June 17th. A cornfield was a rough place to sleep for a night, and try to rest. Up early this morning. After a hasty feed, again on the march, along the main pike to Lynchburg. Our advance is slow most of the time, as we drive the enemy along. At times it is hot work. General Hunter, for reasons best known to himself, has ordered the burning up of many fine old Virginia mansions with all the contents. Many fine appearing ladies weep while their homes are burning. All they can do is to look on. One cannot help but feel sorry for them. That is cruel war. When told it was done by order of the General, I heard one woman say, “I would like to pull the General’s nose.” There were some great fires along that Lynchburg Pike. One report was that our men had been fired on from the houses that were burned. They were not all burned, along the pike. It is fight as we advance, at times, making a forced march. Late this P. M. we go into battle near Lynchburg. A hot one. The enemy routed, retire to their main earthworks, near town. We capture two field pieces and a number of prisoners. Darkness put an end to the fight. The battle is known to us as Quaker Church, four miles from Lynchburg. A line of battle having been formed, our guns were stacked, with orders to keep close in line. Getting a little feed, we dropped down on the ground to try and get a little sleep and rest. In front of Lynchburg, Virginia.
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
17th. Moved soon after daylight across the James River on pontoon bridges. River full of boats, splendid river. Camped till 3 P. M. Drew rations and forage. Moved to 4 miles of Petersburg, other brigade too. Camped at 10 P. M. till morning.
Friday, 17th—Our brigade was moved out to the left of the Fourth Division during the night, and General Logan’s Division occupied our former position. The Eleventh was at work nearly all night throwing up a new line of rifle pits, while the other regiments of our brigade occupied pits previously made by other troops. During the night Logan’s Division was twice charged upon, but both times repulsed the attack. Skirmishing began early this morning and continued throughout the day. Our entire left wing was ordered to fall in all along the line and make a demonstration, by cheering and by opening our batteries. This was done to compel them to draw reinforcements from their left, while our right would then charge their weakened left.[1] During these demonstrations and skirmishing the captain of Company C was wounded by a sharpshooter, as was also a private in Company G.
[1] This is strategy of war.—A. G. D.
Huntsville, Friday, June 17. All well and quiet. Very hot. Spent most of the day reading Pollok’s Course of Time. Received Covenant and Enquirer in the evening. Took a long walk in the soft twilight all alone, enjoyed myself very much. Drew new horses, eight of them.
June 17 — We renewed our march at midnight last night, and it was pleasant marching; the night was cool and full of moonshine. A refreshing night wind whispered softly through the trees while the moonbeams dipped their silent pencils into the dewdrops that trembled on the bending grass, and made them flash and glow like globules of burnished silver.
Little after sunrise we arrived at White Chimneys on the old stage road leading from Washington to Richmond. White Chimneys is a large house on the roadside, with four conspicuous white chimneys. I suppose it is the name of a farm, or perhaps an inn. It is in Caroline County. We rejoined the rest of the battery this morning near White Chimneys; we remained there a few hours, and were then ordered to Vernon Church, but through some misunderstanding of the order we went to Mangahink Church, which is about seven miles east of Vernon Church. After we arrived at Mangahink and found that we were mistaken, we left there immediately and moved to Vernon Church. Mangahink Church is in a section of beautiful country in the northwestern part of King William County. General Grant had his headquarters at Mangahink a few weeks ago. The church is built of brick, very common style. Vernon Church is situated in a beautiful level country; the land is low, but in a state of beautiful, clean cultivation. The weather is hot and the roads are dusty. Camped at Vernon Church.
Charles Francis Adams to his son
London, June 17,[1] 1864
As I write the date, my mind very naturally recurs to the time when, as a people, we were first subjected to the baptism of blood, under the necessity of maintaining a great idea. The sufferings of that period, terrible as they proved, were amply compensated for by the blessings enjoyed by the generation succeeding. One slight precaution only was neglected, or its importance undervalued. The consequences we now see and feel in the events that are passing in front of Richmond. As I read the sad accounts of the losses experienced by both sides in the strife, the warning words of Jefferson will ring in my ears: “I tremble for my country, when I reflect that God is just.” The moral evil which we consented to tolerate for a season has become a terrific scourge, that brings the life blood at every instant of its application. How long this chastisement is to be continued, it is idle to attempt to predict. Only one thing is clear to me, and that is the paramount duty to future generations of not neglecting again to remove the source of that evil. It is this that completes the great idea for which the first struggle was endured. It is this, and this only, that will compensate for the calamities that attend the second. There is not an event that takes place in the slave-holding states that does not confirm me in the conviction that the social system they have fostered has become a standing menace to the peace of America. The very ferocity and endurance with which they fight for their bad principle only contribute to prove the necessity of extirpating it in its very root. This is not simply for the good of America but likewise for that of the civilised world. The sympathy directed in Europe with this rotten cause among the aristocratic and privileged classes, is a sufficient proof of the support which wrongful power hopes to obtain from its success. For these reasons, painful as is the alternative, I am reconciled to the continuance of the fearful horror of the strife. Looking back on the progress made since we began, it is plain to my mind that the issue, if persevered in, can terminate only in one way. There is not a moment in which the mere force of gravitation does not incline one scale of the balance more and more at the expense of the other. In resistance to this neither labor nor skill will in the long run avail. The laws of nature are uniform. The question with the South is only of more or less of annihilation by delay. Yet I cannot conceal from myself the nature of the penalty which all of us are equally to pay for our offense before God. If the great trial have the effect of purifying and exalting us in futurity, we as a nation may yet be saved. The labor of extricating us from our perils will devolve upon the young men of the next generation who shall have passed in safety through this fiery furnace. I am now too far advanced to be able to hope to see the day of restoration, if it shall come. But it may be reserved for some of my children — indeed, for you if it please God, you survive the dangers of the hour. Great will be the responsibility that devolves upon you! May you acquit yourselves of it with honor and success! The great anniversary has inspired me to write you in this strain. I feel that even at this moment events may be happening in America which will make the memory of it still more dear to the sons of human liberty and free institutions all over the world. I accept the omen. May it be verified.
In this old world to which I now turn there is less to stimulate the imagination or to rouse the hopes of the observer. The contention here is now not so much for principle as place. The Conservative-liberal wishes to obtain the office held by the Liberal-conservative. The juggle of names only signifies that neither is in earnest. The day is one of truce between ideas. “Jeshurun has waxed fat.” And the octogenarian leader who represents him, like old Maurepas in ante-revolutionary France, thinks to settle every difference with a joke. Such men thrive in periods of transition. But the time is coming when all these frivolities will pass away, and the great national problem of privilege only to the select few will come up and demand a stern solution.
[1] Underlined — the date of the battle of Bunker Hill.
June 17. — The anniversary of Bunker Hill. We moved forward and occupied the first line of the enemy’s pits, they having been taken by General Potter last night. At 2.30 P.M. we were ordered to move over and support Willcox, who was going to charge the enemy’s rifle-pits. Willcox charged, and was unsuccessful, being driven back. Our division was then formed in line, the 1st and 2d brigades in the first line, and the 3d brigade in the second line. Colonel Gould had command of the first line, giving me command of the 1st brigade. At about 6 P.M. we charged forward, and under a heavy fire, about 200 yards, and took the rebel pits, losing heavily in doing it. We were, as usual, under a destructive enfilading fire. We held the pits some two or three hours, when the rebels charged on us, driving us from the pits into our lines again. Our men were without ammunition, and fell back on that account. We mustered 130 men in the brigade after the fight. During the fight to-day, I saw General Barlow right up in our front line.
[I could hear the rebel officer order his men forward and tell them to keep steady when they charged us. Crawley[1] was killed. We lost just about half the number of men we took into the attack. General Ledlie was drunk and quarrelled with Crawford. I believe that General Ledlie, the officer of whom I am speaking, is dead, and as this diary is never to become public property, it does not seem unfair for me to tell the truth here and to state some facts. General Ledlie was drunk on May 24, at the North Anna. There were several times that he had had too much to drink during the campaign. I think the poor man was a coward and took the liquor to try and fortify himself for the fight. Anyway, in the charge that was made this day, when I found that we were to make the charge, I made all my men take the caps off their guns. I knew from previous experiences in the campaign that, if we made a charge and the men had the caps on their guns, when we got within a few yards of the works the men would stop to fire and then turn and run, and that would be the end of it. The only chance was to keep on the steady jump and rush them right over the works. I told my men what was to be done, and said, “When you get the order to charge, you leg it like the devil. Don’t stop for anything, just run as tight as you can ” ; and they did so, and went swarming over the rebel works, capturing lots of their men, with lots of ammunition and knapsacks and all their fixings. Then came the end, which is always likely to happen when one’s commanding officer is incompetent through drink or anything else. After holding the place for three hours, we ran out of ammunition. I sent back messenger after messenger, begging them to send us ammunition. The men were there exposed to a heavy fire, both enfilading and direct from the front, and without ammunition to reply to it. It was dark before we were driven back, and then, as I have said in my diary, I could hear the rebel officer giving the order to his men: “Steady, men, steady!” while they were advancing on us. We had to retreat, as we had nothing to shoot with. When we got back over the plain into the valley from which we had started, — for we were formed in a ravine before making the charge, — I asked for General Ledlic, to whom I was to report, and who was in command of the division. He was asleep on the ground. His adjutant-general went up and kicked him awake, poked him, and said, “Colonel Weld wishes to report.” I said, “General, we have been driven back and our men are all scattered, and I don’t know what to do.” He drew himself up in a hazey-dazey sort of way, and said, “Why Colonel Weld, there are thousands of men all around here”; and then tumbled down in a drunken sleep again. If I had been older and had more sense, I should have preferred charges against him. I think there is less harm in writing what I am writing here now, because some six weeks later, when we led the charge at the Mine, I am told the same thing occurred. I did not see him there, so I cannot vouch for it, but the evidence before the Committee on the Conduct of the War shows that he was intoxicated in a bomb-proof and never went out to the Mine where we were at all.]
[1] Sergeant-major, recently appointed an officer. I believe he had not received his commission.
June 17th. Moved forward half a mile on the right of the road, layed all night, the Artillery threw shells over us, at night, which was not very pleasant. Did not have a good night’s rest.
Friday, June 17th.
At 5 A. M. the regiment formed in line and marched to a point said to be within a mile and a half of Petersburg, into the streets of which we can look, where we remained for the rest of the day. Captain Jones, of Company D, commanding the Coehorn Mortar Battery, which is not now with the regiment, was killed to-day by a sharpshooter, and I learn that Sergeant Jones, of my company, who was missing after the Spottsylvania fight, was then taken prisoner. While laying out our camp and receiving our much-needed rations, Companies A, B, F, G and H, now numbering about five hundred men, were detailed as a working party to build a line of rifle pits in front of Gen’l Barlow’s position and as near as possible to the rebel outer line, at a point not far from the City Point Railroad. As soon as it became sufficiently dark to partially conceal our movements, we shouldered our muskets and, under command of Major Williams, marched about through the woods until we reached a ravine, into which opened a deep trench or run-way, dry at the time, which came directly down from the rebel lines and formed a sort of covered way, offering complete protection on either side, but so straight that a solid shot traversing it lengthwise would probably have killed every man in it. Up this narrow defile, gradually growing more and more shallow, we crept as noiselessly as we could until we reached a point some twenty yards from the enemy’s line, when we clambered out and, extending to the right and left in single file a few feet apart, began, each man for himself, to sink holes and gradually connect them, until by daylight we had constructed a very respectable rifle pit. An occasional but harmless shot at an officer as his outline was seen against the sky, indicated that our presence was known, but the limited number of shots convinced us that the force in our immediate front was small, as subsequent events proved it to be.
by John Beauchamp Jones
JUNE 17TH.—Clear and pleasant.
A dispatch from Beauregard states that two assaults of the enemy yesterday, at Petersburg, were repulsed with loss; and it is reported that he recovered all lost ground to-day. Yet Beauregard has an enemy in his rear as well as in his front.
When the battles were fought on the south side of the river in May, it appears that one of Gen. B.’s brigadiers (Colston) stopped some battalions on the way to Richmond, in an emergency, and this has certainly given umbrage to the President, as the following indorsement, which I found on a paper to-day, will show:
“No officer has a right to stop troops moving under the orders of superior authority. If he assumes such power, he does it at his hazard, and must be justified by subsequent events rather than by good intentions.
“Gen. Beauregard has, in this case, by approving and continuing the order (Gen. Colston’s) assumed the responsibility of the act. —J. D. June 16th, 1864.”
