Following the American Civil War Sesquicentennial with day by day writings of the time, currently 1863.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Colonel Lyon’s Letters.

 

Stevenson, Ala, Fri., June 3,1864.—We leave here tomorrow at sunrise. We had a hard rain last night, which relieves us from marching in the dust. The 22d, and other Wisconsin regiments in this department, get hurt occasionally, I see, though none except the 3d have been cut up very badly yet. There seems to be plenty of work and little glory for the poor 13th.

I had the whole regiment on dress parade last night, and it made a superb show. I felt just as though I should like to try their mettle where the bullets fly.

The new troops that have taken our place are many of them getting sick. We are toughened to the heat.

June 3d. In camp near Harrisonburg. Sat up very late last night watching the Signal Corps using rockets and roman candles. A wonderful sight. Reported General Hunter is trying to get in communication with General Crook who is in the mountains making for Staunton, the same point that we are headed for. Hospital in town, containing a few wounded Union soldiers. Held as prisoners, were re-captured. Among them was Charlie Avery, a member of our company, wounded through the chest. He surprised us by coming into our camp asking for his brother Jim, also a member of our company. Up to this time we did not know whether he was alive. Could not remain with us, was obliged to return to the hospital. The weather hot, muggy, with heavy rain storms. Our shelter tents are poor protection in these hard storms, as the rain pours down. We try to keep as dry and as comfortable as we can. The boys keep in good spirits and do not growl very much.

3rd. Reinforcements coming in rapidly via W. H. and also Fredericksburg. 13th O. C. arrived. Saw paper of the 31st. News very encouraging. Reported move of rebel infantry around and to rear of Burnside’s right. Guess old Grant has fixed it so as to give them a warm reception. Rained yesterday and last night. Our troops in good spirits. 2nd Brigade in our advance. Fought over the ground near Salem Church where our Cavalry Corps had a severe fight with rebel infantry the day they crossed the Pamunkey. Col. Prescott, 1st Vermont, killed and Lt. Col. 1st Conn. wounded in the thigh. Rebs retreated beyond our fortifications. 1st Brigade Battery fired a little. Moved up to the outer works and remained till night. 2nd Brigade formed over to the left nearly at right angles to Burnside’s line. Three Divisions of rebel infantry, Heths of Ewell’s Corps, Rhodes of Hill’s, and one of Longstreet’s charged the flank of Burnside. Rebs were repulsed with great slaughter. 2nd Brigade did splendidly. The cross fire of artillery and musketry just mowed down the rebels. 1st Brigade moved back and formed where we formed in the morning. Slept till morning. Letter from home, May 15.

Friday, June 3d.

At half-past 4 A. M., after a rainy night, our artillery on the left opened fire, and the cannonading gradually extended to the right, and at about 6 o’clock became simply terrific all along the line. A charge upon the enemy’s work’s followed, made by troops of two or three of the corps at least, and it was reported that two rebel lines were carried and eighteen guns and many prisoners taken, but that being flanked by artillery our troops could not hold their position and were compelled to retire, abandoning the guns and leaving many wounded on the field. The prisoners taken and brought off were a tough looking lot, but they were better clothed, better shod and had more rations in their haversacks than any we have heretofore captured during the campaign. Our regiment was not actually in the charge, but in the afternoon we were moved up to the breast-works, which, along a part of the line, were simply a broad ridge of earth with a ditch on each side, the Union troops being on one side and the Confederates on the other, and the soldiers on neither side dared show their heads above the ridge. Immediately in the rear of the intrenchments, the earth was full of little excavations two or three feet deep, over which shelter tents were pitched so that the occupants could sleep, when opportunity offered, without danger of being hit by the bullets which often traversed the surface of the ground both day and night. These residences were called “gopher holes,” and, as might be supposed, were very popular with the soldiers no matter what their rank might be. After cutting abattis for the breast-works until dark, I was, during the night, ordered to take a detail from my company, and, with other details from our regiment, go and assist in building a redoubt for artillery on General Barlow’s front close up to the rebel lines. My instructions were most vague and unsatisfactory, and as I knew nothing about the lay of the land, I reported at once to General Barlow’s headquarters, which consisted of a wall tent with a sentry and a Division flag in front of it. I found the General curled up in the corner of his tent examining a map with a candle, but on learning that I wanted a guide he sent a staff officer with me to point out the way. I do not think this officer knew any more about the location of the lines than I did, for he lead us around in an aimless way, and at length brought us up behind a battery of artillery posted in the second line, where I halted the company to inquire of the officer in command of the battery whether he knew what was required of me. It was pitch dark, and suddenly one of those unaccountable fusillades occurred, so frequently started by somebody firing a gun on one side or the other in the night time, and the artillery on both sides promptly joined in the melee. The enemy seemed to have the range of this particular battery perfectly, and made our position so hot that I took the company away from the rear of it by the right flank at “double quick,” fortunately not losing a man except my guide, whom I never saw again. The commander of the battery had indicated to me where he thought I ought to go, which was across a ravine almost immediately in his front, and after the firing had ceased I reached the ground and with the other details built the redoubt. We had to cut the necessary logs in the ravine and carry them up the side hill, and the almost incessant musketry fire, and the sharpshooter’s fire as it grew lighter, seriously impeded the work. Occasionally there would be paroxysms of artillery firing, when we would have to suspend altogether and seek the best shelter we could find, and on one of these occasions Capt. Gould and I met in a washout or gully near by, made by some previous rainstorm in the light sandy soil, which was hardly large enough for two, and we had a good-natured argument as to which ranked the other in the right to possession. After the work was sufficiently advanced to afford some protection from the rebel fire, we were subjected to danger from our own people, for the battery in our second line of which I have spoken, opened fire two or three times on the rebel line beyond us, and sent its shot and shell screeching uncomfortably close to our heads, some of the latter exploding rather short and sending fragments and encased iron balls into our redoubt. And yet it was a beautiful sight to see the lines of fire in the darkness caused by the burning fuses of the shells when coming towards us, followed by brilliant explosions, the whole exhibition resembling very closely that made by sky-rockets at a Fourth of July celebration. During the night Gen’l Barlow visited our little fort, crawling in over the exposed ground on his hands and knees, and upon his asking how we had got in there, we answered “just as you did.”

Friday, 3d—It rained nearly all day and changed the dust into mud, which made the marching very heavy. We left camp at 8 o’clock and leaving the valley, traveled over a spur of Lookout mountain nine miles across. We marched eighteen miles today and bivouacked on the Chattanooga river. We passed a house of mourning today where lay the body of the head of the family, he having been killed just a few days before in a battle with Sherman’s men. I never saw a sadder sight. The wife and daughters dressed in deep, rich mourning were most pitifully bewailing their loss. But some of our boys remarked that the people of the South had brought on this war themselves.

June 3, 1864.

Relieved the 6th Iowa at 6:30 this a.m. The Rebels shoot pretty close. Killed Orderly Sergeant of Company I, (VanSycle), and wounded three men in our regiment to-day. This makes 50 in killed, wounded and prisoners, or one in every six.

Huntsville, Friday, June 3. Cloudy, rained most of the day. Three regiments of the 2nd Brigade came in and went into camp on their old grounds. The railroad is now guarded from Stevenson to Flint River by new troops, dismounted cavalry.

June 3. — We were held in reserve, and had to march and countermarch all day long. We were finally moved out to support Willcox, who was to make a charge. While we were lying here, a shell came along and grazed my coat sleeve. I had just changed my position, thereby saving my life, for the shell otherwise would have hit me in the back. We were finally moved to form a junction between Willcox and Potter. We did so, and after building rifle-pits retired to our old position, leaving the 39th to guard the pits. I was in command of the brigade part of the day as the general was sick.[1]

[Since this diary was written, I have found out that we formed the extreme right of the army, this right being refused so as to protect our rear. This brought us back to back with our troops right in front of us, our line being curved around like a fish-hook, and we forming the barb, as it were. It also turned us back to the enemy. There was a battery somewhere on our flank that was annoying us, and the rumor was that Willcox was to charge it and we were to support him. Anyway, the men were all lying down, and I was sitting with a cape of my coat thrown over my shoulder, leaning against the roots of an rooted pine tree. Shells and bullets would keep dropping every once in a while, but nothing hot or heavy. I finally got tired and threw my legs from one side of the trunk to the other. It was not more than five seconds after I had done this that a shell fired at our troops on the front of our line, along the long part of the fish-hook, as it were, came over them, and plunged through the roots of the pine tree, just grazing my shoulder and covering me all over with dirt. It dropped right at my feet. Had I not changed my position, I should have been taken square in the back and crushed to pieces. It made me very nervous about shells. Until then I had not minded them much. Sometimes they seem to burst in the air all around you and never do much harm, although occasionally one would be destructive. My men all jumped up, thinking I was killed ; but my usual luck attended me and I came out all right.]


[1] The fighting in these early days of June is known as the Battle of Cold Harbor.

June 3 — Early this morning we started with the cavalry on a reconnoissance around the right of the Yankee army. We made a circuitous march of about eighteen miles in the direction of the Pamunkey. While we were on the march General Grant’s forces charged General Lee’s whole line of works at Cold Harbor in the lower part of Hanover County, and as usual these latter days General Lee was ready for General Grant’s onslaught and assault. The enemy made some four or five gallant and desperate charges on Lee’s line, and were successfully repulsed and hurled back every time with fearful slaughter. The way the musketry roared and raged the fire must have been terrific at times, especially during the desperate charges of the enemy, when the Union patriots rushed up against General Lee’s line like maddened sea waves dashing against an adamantine wall, and were slaughtered by the hundreds, yes, thousands.

If we had a Stonewall Jackson now, with fifteen thousand men, just to show the great fighter Ulysses a little Jacksonian flanking trick, I am almost confident that after to-day’s slaughter Ulysses would be searching with more eagerness and anxiety for the friendly protection of the gunboats on James River than did General McClellan in 1862 when he heard old Stonewall thunder on his right flank and rear.

We passed to-day many and extensive earthworks that were constructed and occupied a few days ago by the enemy. The whole country along the south side of the Pamunkey is literally dug up and covered with breastworks, breastworks from which there never was a shot fired, and which have been abandoned in that oft-repeated movement by the left flank.

About middle of the day we encountered the enemy at Hawes’ Shop. We had a warm and spirited artillery duel with them of a couple hours’ duration; there was also some little sharpshooting among the cavalry. After fighting two or three hours both sides seemed to be satisfied, ceased firing, and withdrew from the field. We came back to the Chickahominy and camped about a mile above Meadow Bridge. In coming back this afternoon we passed the field on Tottapotamy Creek, where General Breckinridge fought and defeated the Yankees a few days ago. For about two miles the battle-ground is covered with intrenchments and heavy banks of earthwork higher than a man’s head. The whole field is a perfect labyrinth of thrown-up ridges running in every direction, and so constructed that men can pass from one to the other without exposing themselves to an enemy’s fire.

Diary And Memoranda, 1864

June 3rd. Started for the scene of war. Father went with me to Boston. (He was ordered to go by Albany on business by the capt. of his company.)