Colonel Lyons.
Fort Donelson, June 11th, 1863.—It has rained considerably lately. The river is rising. There are five boats here tonight. They go up the river tomorrow morning. I send a guard of three companies under command of Captain Randall with them to Clarksville. They will escort back the Paymaster, who is there. I send the Nevada to bring them down. We shall be glad to see the Paymaster.
Thursday, 11th—Came on picket.
June 11th. Orders received to prepare for three days’ scouting up the valley. A sharp lookout must be kept for the enemy through the valley and the mountain passes. Tonight we have three days’ rations all prepared for an early start on the morrow.
Thursday, 11th. In the morning issued beef and rations for 5 days. Pontoons gone to the river. Dr. Smith returned and reported John Devlin found in the morning, wounded in bowels and died at 3 P. M. yesterday. Chapman also died. Uncertain in regard to Case. Badly wounded, brave fellow. He told me to tell the Capt. that he fell at the head of his company. Rebs came in with flag of truce to care for wounded. Made fair bargain not to parole our men, if would let theirs alone. Evidently considered themselves whipped and we still near. Afterwards claimed a victory. Took a good nap. Saw C. G. in evening. Letter from home. A. B. much better.
(Port Hudson)
June 11. —We feel perfectly at home now in these woods. We were here some days, once in a while shifting our camp to avoid the shells; then came the episode of the march to Clinton and back. I do not mean to write much about this; for the readers and the inditer of these notes have had enough of hard marching. Let these few words suffice. A body of our cavalry had been attacked, and very roughly handled, in the neighborhood of this place of Clinton; and Gen. Paine was sent out with a force to catch and chastise this body, if possible.
The force, consisting of regiments detached from this and that brigade, with some artillery and a large body of cavalry, left camp in the forest here about four o’clock one morning. How hot and dusty it grew! We began by taking the wrong road, which gave us extra distance of five or six miles; then, in the end, we went by the longest route. The first day, at noon, the heat became perfectly intolerable. Several were nearly killed by its power, and we were forced to halt until night. Thenceforth we marched for the most part at night; but the dust was deep, the nights hot, and the water often poor. At length, at dawn one morning, we halted within two or three miles of Clinton, to hear from the cavalry in advance that the foe had fled. Back we came, therefore, dragging wearily into our old camp through all the dust and heat, tired in every bone, every fibre of clothing soaked and resoaked in perspiration; having, in the course of four days, gone some fifty or sixty miles. We hope it was our last march. God send it may be so! for it is too much for men.
After our return, we gave a day or two to grateful rest. Abundant rations were drawn, among them a quantity of soft bread,—nothing but dry and rather sour flour-bread; but how we jumped at it!
We are waiting now in the woods for something else. The sound of guns is constant to us here; and, at the “front” (a short walk from us), scarcely a minute passes without a report: for there you can catch the cannonade of the fleet, and that from the other approaches of the army. In the evening, from every quarter, can be seen the dropping of shells into the rebel works, — the fuses of the bombs whirling through the air, — and the sudden lighting-up of the explosions.
A formidable battery of ship’s guns has opened, within a few days, not far from us. My first visit;-to it was in the evening. Bivins and I slung our Canteens (for we never miss an opportunity of going for water), and started down the blind, obstructed cart-track which leads out of the woods. Every few minutes came in the heavy crash of the Dahlgrens we were going to see; that and the lighter reports of guns farther off. We were soon out on the plain, where the battery is placed. To the right of it ran a hedge; behind which, screened from the rebel riflemen, lay a regiment, stationed there to protect the guns against a sudden dash of the enemy.
It is now quite dark; but, in the starlight, we can see the outlines of the sand-work, behind which the guns are ranged. The rebel intrenchments are, from quarter to half a mile away, in front of us. We can see three or four large fires burning within them. Volumes of flame and smoke roll up among the trees, and the soldiers about us think they can make out the figures of men standing by the glare. As often as once a minute, from the east, where lies a huge New-York battery; from the right, which Weitzel holds; or over on the opposite side from us, where lies the fleet in the river, — as often as once in a minute, like heat-lightning, flashes a cannon; then, in a few seconds, comes the roar; then another light within the fortress, as the shell explodes.
Now a “Dahlgren ” in our battery here is discharged. How fierce and sullen! I must have a nearer view: so I make my way in behind the earth-work itself, and stand with the sailors, who are detached from duty on ship-board to manage these great fellows. Each gun stands on a broad platform, sloping from rear to front to prevent the recoil of the piece from sending it too far back. They are part of the broadside of the “Richmond;” and have already done good service at the taking of the forts, and the running of the Port Hudson batteries in March.
“Ready there at No. 2!” says the officer in charge. The crew of “No. 2” stand back, and I brace myself for the concussion. A sailor jerks a lanyard, and it is done. It is no light field-piece, remember; but one of war’s grimmest monsters. Clash go my teeth together, my bones almost rattle; then follows the hungry, ravening shriek of the shell, which breaks forth like a horrible bird of prey to devour the whole world. It sweeps hoarsely toward the enemy’s line; then I hear it go “thud-thud!” through some obstruction. In a moment, the air beyond is lit up with its bursting; and the sound roars back to us, — to us, now enveloped in the sulphurous cloud that wraps the whole neighborhood.
The rebels now very seldom answer our artillery. Before we went to Clinton, occasionally they opened on us with shell. If we lighted fires at night, betraying our position in the woods, presently we could hear the shells come humming toward the light like great dor-bugs of a summer-night. Hum-m-m! then a burst, and a dash of heavy iron, “thump” upon the ground in the midst of the camp. Lately, however, there has been no firing, except by their riflemen.
June 11. — Slight shower in the morning. Received a letter from Father. Put on my captain’s straps to-day for the first time. Received orders in the evening to move before daybreak.
Thursday,11th—The Thirty-fifth Iowa received marching orders. A report is that General Burnside with eight thousand troops went on an expedition up the Yazoo river today. Cannonading has been heard on all sides all day. News came that General Banks has Port Hudson surrounded and is now besieging the place.
11th June (Thursday).—General Ripley took me in his boat to Morris Island. We passed Fort Sumter on our left, and got aground for five minutes in its immediate neighbourhood; then bearing off towards the right, we passed Fort Cummins Point, and (after entering a narrow creek) Fort Wagner on our left. The latter is a powerful, well-constructed field-work, mounting nine heavy guns, and it completely cuts across Morris Island at the end nearest to Fort Sumter. General Ripley pointed at Fort Wagner with some pride.
We landed near the house of the colonel who commanded the troops in Morris Island,[1] and borrowed his horses to ride to the further extremity of the island. We passed the wreck of the Keokuk, whose turret was just visible above the water, at a distance from the shore of about 1500 yards. On this beach I also inspected the remains of the so-called “Yankee Devil,” a curious construction, which on the day of the attack had been pushed into the harbour by one of the Monitors. This vessel, with her appendage, happened to be the first to receive the fire of Fort Sumter, and after a quarter of an hour Monitor and Devil got foul of one another, when both came to grief, and the latter floated harmlessly ashore. It seems to have been composed of double twenty-inch beams, forming a sort of platform or stage fifty feet long by twenty broad, from which depended chains with grappling irons to rake up hostile torpedoes. The machine was also provided with a gigantic torpedo of its own, which was to blow up piles or other obstacles.
Morris Island is a miserable, low, sandy desert, and at its further extremity there is a range of low sand-hills, which form admirable natural parapets. About ten guns and mortars were placed behind them, and two companies of regular artillery were stationed at this point under the command of Captain Mitchell (the “patriot’s” son), to whom I was introduced. He seemed a quiet, unassuming man, and was spoken of by General Ripley as an excellent officer. He told me he expected to be able to open fire in a day or two upon the Yankees in Folly Island and Little Folly; and he expressed a hope that a few shell might drive them out from Little Folly, which is only distant 600 yards from his guns. The enemy’s large batteries are on Folly Island, 3400 yards off, but within range of Captain Mitchell’s rifled artillery, one of which was a twelve-pounder, Whitworth.
A blockade-runner, named the Ruby, deceived by some lights on Folly Island, ran ashore at one o’clock this morning in the narrow inlet between Morris Island and Little Folly. The Yankees immediately opened fire on her, and her crew, despairing of getting her off, set her on fire—a foolish measure, as she was right under Captain Mitchell’s guns—and whenever a group of Yankees approached the wreck, a shell was placed in their midst, which effectually checked their curiosity. The Ruby was therefore burning in peace. Her crew had escaped, all except one man, who was drowned in trying to save a valuable trunk.
After having conversed some time with Captain Mitchell and his brother officers, we took leave of them; and General Ripley, pursuing his tour of inspection, took me up some of the numerous creeks which intersect the low marshy land of James Island. In one of these I saw the shattered remains of the sham Keokuk, which was a wooden imitation of its equally short-lived original, and had been used as a floating target by the different forts.
In passing Fort Sumter, I observed that the eastern face, from which the guns (except those en barbette) had been removed, was being further strengthened by a facing of twelve feet of sand, supported by logs of wood. There can be no doubt that Sumter could be destroyed if a vessel could be found impervious enough to lie pretty close in and batter it for five hours; but with its heavy armament and plunging fire, this catastrophe was not deemed probable. General Ripley told me that, in his opinion, the proper manner to attack Charleston, was to land on Morris Island, take Forts Wagner and Cummins Point, and then turn their guns on Fort Sumter. He does not think much of the 15inch guns. The enemy does not dare use more than 35 lb. of powder to propel 425 lb. of iron; the velocity consequently is very trifling. He knows and admires the British 68-pounder, weighing 95 cwt., but he does not think it heavy enough effectually to destroy ironclads. He considers the 11-inch gun, throwing a shot of 170 lb., as the most efficient for that purpose.
In returning from Morris Island, we passed two steamers, which had successfully run the blockade last night, besides the luckless Ruby, which had also passed the blockading squadron before she came to grief. The names of the other two are the Anaconda and Racoon, both fine-looking vessels.
I dined at Mr Robertson’s, at the corner of Rutledge Street, and met Captain Tucker of the navy there. He is a very good fellow, and a perfect gentleman. He commands the Chicora gunboat, and it was he who, with his own and another gunboat (Palmetto State), crossed the bar last February, and raised the blockade for a few hours. He told me that several Yankee blockaders surrendered, but could not be taken possession of, and the others bolted at such a pace as to render pursuit hopeless, for these little gunboats are very slow. They made the attack at daylight, and though much fired at were never struck. They seem to have taken the Yankees by surprise, and to have created great alarm; but at that time the blockading squadron consisted entirely of improvised men-of-war. Since this exploit, the frigate Ironsides, and the sloop of war Powhattan, have been added to its strength.
It poured with rain during the evening, and we had a violent thunderstorm. General Beauregard returned to Charleston this afternoon.
[1] This must have been about the spot from whence Fort Sumter was afterwards bombarded. I cannot help thinking that the Confederates made a great mistake in not fortifying the further end of Morris Island and keeping a larger garrison there, for when the Federals landed, they met with no fortification until they reached Fort Wagner.
June 11—Last night at midnight we were waked up and ordered to cook three days’ rations and hold ourselves in readiness for marching orders at any moment. But we remained in camp until this afternoon, then went on picket at Brandy Station with the first section of our battery, the remainder of the company moving camp one mile west of Brandy.
Before Vicksburg, Thursday, June 11. Pleasant day. The air light and balmy. Dust settled by the rain of yesterday. Very steady and heavy cannonading all day. A nine-inch gun was brought into position on our right to-day and busily engaged in battering down the rebel wall. Its huge missiles would bury deep in the earth, then explode, tearing up many trees.
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