Tuesday, May 31st.
We remained in the intrenchments all night while picket firing was going on, and in the morning the infantry made a charge and found the first line of the enemy’s works abandoned and took quite a number of prisoners. Our batteries were pushed forward to a line they had abandoned yesterday, and shelled the woods in all directions, and a skirmish line of infantry having been deployed to the front and left and found the rebels, a successful charge was made. The First Battalion of our regiment left the Sixth Corps and joined us to-day. Lieutenant Edmonston was sent forward with thirty of my men at 10 o’clock P. M., and threw up some breast-works near the rebel line, which opened fire upon him and he was ordered to fall back. Privates Gay and Shortsleeves of my company were wounded to-day.
Our regiment is again united and in the Second Corps, and rumors are rife that we are to have a Siege train or else be sent back to the defenses of Washington. We have been so constantly on the move, and so frequently transferred from one command to another, that the baggage wagon which is supposed to be transporting the effects of the battalion has never reached us, and I have not seen my satchel since we left Culpepper. The consequence is that during the nearly four weeks that have intervened, my linen collar has sloughed off and I have had no opportunity whatever to secure a change of clothing. I have had but two baths during that entire period, and my only “wash days” for clothing have been on those two occasions, when, as may be suspected, my garments had become a little soiled, and after scrubbing them diligently with sand and water, I hung them on the bushes to dry while I was attending to my personal ablutions. And yet my condition compares very favorably with that of my men, for dirt is the least of their trouble, as is apparent when, clad only in their skins, they seek such shade as they can find and “police” their shirts and trousers with their thumb nails.
I arrested a negro to-day on the picket-line and sent him to Headquarters as a suspected spy. He was far too intelligent about military matters to be allowed to run about and quite likely cross from one line to the other. He took a great fancy to my pocket knife and offered me $20 in Confederate currency for it, but would not take green-backs at any figure for some Confederate shin-plasters which I wanted as souvenirs, the first case of the kind that I have met.
Tuesday, 31st—We broke camp in the early morning and started on another day’s march, our brigade leaving at 7 o’clock and taking up the rear. We climbed the mountains again and after marching sixteen miles went into camp on the very top. This has been a hard march; the men are suffering as never before from sore feet and some, giving out, had to be hauled in the ambulance. Then, too, we are on two-thirds rations because of the lack of transportation.
May 31, 1864.
Generals Sherman, McPherson, Logan and Barry visited our position yesterday. Sherman looks very well. Logan smiled and bowed in return to my salute as though he recognized me. During the fight of the 28th I was standing, when he was riding along our lines on the inside of the rifle pits (with a hatful of ammunition), just over my men. He stopped by me and said: “It’s all right, damn it, isn’t it?” I returned: “It’s all right, General.” The Rebels were quite busy last night running troops and artillery along our front both ways. Some think they planted a number of guns opposite us. I hear some of the officers talking as though a fight was expected to-day. Their sharpshooters are making it quite warm here this morning; several men have been struck, but none hurt seriously.
Seven p.m.—The Rebels have just finished throwing 126 shells at us, only 19 of which bursted. We expected they would follow it with a charge, but they hardly will attempt it this late. I think we have lost none to-day in the regiment. Their shell hurt no one. Logan was slightly wounded in the arm yesterday. Colonel Dickerman died this morning.
Tuesday, May 31.— We were ordered out to the front, and took possession of some rifle-pits. Remained there but a few minutes as the enemy were found to be in strong force. Had two men shot while moving out, by the enemy’s sharpshooters. Went back to our old rifle-pits, but about two o’clock were ordered out again, the 56th being deployed as skirmishers in front of the brigade. Moved forward and took possession of the pits we vacated in the morning. Skirmishers were thrown out 6o paces in front of the rifle-pits. Had some heavy skirmishing for about an hour. Lost two men killed, and thirteen wounded, and one officer. About dark the brigade was withdrawn, the 56th remaining until 12 P.M., when we were relieved.
[I cannot find from my diary exactly when what I am about to narrate here occurred, but it was somewhere within a day or two, if it was not this very day. We were ordered out to attack the enemy, and it was to be in the nature of a surprise as far as possible, so that orders were given that no one should speak above a whisper. All orders were whispered to the men, and we were told, in marching forward, to try and not even break the branches on the ground that we were treading on. It was a beautiful summer’s day, birds were singing and the sun shimmering and shining through the trees. Everything as far as nature was concerned was as far removed from the idea or appearance of war as it possibly could be. I do not think that the suspense of going into a fight was ever so trying as it was on this occasion, and that is why I mention it here. It made such an impression on me that it will last the rest of my life. Everything, as I have said, in the surroundings breathed of peace and beauty and quiet and the loveliness of nature. Contrasted with it, we knew that within two or three minutes there would be a fight, and while advancing and waiting for the first shot to come, I had all I could do to keep myself up to my duty. When the first shot was fired, I did not care, the charm was broken, and I was ready to do my duty; but the suspense of waiting for this was perfectly awful.]
May 31 — All is well in our immediate front, and we remained in camp to-day.
Huntsville, Tuesday, May 31. Went out on drill this morning on the outskirts of town under Lieutenant Clark two hours. When we returned to camp we found our veterans direct from home. The reunion was very cordial, and to see faces that had been to Wisconsin, brought us nearer to the absent ones. The remainder of the day was happily spent in asking and answering questions, with incidents and anecdotes. Visited Christian Commission rooms in the evening, borrowed Jessie Fremont’s Story of the Guard, and read it with interest. No news from the contending foes.
May 31st. This morning still finds us in camp on the battle-field, near New Market. Orders from the General’s headquarters. Details have been made to forage and sent out from headquarters. Inspection and battalion drill by our Colonel, Ely. The first since his return from prison. The Colonel, on the quiet, restored to their former rank the non-commissioned officers reduced by General Hunter for foraging. They were all good boys, and driven to it by hunger. I often wonder why we must have this awful war. This is a beautiful country, at this time quiet and peaceful, but the horrors of war liable to come at most any time.
31st. Saddled up and moved at 3 A. M. Crossed the Pamunkey and took Hanover Court House. About two miles from town began skirmishing. At noon 2nd made a charge, driving the enemy and capturing some prisoners, skirmishing till about sundown, when the brigade formed and charged the rebel position about the court house. I was on the left. Rode my horse. Firing very hot indeed. Rebels held a fence along a sunken road and several houses. 2nd charged this position. The number of dead (rebs) left upon the field told plainly the work we did. Rebels gave way. Came near capturing two pieces of artillery which played upon us till the last minute. Our regiment lost 25 in killed and wounded. Remained in position during night. In the morning moved on towards Ashland.
May 31, Tuesday. No special matters in Cabinet. Mr. Seward sent me on Saturday a correspondence between himself and Lord Lyons and the Treasury Department relative to a large amount of cotton which was purchased a few months since in Georgia by one John Mulholland, an Englishman, who desires to bring it out, or, if he could not do that, to have it protected. The Secretary of State wrote the Secretary of the Treasury for views. The Treasury thought the proposition to bring it out inadmissible, but when our military lines were so extended as to include this cotton the agents of the Treasury would give it the same care as the property of loyal citizens; thinks it would be well to advise the Navy and War Departments to instruct their officers. Hence the communication to me.
I decline giving any such instructions, and so have written Mr. Seward, considering it illegal as well as inexpedient, telling him it would be a precedent for transferring all the products of the South into foreign hands to pay for munitions of war which we should be bound to protect. None but Englishmen would have the presumption to make such a request. It is entitled to no respect or consideration. Not unlikely it is cotton of the Rebel government covered up.
by John Beauchamp Jones
MAY 31ST.—Clear, with hot sun.
Last evening there was some fighting on Lee’s right, and 125 prisoners were sent in.
This morning cannon and musketry could be distinctly heard east of my dwelling; but at 3 P.M. I have not been able to learn the extent of it or the result.
But the GREAT BATTLE is imminent. Troops have been coming over from the south side (Beauregard’s) for twenty hours, and marching down Main Street toward the Williamsburg road. It is doubtless a flank movement of Beauregard, and an attack on Grant may be expected any hour; and must occur, I think, tomorrow at furthest.
I have not learned that Butler has retired from his position—and if not, our communications must be in peril. But no matter, so Grant be beaten.
All the local troops are ordered to be in readiness to march at a moment’s warning, this evening or night.
