one. We 'uns and you 'uns is all right here. Yank, I'll help you if you'll help me, and we'll get all we want."

The knife was passed over, and these two foes helped each other in that friendly darkness. How much actual truth there was in this story I do not know, but I do know that there was considerable fresh beef among the men in the morning, and it was not at all unlikely that the Johnnies also profited by the presence of that "fresh" between the lines. Soldiers of either army would run almost any risk to get a bit of fresh beef.

The next morning we were ordered to pile up our knapsacks and make a breastwork of them for such protection as they might afford, in anticipation of the still expected attack. We managed to make a cup of coffee and eat a hardtack without getting off our guard for an instant, and about ten o'clock the First Brigade, now Carroll's, and ours, consisting of two regiments only, the First Delaware and ours, under command of our Colonel Albright, were ordered forward into the woods to the right of the Chancellorsville House. This was the opening of the third day's battle. We moved forward in excellent line until we struck the edge of the woods. The moment the crackling of the brush under our feet apprised the enemy of our advance we received a heavy volley, which must have been very hurriedly delivered, for it passed over our heads, not a man being hit, I think. The morning was lowering and misty and the air very light, so that the smoke made by the rebel volley, not more than fifty yards away, hung like a chalk line and indicated their exact position. The sudden retirement of our lieutenant-colonel at this point placed the command of the regiment on me, and I shouted to the men to aim below that line of smoke and then gave the order, fire by battalion, and we emptied our guns as one man, reloaded, and receiving no reply to our volley, moved forward through the thick brush and undergrowth. We soon came upon the rebel line, and a dreadful sight it was. The first officer I saw was a rebel captain, an Irishman. He ejaculated, "We're all killed! We're all killed!" and offered to surrender. The commanding officer must have suffered the fate of his men. Most of them were either killed or wounded. The hundred or so living promptly threw down their arms, and Colonel Albright sent them to the rear under guard. This Irish captain vouchsafed the remark sotto voce that he was glad to be captured, that he'd been trying to get out of the d----n Confederacy for a year. Our battalion volley had exactly reached its mark and had done fearful execution. There must have been more than two hundred lying there either dead or wounded, marking their line of battle. This was the only instance in my war experience where we delivered a volley as a battalion. The usual order of firing in line of battle is by "file," each man firing as rapidly as he can effectively, without regard to any other man. The volley they had delivered at us was a battalion volley, and it would have effectively disposed of our advance had it been well delivered. Fortunately for us, it was not, and their smoke-line gave us the opportunity to deliver a very effective counter-stroke. It had to be quickly done, we were so close together. There was no time to meditate. It was us or them. Instantly I resolved to give them all we could, aiming well under their line of smoke, and take our chances with the bayonet if necessary. The order was calmly given and the volley was coolly delivered. I have never heard a better one. The value of coolness in delivering and the effectiveness of such a volley were clearly demonstrated in this instance.

We again moved forward, working our way through the tangled undergrowth, and had gained probably five or six hundred yards when we encountered another line, and sharp firing began on both sides. We could see the enemy dodging behind trees and stumps not more than one hundred yards away. We also utilized the same shelter, and therefore suffered comparatively little. Suddenly I found bullets beginning to come from our left and rear as well as from our front. Two of these bullets had been aimed at me as I stood behind a small tree on our line. The first knowledge I had of them was from the splinters of bark in my face from the tree, first one and then the other in quick succession as the bullets struck, not more than three inches from my head. They were fairly good shots. I was thankful they were no better. But now I had to move a couple of companies to the left to meet this flank attack. It did not prove a serious matter, and the enemy was quickly driven back. The same thing was tried shortly after on our right flank, and was again disposed of the same way. They were probably groups of sharpshooters hunting for our officers. One of them, I happened to know, never went back, for I saw one of our sergeants kill him. I was at that moment standing by him, when he clapped his hand to his ear and exclaimed, "That was a 'hot one,'" as a bullet just ticked it. "There is the devil who did it. See him behind that bush?" and with that he aimed and fired. The fellow rolled over dead.

We soon had the better of this fighting and our opponents withdrew. We seemed now to be isolated. We must have been nearly a half mile from where we entered the woods. We could not see nor hear of any troops on our immediate right or left. Colonel Albright came back to consult as to what was best to be done now. The brush and undergrowth were exceedingly dense. What there might be on our right or left we could not know without sending skirmishers out. The colonel said his orders were to advance and engage the enemy. No orders had come to him since our advance commenced, two hours and more before. We had met and beaten two lines of the enemy. Should we continue the advance or retire and get further orders? My advice was to retire; that with our small force, not more than five hundred men, isolated in that dense wood, we were liable to be gobbled up. The colonel agreed with this view and ordered the line faced about and marched to the rear. I mention this consultation over the situation because here we were, two young men, who knew almost nothing about military matters beyond obeying orders, suddenly called upon to exercise judgment in a critical situation. Bravery suggested push ahead and fight. To retire savored of over-prudence. Nevertheless, it seemed to us we had no business remaining out there without connection with other troops on either right or left, and this decided the colonel to order the retreat.

We moved back in line of battle in excellent order and quite leisurely, having no opposition and, so far as we knew, no troops following us. We came out into the clearing just where we had entered the woods two hours before. But here we met a scene that almost froze our blood. During our absence some half-dozen batteries, forty or more guns, had been massed here. Hurried earthworks had been thrown up, covering the knapsacks our brigade had left there when we advanced. These guns were not forty yards away and were just waiting the order to open on those woods right where we were. As we emerged from the brush, our colors, fortunately, were a little in advance, and showed through before the line appeared. Their timely appearance, we were told, saved us from being literally blown to pieces by those batteries. A second later the fatal order would have been given and our brigade would have been wiped out of existence by our own guns!

As we came out of the woods an aide galloped down to us, his face perfectly livid, and in a voice portraying the greatest excitement shouted to Colonel Albright: "What in h----l and d-mnation are you doing here? Get out of here! Those woods are full of rebel troops, and we are just waiting to open on them." Albright replied very coolly, "Save your ammunition. There is not a rebel within a half mile, for we have just marched back that distance absolutely unmolested. Why haven't you sent us orders? We went in here two hours ago, and not an order have we received since." He replied, "We have sent a dozen officers in to you with orders, and they all reported that you had been captured." Albright answered, "They were a lot of cowards, for there hasn't been a minute since we advanced that an officer could not have come directly to us. There is something wrong about this. I will go and see General Hooker." And directing me to move the troops away from the front of those guns, he started for General Hooker's head-quarters, only a short distance away. As I was passing the right of that line of batteries a voice hailed me, and I turned, and there stood one of my old Scranton friends, Captain Frank P. Amsden, in command of his battery. Said he, as he gripped my hand, "Boy, you got out of those woods just in time. Our guns are double-shotted with grape and canister; the word 'fire' was just on my lips when your colors appeared." I saw his gunners standing with their hands on the lanyards. After forty years my blood almost creeps as I recall that narrow escape.

We now moved to the rear across the plank-road from the Chancellorsville House in the woods, where we supported Hancock's line. Colonel Albright soon returned from his visit to Hooker's head-quarters. His account of that visit was most remarkable, and was substantially as follows: "I scratched on the flap of the Hooker head-quarters' tent and instantly an officer appeared and asked what was wanted. I said I must see General Hooker, that I had important information for him. He said, 'You cannot see General Hooker; I am chief of staff; any information you have for the commanding general should be given to me.' I said, 'I must see General Hooker,' and with that pushed myself by him into the tent, and there lay General Hooker, apparently dead drunk. His face and position gave every indication of that condition, and I turned away sick and disgusted." It was subsequently stated that General Hooker was unconscious at that time from the concussion of a shell. That he was standing on the porch of the Chancellorsville House, leaning against one of its supports, when a shell struck it, rendering him unconscious. The incident narrated above occurred about one P.M. on Sunday, May 3. The army was practically without a commander from this time until after sundown of that day, when General Hooker reappeared and in a most conspicuous manner rode around between the lines of the two armies. If he was physically disabled, why was not the fact made known at once to the next officer in rank, whose duty it would have been to have assumed command of the army, and if possible stem the tide of defeat now rapidly overwhelming us? A half-day of most precious time would have been saved. That this was not done I happen to know from the following circumstances.

In our new position we were only about fifty yards behind General Hancock's line. The head-quarters at this time of General Couch, commanding our corps; of General French, commanding our division, and of General Hancock were all at the right of our regiment, behind our line. These generals and their staffs were resting, as were our troops, and they were sitting about, only a few feet away from us. We therefore heard much of their conversation. Directly General Howard joined them. I well remember his remarks concerning the behavior of his corps on the previous afternoon. His chagrin was punctured with the advice of old French to shoot a few dozen of them for example's sake. Naturally, the chief subject of their conversation related to the present situation. It was perfectly clear they regarded it as very critical. We could hear heavy cannonading in the distance towards Fredericksburg. Several times Hancock broke out with a savage oath as he impatiently paced up and down, swinging his sword. "They are knocking Sedgwick to pieces. Why don't we go forward?" or a similar ejaculation, and then, "General Couch, why do you not assume command and order us forward? It is your duty." (The latter was next in rank to Hooker.)

To which General Couch replied, "I cannot assume command." French and Howard agreed with Hancock, but Couch remained imperturbable, saying, "When I am properly informed that General Hooker is disabled and not in command, I shall assume the duty which will devolve upon me." And so hour after hour passed of inactivity at this most critical juncture. They said it was plain Lee was making simply a show of force in our front whilst he had detached a large part of his army and was driving Sedgwick before him down at Fredericksburg. Now, why this period of inactivity whilst Sedgwick was being punished? Why this interregnum in the command? When Colonel Albright returned from his call at Hooker's tent, narrated above, he freely expressed his opinion that Hooker's condition was as stated above. His views were then generally believed by those about head-quarters, and this was understood as the reason why the next officer in rank was not officially notified of his chief's disability and the responsibility of the command placed upon him. Nothing was then said about the concussion of a shell. It is profoundly to be hoped that Colonel Albright's impression was wrong, and that the disability was produced, as alleged, by concussion of a shell. If so, there was a very grave dereliction of duty on the part of his chief of staff in not imparting the fact immediately to General Couch, the officer next in rank, and devolving the command upon him.

In our new position on the afternoon of Sunday, the third day's battle, we were subjected to a continuous fire of skirmishers and sharpshooters, without the ability of replying. We laid up logs for a barricade and protected ourselves as well as we could. Several were wounded during the afternoon, among them Captain Hall, of Company I. His was a most singular wound. We were all lying prone upon the ground, when suddenly he spoke rather sharply and said he had got a clip on his knee. He said it was an insignificant flesh wound, but his leg was benumbed. He tried to step on it, but could not bear his weight on it, and very soon it became exceedingly painful, and his ankle swelled to double its natural size. He was taken back to one of the hospitals, where it was found a minie-ball had entered his leg above the knee and passed down between the bones to the ankle, where it was removed. This practically ended the service of one of the youngest of our captains, a brave and brilliant young officer.

Towards night a cold, drizzling rain set in, which chilled us to our bones. We could not have any fires, not even to make our coffee, for fear of disclosing our position to the enemy. For four days now we had been continuously under the terrible nervous strain incident to a battle and practically without any rest or sleep. During this time we had no cooked food, nothing but hardtack and raw pork and coffee but once. This condition began to tell upon us all. I had been under the weather when the movement began, and was ordered by our surgeon to remain behind, but I said no, not as long as I could get around. Now I found my strength had reached its limit, and I took that officer's advice, with the colonel's orders, and went back to the division field hospital to get under cover from the rain and get a night's sleep if possible.

I found a half-dozen hospital tents standing together as one hospital, and all full to overflowing with sick and wounded men. Our brigade surgeon, a personal friend, was in charge. He finally found a place for me just under the edge of one of the tents, where I could keep part of the rain off. He brought me a stiff dose of whiskey and quinine, the universal war remedy, and I drank it and lay down, and was asleep in less time than it takes me to write it.

About midnight the surgeon came and aroused me with the information that the army was moving back across the river, and that all in the hospital who could march were ordered to make their way back as best they could; that of the others the ambulances would carry all they could and the others would be left. This was astounding information. My first impulse was, of course, to return to my regiment, but the doctor negatived that emphatically by saying, "You are under my orders here, and my instructions are to send you all directly back to the ford and across the river; and then the army is already on the march, and you might as well attempt to find a needle in a haystack as undertake to find your regiment in these woods in this darkness." If his first reason had not been sufficient, the latter one was quite convincing. I realized at once the utter madness of any attempt to reach the regiment, at the same time that in this night tramp back over the river, some eight miles, I had a job that would tax my strength to the utmost. The doctor had found one of the men of our regiment who was sick, and bidding us help each other started us back over the old plank-road.

How shall I describe the experiences of that night's tramp? The night was intensely dark and it was raining hard. The plank-road was such only in name. What few remnants remained of the old planks were rotten and were a constant menace to our footing. I must have had more than a dozen falls during that march from those broken planks, until face, arms, and legs were a mass of bruises. We were told to push forward as rapidly as we could to keep ahead of the great rabble of sick and wounded which was to follow immediately. This we tried to do, though the road was now crowded with the occupants of the other hospitals already on their way. These men were all either sick or wounded, and were making their way with the greatest difficulty, most of them in silence, but there was an occasional one whose tongue gave expression to every possible mishap in outbursts of the most shocking profanity. There were enough of these to make the night hideous.

Our road was a track just wide enough to admit a single wagon through the densest jungle of timber and undergrowth I ever saw. I cannot imagine the famed jungles of Africa more dense or impenetrable, and it seemed to be without end as we wearily plodded on hour after hour, now stepping into a hole and sprawling in the mud, again stumbling against a stolid neighbor and being in turn jostled by him, with an oath for being in his way. Many a poor fellow fell, too exhausted to rise, and we were too nearly dead to do more than mechanically note the fact.

Towards morning a quartette of men overtook us carrying a man on their shoulders. As they drew near us one of the forward pair stumbled and fell, and down came the body into the mud with a swash. If the body was not dead, the fall killed it, for it neither moved nor uttered a sound. With a fearful objurgation they went on and left it, and we did not have life enough left in us to make any investigation. It was like the case of a man on the verge of drowning seeing others perishing without the ability to help. It was a serious question whether we could pull ourselves through or should be obliged to drop in our tracks, to be run over and crushed or trampled to death, as many a poor fellow was that night. We had not an ounce of strength, nor had any of the hundreds of others in our condition, to bestow on those who could not longer care for themselves. Here it was every man for himself. This night's experience was a horrible nightmare.

It was long after daylight when we crawled out of those woods and reached United States ford. Here a pontoon bridge had been thrown over, and a double column of troops and a battery of artillery were crossing at the same time. We pushed ourselves into the throng, as to which there was no semblance of order, and were soon on the other side. On the top of the bluff, some one hundred feet above the river, on our side, we noticed a hospital tent, and we thought if we could reach that we might find shelter and rest, for it was still raining and we were drenched to the skin, and so cold that our faces were blue and our teeth chattered. A last effort landed us at this hospital. Alas for our hopes! it was crowded like sardines in a box with others who in like condition had reached it before us. I stuck my head in the tent. One glance was enough. The surgeon in charge, in answer to our mute appeal, said, "God help you, boys; I cannot. But here is a bottle of whiskey, take a good drink; it will do you good." We took a corking dose, nearly half the bottle, and lay down, spoon fashion, my comrade and I, by the side of that tent in the rain and slept for about an hour, until the stimulus of the liquor passed off and the cold began again to assert itself, when we had to start on again. I have never had any use for liquors in my life, and the use of them in any form as a beverage I consider as nothing else than harmful in the highest degree, yet I have always felt that this big dose of whiskey saved my life. Could we have had a good cup of hot coffee at that time it would possibly have been better, but we might as well have looked for lodgings in the Waldorf-Astoria as for coffee at that time and place. Imagine my feelings during all this night as I reflected that I had a good horse, overcoat, and gum blanket somewhere,--yes, somewhere, back, or wherever my regiment might be,--and here I was soaking wet, chilled to the bones and almost dead from tramping.

We got word at the Ford that the troops were to go back to their old camps, and there was nothing for us to do but to make our way back there as best we might. Soon after we started Colonel (afterwards Judge Dana, of Wilkes-Barre) Dana's regiment passed. The colonel hailed me and kindly inquired why I happened to be there by myself on foot, said I looked most wretched, and insisted on my taking another bracer from a little emergency stock he had preserved. I had been but a few months out of his law office, from which I had been admitted to the bar. His kindly attentions under these limited circumstances were very cheering and helpful. We were all day covering the eight or more miles back to camp. But early in the day the rain ceased, the sun came out, we got warmed up marching, and after some hours our clothes became sufficiently dry to be more comfortable, so that when we reached camp in the evening our condition was much improved. This was due in part probably as much to the relief from the awful nervous strain of the battle and the conditions through which we had passed in that wilderness as to rest and the changed weather. When we reached this side of the river that nervous strain ceased. We were sure that fighting was over, at least for the present. We found the regiment had been in camp some hours ahead of us. Our corps was probably on the march when we left the hospital, and had preceded us all the way back. I found my horse had brought back one of our wounded men, and this was some compensation for my own loss.

We had been gone on this campaign from the 29th of April until the 5th of May, and such a week! How much that was horrible had been crowded into it. For variety of experiences of the many dreadful sides of war, that week far exceeded any other like period of our service. The fighting was boy's play compared with either Antietam or Fredericksburg, yet for ninety-six hours continuously we were under the terrible nervous strain of battle. Our losses in this action were comparatively light, 2 men killed, 2 officers wounded (one of whom died a few days later), and 39 men wounded, and one man missing; total loss, 44, or about fifteen per cent. of the number we took into action. This missing man I met at the recent reunion of our regiment. He was picked up from our skirmish line by that flanking party of rebels on the third day's fight described in my last. The circumstance will show how close the rebels were upon us before we discovered them. Our skirmishers could not have been more than a dozen yards in advance of our main line, yet the thicket was so dense that the enemy was on him before he fairly realized it. He said he was placed with a lot of other prisoners and marched to the rear some distance, under guard, when a fine-looking Confederate officer rode up to them. He was told it was General Lee. He said he wore long, bushy whiskers and addressed them with a cheery,--

"Good-morning, boys. What did you come down here for? a picnic? You didn't think you could whip us men of the South, did you?"

One of the prisoners spoke up in reply,--

"Yes, d----n you, we did, and we will. You haven't won this fight yet, and Joe Hooker will lick h----l out of you and recapture us before you get us out of these woods."

The general laughed good-naturedly at the banter his questions had elicited, and solemnly assured them that there were not men enough in the whole North to take Richmond. Our man was probably misinformed as to who their interlocutor was. General Lee did not wear long, bushy whiskers, and was at that time probably down directing operations against Fredericksburg. This was probably Jeb Stuart, who had succeeded Jackson in command of that wing of the rebel army.

Our prisoner fared much better than most prisoners, for it was his good fortune to be exchanged after twenty-three days' durance, probably owing to the expiration of his term of service. Although the actual dates of enlistment of our men were all in July and their terms therefore expired, the government insisted upon holding us for the full period of nine months from the date of actual muster into the United States service, which would not be completed until the 14th of May. We had, therefore, eight days' service remaining after our return from the battle of Chancellorsville, and we were continued in all duties just as though we had months yet to serve. Our principal work was the old routine of picket duty again. Our friends, the enemy, were now quick to tantalize our pickets with the defeat at Chancellorsville. Such remarks as these were volleyed at us:

"We 'uns give you 'uns a right smart lickin' up in them woods."

"How d'ye like Virginny woods, Yank?"

And then they sang to us:

"Ain't ye mighty glad to get out the wilderness?"

A song just then much in vogue. Another volunteered the remark, as if to equalize the honors in some measure, "If we did wallop you 'uns, you 'uns killed our best general." "We feel mighty bad about Stonewall's death," and so their tongues would run on, whether our men replied or not.