The Sword and Gun 6

The Sword and Gun 6

And so the time wore on, till at length an order came "one fine

day" for all Sutlers to go to the base at City Point, for officers

and men to turn in all their superfluous winter clothing, and for

all arms and ammunition to be thoroughly inspected. The Army of the

Potomac was stripping for the fight. Again a few days and rumors,

undefined and indistinct at first, but gaining plausibility as time

passed on, began to circulate through our camps that "Sheridan had

come." And sure enough, one fine summer-like spring morning, three

or four wild, rough-looking individuals mounted on lean, but tough

wiry animals, rode into our camp, clothed in Confederate uniform,

and on being seized and questioned, declared themselves, not without

a certain pride in so doing, to be "scouts in the service of General

Sheridan." In confirmation, they pointed to a long line of dust, in

rear of our camp, where, with the aid of our field glasses, we could

dimly discern a large column of cavalry filing slowly along towards

the left, in full view of the enemy and within range of his guns,

proudly, defiantly, as if the mere fact of their being Sheridan's

men, were a safeguard in itself.

 

This looked like business, and we prepared ourselves accordingly,

remaining for the next three weeks in a continued state of excitement

and expectation. On one occasion we thought the fun had commenced,

a succession of loud cheers, or rather yells, accompanied by rapid

and continued firing from the picket line on our left, leading us to

suppose that Gen. Lee had opened the ball by taking the initiative

himself, and was about to try the strength of our position. We were

quickly under arms, and drawn up in line of battle, in the rear of

Fort Morton, ready to move, wherever fate and the commanding general

might choose to send us. Having waited there for an hour or two, and

the disturbance, which turned out to be nothing more than a mere

picket _emeute_, having gradually quieted down, we were permitted to

return in peace to our camp.

 

But more stirring scenes in the drama were at hand, time was rolling

along, and the 25th of March and 2d of April were approaching. The

rebellion, which the most sanguine of us never expected to end

before July, was even then tottering to its fall, and a few weeks

more were to see its final overthrow.

 

Ever since the nocturnal picket skirmish, I have mentioned above, the

general commanding the division had impressed on us the necessity of

exercising an extra amount of vigilance and caution; trench guards

were doubled, the constant supervision of the picket line and reports

as to the vigilance and efficiency of officers and men on duty

there, were rendered an imperative part of the duties of the brigade

officer of the day; brigade and regimental commanders exercised, in

most cases, a sleepless and cat-like supervision of everything that

occurred within the rebel lines, within their scope of observation;

the signal man on the Avery House waved his flags and lanterns,

frantically, day and night; our days were spent with field glasses

and telescopes stuck to our eyes as if they grew there, and our

night's rest was broken by orders sent round three or four times a

night exacting the observance of the greatest vigilance or demanding

information as to the movements of the enemy.

 

Our position became like that of "Sister Ann" in Bluebeard's tower

and the part of Fatima, was, as the play bills say, "ably sustained"

by our commanding generals, in their perpetual demands, as to whether

"We saw anybody coming?"

 

On the morning of the 25th of March we were aroused from such

restless sleep as we were in the habit of taking in those days, by

the sound of three shots fired in rapid succession from the rebel

lines, and quickly followed by a scattering fire of musketry. A very

few minutes sufficed for the donning of arms and accoutrements, and

in less time than it takes to read this page, we were under arms and

awaiting orders.

 

Meantime the batteries on either side had opened and were keeping up

a very lively interchange of missiles; close on our right the second

brigade was evidently warmly engaged, as a lively musketry fire,

enlivened once in a while with the report of a heavy gun, testified.

The morning was dull and cloudy and nothing had yet occurred to

enable us to form any conclusion as to what was on hand, but, after

a few minutes we were ordered down to the right of the brigade and

drawn up on the flank, at right angles to the main line of works, and

here we began to gather an inkling of the facts of the case.

 

Right in our front, on an eminence on the opposite side of a ravine,

on one side of which we lay snugly ensconced behind a light line

of works, was Fort Steadman, a large and very strong work built on

Hare Hill, the spot where we had encamped nearly a year ago, just

after the battle of the 18th of June. In and around this a fierce

fight was going on, and to the rear of it were to be seen flashes,

indicating that sharp skirmishing was going on in the direction of

Meade Station, The truth was at once apparent. Massing his forces

under cover of the night and taking advantage of the darkness of the

morning and the close proximity of our lines, the enemy had driven in

our picket line, surprised the garrison of the fort and captured it,

and was now pushing for the City Point Railroad, and, perhaps, City

Point itself, in fact _our lines were broken_.

 

By the time we had arrived at this conclusion, which was anything but

a pleasant one, the firing in our rear had increased considerably,

and daylight having at length fairly asserted its supremacy, we could

see the rebel troops falling rapidly back into Fort Steadman. It had

also become sufficiently light for our artillery to get the range

and open on the fort, which they were now doing with a will, making

their pieces speak with vigor and much to the purpose. This fact

the rebels seemed fully to appreciate and regulated the duration of

their second visit to the fort to a merely _passing_ one, passing

right through and over the parapet on the other side, back to their

own lines as fast as possible. The cause of their retreat was soon

apparent. Just as they commenced leaving, the third division of the

9th corps, under Brevet Major General Hartranft, appeared coming up

over the edge of the ravine, advancing in line of battle in excellent

order, and with the General at their head leading the charge. On they

go, unbroken and unwavering, leaving here and there a man on the

field, but never stopping or faltering. The "Johnnies" don't like the

look of things, they evidently think they are in a tight place, "and

have waked up the wrong passenger." And so they take their leave,

_piling_ over the parapets and swarming back to their lines like bees

from a hive, leaving behind them hundreds of their dead and wounded,

ten battle flags and any quantity of arms and accoutrements. A great

number prefer taking their chances of a Union prison to facing Union

bullets, and throwing away their arms, sneak in under cover of our

breastworks and surrender themselves as prisoners of war. Meanwhile

the 3d division has occupied Fort Steadman, the firing has ceased and

the 37th goes home to breakfast, having for the first and only time

been disengaged spectators of a battle.

 

The regiment suffered no loss in this affair, as although exposed

to some shelling, it was not directly engaged with any portion of

the enemy's forces, remaining on the field solely for the purpose of

covering the right flank and rear of the 1st brigade.

 

The next week was passed in an uneasy, ominous state of comparative

quiet, the lull that always precedes a storm of any kind whatever,

broken by occasional rumors and reports, and sundry turnings out at

unseasonable hours of the day and night. At length, on the evening of

Saturday, the 1st of April, our chief, suspecting that Lee was about

to evacuate, directed our batteries to feel the enemy's line, so as

to find out, if possible, whether he had withdrawn his artillery or

not. About half past ten the performance commenced, and the 37th was

ordered to fall in, as usual, and move down to the support of our

picket line.

 

Shortly after we had moved out of camp, the enemy began replying with

his mortars, showing that these, at least, had not been removed,

and, from their fire, one of our men was wounded as we marched down

the new covered way leading to our picket line. We soon got into

position in a deep valley or ravine, just in the rear of our picket

line, and there, for about three hours, were witnesses of one of

the most sublime and terrific spectacles of the war. Every gun and

every mortar along the whole length of the two opposing lines was,

by this time, fairly in action, and the various missiles, plainly to

be traced in their course through the air, by the train of sparks

from the burning fuse, were crossing one another at every angle and

in every direction. Watching this grand pyrotechnic display from

a secure and tolerably comfortable position, time passed rapidly

enough, till about half past twelve, on the morning of Sunday,

the 2d of April, when, the firing having gradually died away, we

were ordered to march out by the left flank and report at Brigade

Headquarters.

 

Arriving here, we were quickly joined by the 8th and 27th Michigan,

38th Wisconsin, and 109th New York, the 51st Pennsylvania, with a

company from each of the other regiments, being left to take care of

the picket line on our brigade front. After a short delay, we moved

rapidly off towards the left, and about an hour before daylight were

formed in line of battle in Fort Sedgwick, or, as it is better known,

"Fort Hell," the business that brought us there being to support

a charge that our 3d Division was about to make on Fort Mahone,

otherwise known as "Fort Damnation."

 

These works bore the reputation of being the strongest and most

formidable on the two lines, and it was with rather dubious feelings

that we waited for the signal to advance, and the words of Brutus:

 

--"Oh that a man might know

The end of this day's business, e're it come!

But it sufficeth, that the day will end,

And the end is known."

 

occurred to many of us, probably more than once, through the course

of the eventful day that was just beginning to dawn. At last the

order is given, and silently and rapidly, just as the first grey

streaks of dawn begin to shine in the east, we see the dusky forms

file out past us into the open field beyond the fort. Then our turn

comes next, and away we go with orders to keep as far to the left as

we can get. On we go, grape, canister and case shot whistling round

us in every direction, over a cornfield with the dried stalks still

standing--over our picket line--across a small marshy run--"this must

be the rebel picket line!" "hullo, there's a dead Johnny!" and in

another minute we have retaliated on the rebels for their attack of

the 25th of March, and Fort Mahone and two or three hundred yards of

the rebel works are in possession of the 1st Brigade, 1st Division of

the 9th Army Corps.

 

At daylight, we discover that during the darkness and confusion, two

companies of our regiment have separated somewhat from the rest, and

are lying in Fort Mahone, while the remainder of the regiment lie a

little to the right of that work. We hold our position all through

that day, while fighting is going on on each side of us, from the

Appomattox to the extreme left, and away round to the Five-forks,

where Wright and Sheridan are busy at work. But we have no time to

think of what is going on, on either side of us, events in our own

neighborhood demand all our attention. Several times, in the course

of the day, the rebels attempt to regain the fort, and as often we

send them back till the hillside in our front is thick with dead and dying.