June 15th. Up and early on the march this hot morning. Going up the narrow road over the mountains we make very slow progress. The Rebs and bushwhackers have cut down large trees and fell them across the road. The Pioneer Corps are having hard work to clear the road. As we pass slowly along the bodies of dead Rebs are lying beside the road, having been killed by the advance scouts. They looked frightful, with their long black beards and white faces, in death. The road is very narrow and winding as we go on up the mountains. At the side of the road one can look away down into the valley and ravines. Army wagons can be seen down among the trees. We suppose they must have broken down and been pushed over to get them out of the way. It was cause enough to set the boys talking and to help make them forget their own troubles. A hard, tiresome march over the mountains, stopping for the night between the Peaks of Otter, having marched only fourteen miles. Orders are to keep very quiet and not make any fires. Must go without our coffee for the night.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
15th. Moved out on Richmond road, and Malvern Hill road till we encountered the enemy. Six companies of our regiment on extreme left skirmish line—rest in reserve, till the 18 P. V. were driven back in a little disorder; then the six companies were ordered in. So much confusion on part of 18th that we were into the rebs or they into us before we knew it. Then came confusion of orders. Our boys saw rebel infantry. Did them some damage. By order fell back a few rods and then held our line. One of Co. A killed and one of Co. M wounded. After one-half hour ordered to fall back. Nettleton’s Batt. holding the rebs—mounted—2 men wounded and 3 horses killed. Awfulest place for a fight we were ever in. Very thick pine brush and few trees. Woods on fire and smoke almost intolerable. Got out well. Fell back to junction of roads. I dismounted to fight. 2nd Ohio on picket. Co. M. ordered back to Smith’s store where we had fought. Rebs came in rear. Killed Sergt. Edson. One missing. Quiet till morning. Deep sleep. Rations issued. We failed to get any. Oh this is the most fatiguing work we ever did.
Wednesday, 15th—The day has been clear and quite warm. This morning Company E was sent out as sharpshooters. During the night the Eleventh and Sixteenth Regiments had thrown up a new line of rifle pits, about a half mile in advance of the old one, and at noon today moved forward in line of battle into the new trenches. At the same time our skirmish line was ordered to advance on the rebel skirmish line, and it being our company’s turn to go out on the line, we were deployed and advanced, driving in the rebel skirmish line for almost a half mile, pushing them back from their first and second lines of fence rails piled up for their protection. We approached so near to their rifle pits at the foot of Kenesaw mountain as to make it possible for their artillerymen to use grape and canister upon us, killing one man, William Alexander. The rebel skirmishers now received reinforcements, while our skirmishers on the left failing to come up with us, made a gap in our lines and left us in a very hot place for a little while, as it gave the rebels a cross fire on us and we were compelled to fall back, thus losing some of the ground taken. But just then our colonel sent another company in double quick to relieve us, and our lost position was regained. We had become completely used up and lost one man killed, one mortally wounded, seven slightly wounded, and one man taken prisoner.[1] Our stretcher bearers, after the fight, raised the white flag and went to get the body of Alexander for burial.
[1] As was supposed at the time. See note, under June 16th.—Ed.
Huntsville, Wednesday, June 15. Weather fine. Health very good. Weight 138. Mounted monthly inspection by Captains Budlong and Dillon at 10 A. M. Green peas for dinner Myself sick. Division concentrating at this place. 63rd Illinois arrived at 4 P. M. Two soldiers, 2nd Brigade, married to girls they found at Scottsboro.
June 15 — Inactive with the first gun to-day, on account of an empty limber chest. Weather pleasant.
June 15. — We lay all day about two miles from the James River, in the same position that we were last night. Day warm. We received orders to be ready to move at 6 P.M., and after issuing four days’ rations of ham and bread, and two of coffee and sugar, we started for the river [James], crossing on a pontoon bridge 2100 feet long. Passed General Meade’s headquarters before crossing the river, and saw Bache.[1]
[1] An aide to General Meade.
June 15th. Set out at 10 A.m. on the Petersburg pike; had gone ten miles when we heard firing; got to the extreme front at 12 M. The negro troops had taken four lines of the enemy’s works.
Wednesday, June 15th.
The Second Corps infantry and several of its batteries of artillery crossed the river to-day and started for Petersburg. About 9 in the morning our regiment was ordered up close to the river bank preparatory to crossing, but was held there all day waiting for an opportunity, the means of crossing being quite inadequate for the Corps. Taking advantage of the delay, I sent one of my men to a sutler to get something for me toothsome to eat, and he returned with what he said was the only can of boned turkey the sutler had, and with that and some hardtack which I had secured from a Commissary, I sat on a log on the banks of the James indulging in the most delightful luncheon I had taken for several weeks, and watching the troops and artillery crossing the river several feet below me. Many amusing scenes were witnessed from my log, perhaps the most amusing one of which was the struggle of two mules apparently to drown each other. They had been pushed off of a ferryboat into the river, and having their harnesses on, and being more or less strapped together, independent action was quite impossible, and so they devoted their energies to climbing over each other, the result of which was that each was alternately above and below the surface of the water until at length some of the teamsters got a rope fastened to one of the harnesses and dragged them ashore none the worse for their aquatic exercise. My company cook, Skinkle, had somwhere during the campaign picked up a wounded mule of great size, and by dint of careful nursing had secured a most useful beast of burden, upon which he hung the heavier cooking utensils of the company, his own knapsack and occasionally the knapsack of some weary comrade. Many other similar “waifs and strays” had been caught and utilized by the foot soldiers in the same way, until it seemed as if these “attached recruits” were more numerous than the regular “rank and file” of their kind. When we reached the James an order was promulgated to the effect that none of these useful animals should be permitted to cross, and when they were turned loose on the plain above the river it was surprising to see what an immense drove there was. Skinkle tried several times to run the guards, but his load of pots and kettles betrayed him and he was finally compelled to abandon the effort. Just at this juncture a bright idea struck “Little Scovil,” the youngest and the smallest man in the company, and coming to me very deferentially, he said that if I would give him “leave of absence” for the afternoon he would guarantee to get the mule across the river, and he appealed to my selfish interest by saying that the beast had carried my own overcoat and blanket many a mile, and would be wanted again for the same service. Upon getting his “leave,” Scovil distributed the motley load of “camp and garrison equipage” among the men of the company, for the mule had many friends, to be taken across by them, and, shedding his uniform, boldly led the beast down on to one of the boats with the mules of a wagon train, and actually safely delivered it to Skinkle on the other side.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JUNE 15TH.—Clear and cool; warm late in the day.
It is rumored now that the enemy got to Westtown yesterday, some ten miles below the point on this side occupied by Butler; and to-day he is leaving, either crossing to the south side (probably to cut the railroad), or embarking in his transports for no one knows whither. So, this attempt to take Richmond is as bad a failure as any. Grant has used up nearly a hundred thousand men—to what purpose? We are not injured, after withstanding this blow of the concentrated power of the enemy. It is true some bridges are burned, some railroads have been cut, and the crops in the line of the enemy’s march have been ruined; but our army is intact: Lee’s losses altogether, in killed and wounded, not exceeding a few thousand.
A report of an officer states that the James River is not fordable anywhere above for forty miles.
There is a rumor on the street that the head of Ewell’s corps (commanded by Gen. Early) crossed the Rappahannock, yesterday, at United States Ford. If this be so, there must be consternation in Washington; and the government there will issue embarrassing orders to Grant.
The spirits of the people here are buoyant with the Western news, as well as with the result of Lee’s campaign.
The death of Gen. Polk, however, is lamented by a good many. The operations of Forrest and Morgan are inspiring.
June 15, 1864.
This has been a star day, and a better feeling lot of men that compose our brigade will be hard to find, for to-night any way. The morning was occupied in cleaning guns, etc. At 11 o’clock the assembly was sounded, and we moved one and one-half miles, which brought us on the left of the whole army. By 1 p.m. we had our line formed running from right to left, 103d Illinois, 6th Iowa, 46th Ohio, 40th Illinois, with the 97th Indiana deployed as skirmishers. We were in about the center of an open lot of plantations, facing a densely-wooded hill of maybe 300 acres. It was a plumb one-third of a mile to it and already the enemy’s sharpshooters were reaching our men from it.
One of Company K’s men was shot here, and one of H’s. At precisely 1 p.m. we started, the men having been notified that they would have to get to that woods as quickly as possible. The Rebels opened pretty lively. Right in front of where I am now writing is a house. On the porch I see 11 children, not over nine years old. All belong to one woman. Haven’t seen her, but from what I have seen in this country, wouldn’t dispute the man who would tell me she was only 20 years old. This is a great stock country. As we started, the boys raised a cheer that was a cheer, and we went down on them regular storm fashion. A hundred yards before we got to the hill we ran into a strong line of rifle pits swarming with Johnnies. They caved and commenced begging. The pit I came to had about 20 in it. They were scared until some of them were blue, and if you ever heard begging for life it was then. Somebody yelled out “Let’s take the hill,” and we left the prisoners and broke. At the foot of the hill we came to a muddy rapid stream, from 10 to 15 feet wide and no crossing, so we plunged in. I got wet to my middle, and many did to their breasts.
The banks were steep and slippery and muddy. Though we all expected a serious fight on the hill, up we went every man for himself, and through to an open field, over which some 200 straggling sandy looking Johnnies were trying to get away, which most of them accomplished, as we were too tired to continue the pursuit fast enough to overtake them. However, the boys shot a lot of them. Well, they call it a gallant thing. We took 542 prisoners, and killed and wounded I suppose 100.
The whole loss in our brigade is not 10 killed and 50 wounded. I only had one man wounded in my company, Corp. E. D. Slater. There were three killed and nine wounded in the regiment.
There were three regiments of Rebels—the 31st, 40th and 54th Alabama. They ought to have killed and wounded at least 500 of us, but we scared them out of it. They shot too high all the time. Osterhaus also had a hard fight to-day, was successful in taking a line of rifle pits. Thomas drove them a mile.
