Part 5 (1/2)
=The Spirit of the Soldiers of the South=
Here we got into the full tide of movement. Before and behind us the long gray columns were hurrying on to battle,--and as merry as crickets.
One thing that shone conspicuous here, and always, was the indomitable _spirit_ of the ”Army of Northern Virginia,” their intelligence about military movements; their absolute confidence in General Lee, and their quiet, matter of course, _certainty of victory_, under him. Here they were pus.h.i.+ng right to certain battle, the dust in clouds, the sun blazing down, hardly anything to eat, and yet, with their arms and uniform away, a spectator might have taken them for a lot of ”sand-boys on a picnic,” _if_ there had only been some eatables along, to give color to this delusion.
And their intelligence! These men were not parts of a great machine moving blindly to their work. Very far from it! Stand on the roadside, as they marched by and hear their talk, the expression of their opinions about what was going on, you soon found that these men, privates, as well as officers, were well aware of what they were doing, and where they were going. In a general way, they knew what was going on, and what was _going to go on_, with the strangest accuracy. By some quick, and wide diffusion of intelligence among the men, they understood affairs, and the general situation perfectly well. For instance, as we pa.s.sed on down that road to the fight, we knew,--just _how_ we didn't know,--but we _did know_, and it was commonly talked of and discussed, as ascertained fact, among us as we marched,--that General Grant had about 150,000 men moving on us. We knew that Longstreet was near Gordonsville, and that one Division of A. P. Hill had not come up. We knew that we had, along with us there, only Ewell's Corps and two divisions of A. P.
Hill's Corps, the cavalry and some of Longstreet's artillery. In short, as I well remember, it was a fact, accepted among us, that General Lee was pus.h.i.+ng, as hard as he could go, for Grant's 150,000 with about 35,000 men; and yet, knowing all this, these lunatics were sweeping along to that appallingly unequal fight, cracking jokes, laughing, and with not the least idea in the world of anything else but victory. I did not hear a despondent word, nor see a dejected face among the thousands I saw and heard that day. I bear witness to this fact, which I wondered at then, and wonder at now. It is one of the most stirring and touching of my memories of the war. It was the grandest moral exhibition I ever saw! For it was simply the absolute confidence in themselves and in their adored leader. They had seen ”Ma.r.s.e Robert” ride down that road, they knew he was at the front, and that was all they _cared_ to know. The thing was _bound_ to go right--”Wasn't Lee there?” And the devil himself couldn't keep them from going where Lee went, or where he wanted them to go. G.o.d bless them, living, or dead, for their loyal faith, and their heroic devotion!
=Peace Fare and Fighting Rations!=
I have alluded to rations; they were scarce here, as always when any fighting was on hand. Even in camp, where all was at its best, we had for rations, per day, one and a half pints of flour, or coa.r.s.e cornmeal,--ground with the _cob_ in it we used to think,--and one-quarter of a pound of bacon, or ”mess pork,” or a pound, far more often half a pound, of beef.
But, in time of a fight! Ah then, thin was the fare! That small ration dwindled until, at times, eating was likely to become a ”lost art.” I have seen a man, Bill Lewis, sit down and eat three days' rations at one time. He said ”He did not want the trouble of carrying it, _and_ he did want _one_ meal occasionally that wasn't an empty form.” The idea seemed to be that a Confederate soldier would _fight_ exactly in proportion as he _didn't eat_. And his _business_ was to _fight_. This theory was put into practice on a very close and accurate calculation; with the odds that, as a rule, we had against us, in the battles of the Army of Northern Virginia, we had to meet two or three to one. Then, each Confederate soldier was called upon to be equal to two or three Federal soldiers, and, therefore, each Confederate must have but _one-half_ or _one-third_ the rations of a Federal soldier. It was easy figuring, and so it was arranged in practice.
It was eminently so in this campaign, from the first. When we left camp, on the 4th a few crackers and small piece of meat were given us, and devoured at once. That evening, and on this day, the 5th, we received _none at all_, and in that hard, forced march we became very hungry. An incident that occurred will show how hungry we were. As we pa.s.sed the hamlet of Verdiersville, I noticed a little negro boy, black as the ”ace of spades” and dirty as a pig, standing on the side of the road gazing with staring eyes at the troops, and holding in his hand a piece of ash-cake, which he was eating. A moment after I pa.s.sed him, our dear old comrade and messmate, Dr. Carter, the cleanest and most particular man in the army, came running after us (Carter Page, John Page, George Harrison, and myself) with gleeful cries, ”Here, fellows, I've got something. It isn't much, but it will give us a bite apiece. Here! look at this, a piece of bread! let me give you some.”
As he came up he held in his hand the identical piece of bread I had seen the little darkey munching on. It was a small, wet, half-raw fragment of corn ash-cake, and it had moulded on one edge a complete cast of that little n.i.g.g.e.r's mouth, the perfect print of every tooth.
The Doctor had bought it from him for fifty cents, and now, wanted to divide it with us four--a rather heroic thought that was, in a man hungry as a wolf. Of course we young fellows flatly refused to divide it, as we knew the Doctor, twice our age, needed it more than we. We said, ”We were not hungry; couldn't eat anything to save us.” A lie, that I hope the recording Angel, considering the motive, didn't take down; or, if he did, I hope he added a note explaining the circ.u.mstances.
We then began to joke the Doctor about the print of the little darkey's teeth on his bread and suggested to him, to break off that part. ”No, indeed,” said the Doctor, gloating over his precious ash-cake, ”Bread's too scarce, _I_ don't mind about the little n.i.g.g.e.r's teeth, I can't spare a crumb.” And when he found he could not force us to take any, he ate it all up.
Indifference to the tooth prints was a perfectly reasonable sentiment, under the circ.u.mstances, and one in which we all would have shared, for we were wolfish enough to have eaten the ”little n.i.g.g.e.r” himself. The Doctor didn't mind the little chap's tooth marks _then_ but--he did _afterwards_. After he had been pacified with a square meal, the idea wasn't so pleasant, and though we often recalled the incident, afterwards, the Doctor could not remember _this part of it_. He remembered the piece of ash-cake, but, somehow, he could not be brought to recall the tooth marks in it. Not he!
It was about eleven o'clock when we pa.s.sed Verdiersville. Soon after, we turned down a road, which led over to the plank road on which A. P.
Hill's column was moving. Hour after hour all the morning, reports had come flying back along the columns, that our people, at the front, had seen nothing but Federal Cavalry; hadn't been able to unearth any infantry at all. An impression began to get about that maybe after all, there had been a mistake, and that Grant's army was not in front of us.
About this time, that impression was suddenly and entirely dispelled. A distinct rattle of musketry broke sharply on our ears, and we knew, at once, that we had found _something_, and, in fact, it was soon clear that we had found Federal infantry, enough and to spare.
That sudden outbreak of musketry quickened every pulse, and every step too, in our columns. Harder than ever we pushed ahead, and as we advanced, the firing grew louder, and the volume heavier till it was a long roar. The long-roll beat in our marching columns, and some of the infantry brigades broke into the double quick to the front, and we could see them heading off, right and left into the woods.
=Ma.r.s.e Robert's Way of Making One Equal to Three=
We had now come to the edge of that forest and thicket-covered district, the ”Wilderness of Spottsylvania.”
Grant had crossed the Rapidan into this tangled chaparral, and it is said he was very much surprised that Lee did not dispute the pa.s.sage of the river. But ”Ole Ma.r.s.e Robert” had cut too many eye teeth to do anything like that. He was far too deep a file, to stop his enemy from getting himself into ”a fix.” He knew that when Grant's great army got over there, they would be ”entangled in the land, the wilderness would shut them in.”
In that wilderness, three men were not three times as many as one man.
No! no! not at all! Quite the reverse! Lee wouldn't lift a finger to keep Grant from getting _into_ the wilderness, but quick as a flash he was, to keep him from getting out. This, was why he had been marching the legs off of us, rations or no rations. This, was why he couldn't wait for Longstreet, but tore off with the men he had, to meet Grant and fight him, before he could disentangle himself from The Wilderness. We had got up in time; and into the chaparral our men plunged to get at the enemy, and out of it was now roaring back over our swift columns the musketry of the advance. As brigade after brigade dashed into line of battle the roar swelled out grander, and more majestic, until it became a mighty roll of hoa.r.s.e thunder, which made the air quiver again, and seemed to shake the very ground. The battle of The Wilderness was begun, in dead earnest.
The crus.h.i.+ng, pealing thunder kept up right along, almost unbroken, hour after hour, all through the long noon, and longer evening, until just before night, it slackened and died away. It was the most _solemn_ sound I ever heard, or ever expect to hear, on earth. I never heard anything like it in any other battle. Nothing could be seen, no movements of troops, in sight, to distract attention, or rivet one's interest on the varying fortunes of a battlefield. Only,--out of the dark woods, which covered all from sight, rolled upward heavy clouds of battle-smoke, and outward, that earth shaking thunder, now and then fiercely sharpened by the ”rebel yell,”--the scariest sound that ever split a human ear,--as our men sprang to the death grapple.
We had pushed up along with the rest; but by and by our guns were ordered to halt, to let the infantry go by. Here, while we waited for them to pa.s.s, we saw the first effects of the fight. Just off the road there was a small open field containing a little farmhouse and garden and apple orchard, where the cavalry had been at work, that morning before we came up. Around the house and in the orchard lay ten dead Federal troops, three of our men, and a number of horses; all lying as they had fallen. One of the Federals was lying with one leg under his horse, and the other over him; both had, apparently, been instantly killed by the same ball, which had gone clear through the heads of both man and horse. They had fallen together, the man hardly moved from his natural position in the saddle. Another had a sword thrust through his body, and two others, in their terribly gashed heads, gave evidence that they had gone down under the sabre. The rest of them, and all three of our men, had been killed by b.a.l.l.s. Not a living thing was seen about the place.
We were called away from this ghastly scene by the guns starting again, and we moved on rapidly to the front. As we went, at a trot, one of the men, John Williams, who was sick with the heat and exhaustion of the trying march, and was sitting on the trail of the gun, suddenly fainted, and fell forward under the wheel. He was, fortunately, saved from instant death by a stone, just in front of which he fell. The ponderous wheel, going so rapidly, struck the stone, and was bounded over his body, only bruising him a little. It was a close shave, but we were spared the loss of a dear comrade, and good soldier.
=An Infantry Battle=
When we got up pretty close to the line of battle, we halted and then were ordered to pull out beside the road and wait for orders. Here we found a great many batteries parked, and we heard that it was, as yet, impossible to get artillery into action where the infantry was fighting.
In fact, the battle of The Wilderness was almost exclusively an _Infantry_ fight. But few cannon shots were heard at all during the day; the guns could not be gotten through the thickets. We heard, at the time, that we had only been able to put in two guns, and the Federals, three, and that our people had taken two of them, and the other was withdrawn. Certainly we hardly heard a single shot during most of the fight. But we didn't know at the time the exemption we were to enjoy. It was a strange and unwonted sight, all those guns, around us, idle, with a battle going on. For the way General Lee fought his artillery was a caution to cannoneers. He always put them in, everywhere, and made the fullest use of them. We always expected, and we always got, our full share of any fighting that was going on. And to be idle here, while the musketry was rolling, was entirely a novel sensation. We were under a dropping fire, and we expected to go in every moment. A position which every old soldier will recognize as more trying than being in the thick of a fight. It was very far from soothing.
When we had been waiting here a few minutes, Dr. Newton, since the Rev.
John B. Newton of Monumental Church, Richmond, Va., afterwards Bishop Coadjutor of Virginia, but then the surgeon of the 40th Virginia Infantry, rode by our guns, and recognizing several of us, boys, his kinsmen, stopped to speak to us. After a few kind words, as he shook hands with us very warmly at parting, he pointed to his field hospital, hard by, and very blandly said, ”Boys, I'll be right here, and I will be glad to do anything for you in my line.” To fellows going, as we thought, right into battle, this was about the last kind of talk we wanted to hear. A doctor's offer of service in our situation, was full of ghastly suggestions. So his well-meaning proffer was met with opprobrious epithets, and indignant defiance. It was shouted to him in vigorous Anglo-Saxon, what we thought of doctors anyhow, and that if he didn't look sharp we'd fix him so he would need a doctor, himself, to patch him up. The Doctor rode off laughing at the storm his friendly remarks had raised. Never was a kind offer more ungraciously received. I suppose, however, if any of us had got hurt just then, we would have been glad enough to fall in with the Doctor, and to have his skillful care. Fact is, soldiers are very like citizens--set light by the doctor when _well_, but mighty glad to see him when anything is the matter.