=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 pushing 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 pushing, 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 crushing, 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.

The Doctor, and all his brother "saw-bones" soon had enough to do for other poor fellows, if not for us. Numbers of wounded men streamed past us, asking the way to the hospitals, some, limping painfully along, some, with arms in a sling, some, with blood streaming down over neck or face, some, helped along by a comrade, some, borne on stretchers. It was a battered looking procession; and yet, I suppose that people will be surprised to hear, it was as _cheerful_ a lot of fellows, as you can imagine. Wounded men coming from under fire are, as a rule, cheerful, often jolly. Being able to get, honorably, from under fire, with the mark of manly service to show, is enough to make a fellow cheerful, even with a hole through him. Of course I am speaking now of the wounded who can walk, and are not utterly disabled.

Eagerly we stopped those wounded men to ask how the fight was going.

Their invariable account was that it was all right. They spoke about what heavy columns the enemy was putting in, but they said we were pressing them back, and every one spoke of the dreadful carnage of the Federals. One fellow said, after he was shot in the advancing line, he had to come back over a place, over which there had been very stubborn fighting, and which our men had carried, like a hurricane at last, and as he expressed it, "Dead Yankees were _knee deep_ all over about four acres of ground." The blood was running down and dropping, very freely, off this man's arm, while he stood in the road and told us this.

These accounts of the wounded men from the line of battle put us in good heart, which was not lessened by a long line of Federal prisoners being marched to the rear, and the a.s.surance by one of the guard that there were "plenty more where these came from."

And so at last this long exciting day wore away. As dark fell the firing ceased. We got some wood and made fires, and, pretty soon after, "old Tom Armistead," our Commissary Sergeant, rode up. His appearance was hailed with delight, as the promise of something to eat. These transports were destined to be moderated when Tom told what he had to say. He had ridden on from the wagons, far in the rear, and all he could get was a few crackers, and a small bag of wet brown sugar. This he had brought with him, across his horse.

Each man got two crackers and one handful of sugar. This disappeared in a twinkling. And then we sat around the fires discussing the events of the day. One subject of general anxiety, I remember, was when Longstreet would be up. As well as things had gone this day, we all knew well, how much his Corps would be needed for tomorrow's work. It was generally regarded as certain that he would get up during the night, and we lay down to sleep around our guns confident that all was well for tomorrow.

Next morning we were up early. I don't remember that we had anything to eat, and as the getting anything to eat in those days made a deep impression on our minds, I infer that we didn't. However we got a _wash_, a small one. We did not always enjoy this refreshment; then had to be content with a "dry polish" such as Mr. Squeers recommended to Nicholas Nickelby at "Dotheboys Hall," when the pump froze. But on this occasion we had, with difficulty, secured one canteen of water between three of us, wherein we were better off than some of the others. The tin pan in which we luxuriated during winter quarters had been relegated to the wagon, both as inconvenient to carry, and as requiring too much water. It always took two to get a "campaign wash." One fellow poured a little water, out of the canteen, into his comrade's hands, with which he moistened his countenance, a little more poured over his soaped hands, and the deed was done. On this occasion when one canteen had to serve for three, and no more water was to be had, our ablutions were light; in fact, it was little more than a pantomime, in which we "went through the motions" of a wash. But we were afraid to leave the guns a minute, after daylight, for fear of a sudden movement to the front, so we had to do with what we had.

Soon after this, our cares about all these smaller matters suddenly fell out of sight. That fierce musketry broke out again along the lines, in the woods, in front. It increased in fury, especially on the right. Very soon reports began to float back that the Federals were heavily overlapping A. P. Hill's right, and things looked dangerous. Then it was rumored that some of Hill's right regiments were beginning to give way, under the resistless weight of the columns hurled upon him and round his flank. We could quickly perceive this to be true by the sound of the firing, which came nearer to us and pa.s.sed toward the left. This immediately threw our crowd into a fever of excitement; the idea of lying there, doing nothing, when our men were falling back, was intolerable. Every artillery man thought that if _his battery_ could only get in, it would be all right. We knew what a difference it would instantly make, if all these silent guns could be sweeping the columns of the enemy. We would soon stop them, we thought! We just ached for orders to come but they did not. Still the news came, "impossible to get artillery in;" and loud and deep were the angry complaints of some, and curses of others, and great the disgust of all at our forced inaction.

One fellow near me, voiced the feelings of us all--"If we can't get in there, or Longstreet don't get here pretty quick, the devil will be to pay."

=Arrival of the First Corps=

In the midst of this anxious and high wrought feeling, an excited voice yelled out, "Look out down the road. Here they come!" We were driven nearly wild with excited joy, and enthusiasm by the blessed sight of Longstreet's advance division coming down the road at a double quick, at which pace, after the news of Hill's critical situation reached them, they had come for two miles and a half. The instant the head of his column was seen the cries resounded on every side, "Here's Longstreet.

The old war horse is up at last. It's all right now."

On, the swift columns came! Crowding up to the road, on both sides, we yelled ourselves nearly dumb to cheer them as they swept by. Hearty were the greetings as we recognized acquaintances and friends and old battle comrades in the pa.s.sing columns. Specially did the "Howitzers" make the welkin ring when Barksdale's Mississippi Brigade pa.s.sed. This was the brigade to which our battery had long been attached, to which we were greatly devoted, with whom we had often fought, and admired as one of the most splendid fighting corps in the army. And loud was the cheer the gallant Mississippians flung back to the "Howitzers."

Everything broke loose as General Longstreet in person rode past. Like a fine lady at a party, Longstreet was often late in his arrival at the ball, but he always made a sensation and that of delight, when he _got_ in, with the grand old First Corps, sweeping behind him, as his train.

This was our own Corps, from which we had been separated for some months. The very sight of the gallant old veterans, as they poured on, was enough to make all hearts perfectly easy. Our feeling of relief was complete and as the Brigades disappeared into the woods in the direction of Hill's breaking right, where the thunder of their still heroic resistance to overwhelming odds was roaring, we all felt, "Thank G.o.d!

it's all right now! Longstreet is up!"

And it _was_ all right. The first brigades as they got up formed, and rushed right in, one after another, to check the advance of the enemy.

And as they successively went in we could hear the musketry grow more angry and fierce. Before very long, a crashing peal of musketry broke out with a fury that made what we had been hearing before seem like pop-crackers. Our crowd quickly perceived that the sound was receding from us; at the same time the bullets,--which had been falling over among us entirely too lively to be pleasant to fellows who were not shooting any themselves,--stopped coming. We knew what this meant; Longstreet was putting his Corps in, and they were driving the enemy.

Soon, to confirm our ideas, lines of Federal prisoners, from Hanc.o.c.k's Corps, they told us, came by, and Longstreet's wounded began to pa.s.s.

These fellows told us that our Corps had gone in like a whirlwind, had already recovered Hill's line, gone beyond it, and were forcing the Federals back.

They said Hanc.o.c.k's Corps was doubled up, and being torn to pieces and they thought we would "bag the whole business."

=The Love that Lee Inspired in the Men He Led=

All this was very nice and we were expressing our delight in the usual way. Just then, an officer rode up who told us a bit of news, that made us feel more like tears than cheers, and put every fellow's heart into his mouth. He said that just before, General Lee had come in an ace of being captured. A body of the enemy had pushed through a gap in our line and unexpectedly come right upon the old General, who was quietly sitting upon his horse. That, these fellows could with perfect ease have taken, or shot him, but that he had quietly ridden off, and the enemy not knowing who it was, made no special effort to molest him.

I wish you could have seen the appalled look that fell on the faces of the men, as they listened to this. Although the danger was past an hour ago, they were as pale and startled and shocked as if it were enacting then. The bare idea of anything happening to General Lee was enough to make a man sick, and I a.s.sure you it took all the starch out of us for a few minutes.

I don't know how it was, but somehow, it never occurred to us that anything _could_ happen to General Lee. Of course, we knew that he was often exposed, like the rest of us. We had seen him often enough under hot fire. And, by the way, I believe that the one only thing General Lee ever did, that the men in this army thought he _ought not to do_, was going under fire. We thought him perfect in motive, deed and judgment; he could do no wrong, could make no mistake, but this,--that he was too careless in the way he went about a battlefield. Three different times, during these very fights, at points of danger, he was urged to leave the spot, as it was "not the place for him." At last he said, "I wish I knew _where my place is_ on the battlefield; wherever I go some one tells me _that_ is not the place for me."

But, he would go! He wanted to see things for himself, and he wished his men to know, that he was looking after them, both seeing that they did their duty, and _caring_ for them. And certainly, the sight of his beloved face was like the sun to his men for cheer and encouragement.

Every man thought less of personal danger, and no man thought of _failure_ after he had seen General Lee riding along the lines. n.o.body will ever quite understand what that old man was to us, his soldiers!

What absolute confidence we felt in him! What love and devotion we had, what enthusiastic admiration, what filial affection, we cherished for him. We loved him like a father, and thought about him as a devout old Roman thought of the G.o.d of War. Anything happen to him! It would have _broken our hearts_, for one thing, and, we could no more think of the "Army of Northern Virginia" without General Lee, at its head, than we could picture the day without the sun shining in the heavens.