Thursday, 9th—Saturday, 11th—All quiet. Put on one month’s roots for the Kentucky trip; read at dress parade yesterday evening; commenced this morning.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
July 11th. Commences with light winds from the westward; at four forty-five A. M. got under way and steamed down the river; at nine ten went to general quarters; at nine thirty anchored off Donaldsonville; at ten fifty went to general quarters once more, and prepared for action; fired the forward Parrott rifle at the different points as we passed; fired the broadside guns at embrasures cut in the levee from which our vessels lately were fired upon by pieces of rebel flying artillery, but received no response; steaming down the river in charge of pilot; passed between the hours of twelve and four P. M., the sloop-of-war Monongahela and iron-clad Essex, gunboat, at anchor; the lads manned the rigging and cheered ship, which was vociferously returned by them; the steamers Albatross and Estrella were in company with us; about five P. M., passed the U. S. sloop-of-war Portsmouth anchored off Carrollton; from her we received another cheer which we quickly returned; she also dipped her colors as we were passing; cheer upon cheer rent the air from youngsters and grown-up persons on shore, who had seen us approaching, and flocked down to the levee to give expression to their feelings of joy at seeing the noble old ship Hartford once more, which they had begun to have a sort of veneration for on account of the great deeds she had performed, making her name to be held in dread by all traitors to their country; about six thirty passed the Pensacola, rounded to and at six thirty-five had ship cheered by Pensacola and Tennessee, which we returned; at six forty came to anchor off the city of New Orleans. Soon, the news spread of our arrival, and crowds of people flocked down to the levee to see us once more; they were informed by those in sympathy with the rebels, (loyal now because they were forced to be to save their property from confiscation, and themselves from being sent beyond our lines), that in attempting to pass the batteries at Port Hudson on the 14th of March last we had been sunk, and they, in proof of the truth of their statement, referred to the fact that when the Hartford left New Orleans last, she was painted black, and the vessel before them was of a light lead color; in fact they so talked their theory into them that they believe it to be the truth; even the statement of the Era, a daily loyal sheet, that the Hartford had arrived, was not believed, and some of our boys ashore on liberty, with the ship’s name on their hats, could not make them believe any different; in fact, they could not be made to believe it until parties had been on board who were acquainted with some of our officers, and returned, having seen them, and learned we had the power of changing our plumage wherever we might be.
Between Hagerstown And Frederick Junction,
July 11, 1863.
Dear Family:
So far we have received your letters in due time. We are right on the tramp. My last letter I left off rather suddenly; I had no intention of sending it in that mail, but the boy came round and said, mail was going. We started from F. June, on the 7th at 5 P.m., marched through Fred’k and out on the Middletown pike, about 9 miles and turned in for the night. (A band has just struck up Hail Columbia, two yards from here; it stirs me so, I can hardly write!) Have been on the road ever since and are at last at destination. Reserve artillery corps, commanded by Genl. Tyler. We are now in the Fort, are going to have some guns; we expected we should have to go in as infantry. If you will get a map, showing the roads in Maryland and Virginia, I will every time I write, show the route which may be interesting to you; it is very probable we, of this battilion, shall keep with the army of the Potomac the rest of the time. On the way here, we passed where the cavalry passed last Thursday; a great many had horses in the woods and along the road we could see where shot had struck. We are now beginning to see a little service, nothing but hard tack, pork and coffee, which we have to cook ourselves, but still I like it. In fact I like the whole thing. I think I shall fat up on it. Being tough, will eat, drink and sleep together. We have had a chance to see a great deal of the old Army, some regiments have but about 40 men; one Co. went into the fight with 33 men, 27 were shot dead on the spot. Some regts have been consolidated five times and have now but about 200 men, it is awful to think of. There were a great many killed on both sides, in the last battle. We are trying our best to catch Johnny Reb. Don’t know as we shall succeed. Should not be surprised if there was a great battle tomorrow, you know Sundays are the days for big fights. The boys are feeling well, but have no desire to be in a fight but would like to see one. Have seen any quantity of the Johnnies lately, not less than 2000 taken prisoner since the last fight. I wish you could see them, they don’t look as if they belonged to the American Continent; they have a very peculiar look. All of the boys had quite a talk with them, they talk better than they look. I am today the same boy L. B. Jr.; but a few years older than when I left, I am 17 today. The regiment has now been in the service over two years, will soon be nine months more. If you see uncle Frank tell him that George and the rest are well. We dont have much of a chance to write but certainly will once a week. Direct yours to the same as ever, with the exception of the place Washington, D. C. That is the place. Jere is well and sends his love. Much love to all from
Leverett.
[During the Gettysburg campaign a large number of Company B were detached from the regiment and placed in the light batteries of the regular army to make up the losses caused by this severe campaign.—Ed.]
Near Jackson, Miss., July 11th, 1863.
On the 6th of July, at about 3 o’clock p. m., we fell into line and started for the Big Black River, distant about two miles. The Rebels had shown themselves in considerable force on the opposite bank, and had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits, which’ were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed by a thick growth of small cane, killing and wounding several of our men. Their force was unknown to us, the river fifteen to twenty feet deep, the banks level, and, on the other side, covered with a heavy growth of timber.
Bridges must be built, and the hazardous task was assigned to the First Brigade. In crossing a level stretch of cleared land, by looking back, I could see the whole brigade in motion, winding along like a huge serpent and extending nearly a mile in length, and a feeling of pride and exultation surged over me as I saw, once more, the grand old Ninth Corps advancing on our country’s foe, and led, too, by the glorious Seventeenth.
On arriving at the river we formed in line behind a bank, thickly covered with brush, and awaited the darkness of night before beginning our task.
At dusk each regiment was formed into reliefs, for fatigue duty, and the work of building began. Contrary to our expectations, no opposition was offered. A raft was built on which skirmishers were carried over, but they found no enemy. As soon as they discovered our determination to cross, they fell back toward Jackson. We built our bridge, and crossed the next day, July 7th, at 12 m. A deserter told us they had heard of the surrender of Vicksburg, and had left in haste. Quite a number of mules and beef cattle were left behind, and were taken in charge by our Quartermaster. Here our advance assumed somewhat the nature of a forced march. We halted but a few minutes at a time, and continued, until nearly midnight, to feel our way. Our first day’s march, after crossing the river, was over a rough, broken country, covered by a thick growth of timber, which afforded a grateful shade, alternated by open stretches of cleared land, where the sun beat down upon us in all its fierceness. Many of our men fell out; several were sunstruck, two of whom died in a few minutes. On our previous short marches we had been greatly inconvenienced by the scarcity of water, but we had now to travel thirty miles through a country almost destitute of springs or streams, the inhabitants depending on cisterns and artificial ponds for themselves and stock. I have not seen a well of water in Mississippi. The negroes tell us we will not find a drop of water for thirteen miles for man or beast. The long-continued drought has nearly exhausted cisterns and dried up most of the artificial ponds. We could only push ahead and trust in providence. But we were not left to perish, for that very night we marched into camp in the midst of one of the heaviest thunder showers I ever witnessed. It seems to me as much a miracle as the “Smiting of the rock for the Children of Israel.” And I thanked God and took courage. That, and the frequent showers that followed, saved thousands of men and horses from perishing of thirst. As often happens when large bodies of troops are in motion, our supply train did not come up, and the second morning from the river found us with empty haversacks. Unlike Virginia, this part of Mississippi abounds in cattle and hogs, and the ravines around our camp were soon converted into slaughter houses, from which our men supplied themselves with meat. We stayed here until 2 o’clock p. m. for the train to came up; half rations were issued, and we resumed our march, and kept it up until midnight. This was a hard day for men and horses, owing to the scarcity of water and the excessive heat. A number of men died of sunstroke, and twenty-five horses were found dead. Not a man of the Seventeenth has died, although several were compelled to fall out. As for myself, I marched near the head of the regiment all day, and was ready for a like excursion the next morning. We camped that night within five miles of Jackson, and our advance had already skirmished with their pickets, who had slowly fallen back. We were aroused at 4 in the morning, drew four days’ rations, and a little after 5 were on the move, cautiously feeling our way to avoid surprise. We marched in this way about two miles, when the enemy was discovered about three-fourths of a mile ahead, in a cornfield, drawn up in line of battle. Smith’s division formed quickly to oppose them, artillery was ordered to the front, and every preparation was made for an engagement, but, before our artillery could be brought to bear, they fell back to the left of the city and took up a position in a piece of timber.
About a mile from that place we halted and prepared again for battle. Rebel cavalry could be seen hovering near our left, while a strong force of infantry could plainly be seen in the woods in front of us. Our brigade—the First—was ordered to the front, and formed in line of battle, supported by the Third Brigade. The Forty-fifth Pennsylvania and Second Michigan deployed as skirmishers about forty rods in advance of us. They moved cautiously about one hundred yards, when the enemy fired on them, wounding four. This was a signal for an advance. We had formed in a cornfield, and advanced at 2:30 p. m. The sky was cloudless; not a breath of air was stirring. Our course, after emerging from the cornfield, lay across a level pasture. We advanced steadily, but the Rebels fell back as we approached, firing occasionally, until dark, when we halted in the wood until morning, sleeping on our arms. Soon after daylight we were up and after them, keeping, all this time, our line of battle. As we emerged into an open field we were saluted by a volley that passed harmlessly over our heads. This was their parting salute, for they immediately retired behind their fortifications, and we took up the position assigned us on the left of the city.
I have written these sketches as I could snatch a moment here and there, a few lines at a time.
Saturday, 11th.—Went out and bought Yankee canteen for 60 cents in greenbacks.
July 11.—Vicksburg was surrendered on the 4th of July. The terms of capitulation seem marvellously generous for such a foe. What can the meaning be?
General Lee has had a most bloody battle near Gettysburg. Our loss was fearful. We have heard of no casualties except in general officers. General Richard Garnett, our friend and connection, has yielded up his brave spirit on a foreign field. He was shot through the head while standing on the fortifications, encouraging his men and waving them on to the fight. How my heart bleeds to think of his hoary-headed father, of whom he was the stay! General Barksdale, of Mississippi, is another martyr. Also General Armstead, of Virginia. Generals Kemper and Pender wounded. I dread to hear of others. Who of our nearest kin may have ceased to live? When I think of probabilities and possibilities, I am almost crazy. Some of our men are reported wounded and in the enemy’s hands. They took many prisoners. The cars are rushing up and down with soldiers. Two trains with pontoons have gone up within the last two days. What does it all portend?
