Part 4 (2/2)
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS
Nineteen miles from Orange Court House, Virginia, the road running northeast into Culpeper crosses ”Morton's Ford” of the Rapidan River, which, just now, lay between the Federal ”Army of the Potomac” and the Confederate ”Army of Northern Virginia.”
As this road approaches within three-fourths of a mile of the river it rises over a sharp hill, and, thence, winds its way down the hill to the Ford. On the ridge, just where the road crosses it, the guns of the ”First Richmond Howitzers” were in position, commanding the Ford; and the Howitzer Camp was to the right of the road, in the pine wood just back of the ridge. Here, we had been on picket all the winter, helping the infantry pickets to watch the enemy and guard the Ford.
One bright sunny morning, the 2d of May, 1864, a courier rode into the Howitzer Camp. We had been expecting him, and knew at once that ”something was up.” The soldier instinct and long experience told us that it was about time for something to turn up. The long winter had worn away; the sun and winds, of March and April, had made the roads firm again. Just across the river lay the great army, which was only waiting for this, to make another desperate push for Richmond, and we were there for the particular purpose of making that push vain.
For some days we had seen great volumes of smoke rising, in various directions, across the river, and heard bands playing, and frequent volleys of firearms, over in the Federal Camp. Everybody knew what all this meant, so we had been looking for that courier.
Soon after we reached the Captain's tent, orders were given to pack up whatever we could not carry on the campaign, and in two hours, a wagon would leave, to take all this stuff to Orange Court House; thence it would be taken to Richmond and kept for us, until next winter.
This was quickly done! The packing was not done in ”Saratoga trunks,”
nor were the things piles of furs and winter luxuries. The ”things”
consisted of whatever, above absolute necessaries, had been acc.u.mulated in winter quarters; a fiddle, a chessboard, a set of quoits, an extra blanket, or s.h.i.+rt, or pair of shoes, that any favored child of Fortune had been able to get hold of during the winter. Everything like this must go. It did not take long to roll all the ”extras” into bundles, strap them up and pitch them into the wagon. And in less than two hours after the order was given the wagon was gone, and the men left in campaign ”trim.”
This meant that each man had, left, one blanket, one small haversack, one change of underclothes, a canteen, cup and plate, of tin, a knife and fork, and the clothes in which he stood. When ready to march, the blanket, rolled lengthwise, the ends brought together and strapped, hung from left shoulder across under right arm, the haversack,--furnished with towel, soap, comb, knife and fork in various pockets, a change of underclothes in one main division, and whatever rations we happened to have, in the other,--hung on the left hip; the canteen, cup and plate, tied together, hung on the right; toothbrush, ”at will,” stuck in two b.u.t.ton holes of jacket, or in haversack; tobacco bag hung to a breast b.u.t.ton, pipe in pocket. In this rig,--into which a fellow could get in just two minutes from a state of rest,--the Confederate Soldier considered himself all right, and ready for anything; in this he marched, and in this he fought. Like the terrapin--”all he had he carried on his back”--this _all_ weighed about seven or eight pounds.
The extra baggage gone, all of us knew that the end of our stay here was very near, and we were all ready to pick up and go; we were on the eve of battle and everybody was on the ”qui vive” for decisive orders. They quickly came!
=”Ma.r.s.e Robert” Calls to Arms=
On the next day but one, the 4th, about 10 o'clock, another courier galloped into camp, and, in a few moments, everybody having seen him, all the men had swarmed up to the Captain's tent to hear the first news.
Captain McCarthy came toward us and said, very quietly, ”Boys, get ready! we leave here in two hours.” Then the courier told us that ”Grant was crossing below us in the wilderness. That everything we had was pus.h.i.+ng down to meet him; and that Longstreet, lately back from Tennessee, was at Gordonsville.” The news telling was here interrupted by Crouch sounding the familiar bugle call--”Boots and saddles,” which, to artillery ears, said, ”Harness up, hitch up and prepare to move at a moment's warning.”
The fellows instantly scattered, every man to his quarters, and for a few minutes nothing could be seen but the getting down and rolling up of ”flys” from over the log pens they had covered, rolling up blankets, getting together of each man's traps where he could put his hands on them. The drivers took their teams up on the hill to bring down the guns from their positions. All was quickly ready, and then we waited for orders to move.
It was with a feeling of sadness we thought of leaving this spot! It had been our home for several months; it was painful to see it dismantled, and to think that the place, every part of which had some pleasant a.s.sociation with it, would be left silent and lonely, and that we should see it no more.
While we waited, after each had bidden a sad ”good-bye” to his house, and its endeared surroundings, it was suggested that we gather once more, for a last meeting in our log church. All felt that this was a fitting farewell to the place. To many of us this little log church was a sacred place, many a hearty prayer meeting had been held there; many a rousing hymn, that almost raised the roof, many a good sermon and many a stirring talk had we heard; many a manly confession had been declared, many a hearty, impressive service in the solemn Litany of the Church, read by us, young Churchmen, in turn. To all the Christians of the Battery (they now numbered a large majority) this church was sacred. To some, it was very, very sacred, for in it they had been born again unto G.o.d. Here they had been led to find Christ, and in the a.s.semblies of their comrades gathered here, they had, one after another, stood up and, simply, bravely, and clearly, witnessed a ”good confession” of their Lord, and of their faith.
So, we all instantly seized on the motion, to gather in the church. A hymn was sung, a prayer offered for G.o.d's protection in the perils we well knew, we were about to meet. That He would help us to be brave men, and faithful unto death, as Southern soldiers; that He would give victory to our arms, and peace to our Country. A Scripture pa.s.sage, the 91st Psalm, declaring G.o.d's defense of those who trust Him, was read.
And then, our ”talk meeting.” It was resolved that ”during the coming campaign, every evening, about sunset, whenever it was at all possible, we would keep up our custom, and such of us as could get together, _wherever we might be_, should gather for prayer.”
And, in pa.s.sing, I may remark, as a notable fact, that this resolution was carried out _almost literally_. Sometimes, a few of the fellows would gather in prayer, while the rest of us fought the guns. Several times, to my _very lively_ recollection we met _under fire_. Once, I remember, a sh.e.l.l burst right by us, and covered us with dust; and, once, I recall with _very particular_ distinctness, a Minie bullet slapped into a hickory sapling, against which I was sitting, not an inch above my head. Scripture was being read at the time, and the fellows were sitting around with their eyes open. I had to _look_ as if I had as lieve be there, as anywhere else; but I _hadn't_, by a large majority. I _could_ not dodge, as I was sitting down, but felt like drawing in my back-bone until it telescoped.
But, however circ.u.mstanced, in battle, on the battle line, in interims of quiet, or otherwise, we held that prayer hour nearly every day, at sunset, during the entire campaign. And some of us thought, and _think_ that the strange exemption our Battery experienced, our little loss, in the midst of unnumbered perils, and incessant service, during that awful campaign, was, that, in answer to our prayers, ”the G.o.d of battles covered our heads in the day of battle” and was merciful to us, because we ”called upon Him.” If any think this a ”fond fancy” _we don't_.
Well! to get back! After another hymn, and a closing prayer, we all shook hands, and then, we took a regretful leave of our dear little Church, and wended our way, quiet and thoughtful, to the road where we found the guns standing, all ready to go. Pretty soon the command--”Forward!” rang from the head of the line. We fell in alongside our respective guns, and with a ringing cheer of hearty farewell to the old Camp, we briskly took the road,--to meet, and to do, what was before us.
We tramped along cheerily until about dark, when we bivouacked on the side of the road, with orders to start at daylight next morning. As we pushed along the road,--what road! gracious only knows, but a country road bearing south toward Verdiersville,--brigades, and batteries joined our march, from other country roads, by which we found that all our people were rapidly pus.h.i.+ng in from the camps and positions they had occupied during the winter, and the army was swiftly concentrating.
It was very pleasant to us to get into the stir of the moving army again, as we had been off, quite by ourselves, during the winter, and the greetings and recognitions that flew back and forth as we pa.s.sed, or were pa.s.sed by, well known brigades or batteries, were hearty and vociferous. Such jokes and ”chaffing” as went on! As usual, every fellow had his remark upon everything and everybody he pa.s.sed. Any peculiarity of dress or appearance marked out a certain victim to the witty gibes of the men, which had to be escaped from, or the victim had to ”grin and bear it.” If ”Puck” or ”Punch” could have marched with a Confederate column once, they might have laid in a stock of jokes and witticisms,--and first-cla.s.s ones, too,--for use the rest of their lives.
Next morning, at daylight,--the 5th of May,--we promptly pulled out, and soon struck the highway, leading from Orange Court House to Fredericksburg, turned to the left and went sweeping on toward ”The Wilderness.”
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