Friday, August 5. — Reached Charlotte early in the morning, where we drew one day’s rations. I got hold of a raw onion here, and had a good meal on that, a hard-tack, and some wormy bacon. It tasted good, for I was hungry. Started again for Columbia, one hundred miles distant. We passed through sorghum, cotton and corn-fields, — many of the latter, few of the two former. Reached Columbia at 7 P.M., and were immediately surrounded by friends of the South Carolina regiment that was blown up in the mine, anxious to learn about their friends and relatives. Were marched to the jail, and from what I could see of the town should think it a very pretty one. Passed Wade Hampton’s house. There were beautiful shade trees planted along the street we were marched through. Was quartered on the lower floor in a room with several others.
War diary and letters of Stephen Minot Weld
Thursday, August 4. — Started for Columbia to-day at 6 A.M. Reached Greensboro about noon, and remained there until 6 P.M. It was election day in North Carolina, and this town is looked upon as rather Union in its feeling. Some of the inhabitants seemed to sympathize with us somewhat. Distance from Danville forty-eight miles. Started at 6 P.M. for Charlotte. The engineer and conductor were both drunk, having been celebrating the day (election day); the cars (old cattle cars) were nasty and dirty, the track, a single one-strap rail, in bad condition, and the train an hour behind time. We were to meet the train from the South at a turn-out some miles ahead, and taking everything into consideration, we had about as lively, exciting and unpleasant a ride as I ever hope to indulge in. The train went faster than I have ever been before, so much so that the cars would actually jump from the rail, and yawn and open everywhere. Our destination on this heat was Charlotte, one hundred and ten miles.
Wednesday, August 3. — Remained in the same place. Had a shower which cooled the air somewhat. General Bartlett went to the hospital yesterday. He seemed almost worn out. He is no better to-day. Heard that we were to move to-morrow to Columbia, S. C. Had our usual ration of coarse corn-bread and bacon, and an extra one for to-morrow.
Tuesday, August 2. — Reached Danville at about 6 A.M., it being distant about one hundred and forty-eight miles from Petersburg. We were placed in tobacco warehouses, which constitute here, as in every other place, the military prisons. We have very poor quarters and rations, being thrust into a lousy, dirty room, badly ventilated, and with no conveniences for washing, etc. Passed a very unpleasant day.
(From Horatio D. Jarves to Stephen M. Weld, Senior)
August 2, 1864.
My Dear Mr. Weld, — What was a little uncertain about Steve has been cleared up, and we have had definite news from him. One of our officers conversed with the captain who took him. It appears he and some few men were so run over and trampled upon by the colored troops in their stampede that they could n’t move until too late. It was in between two traverses of the rebel first line. The rebel captain says that Steve and the few men with him held out to the last, and was finally “taken like a soldier with his arms in his hands,” by an overwhelming rush of rebs. He was unhurt, and took it good-naturedly. His enemies could n’t help admiring him. I send you a lot of letters which have come for Steve, and have taken care of his things. I will take measures to send home his horses as soon as possible.
With regards to all your family,
I am yours truly,
H. D. Jarves.
Monday, August 29. — Rumors about that we have suffered a defeat on the Weldon R. R. with a loss of six thousand prisoners, and that Sherman had retreated. One of the men in the yard escaped, and a tunnel was found leading from their barracks.
Monday, August 1. — We started at 4 A.M. and marched to the depot of the Petersburg & Danville R.R. where we were put on cars, and started off for Danville at 6.30 o’clock. All along the road we saw traces of Wilson’s raid. At Burkesville Junction we were delayed until late in the evening, on account of a train having been thrown off the track.
Petersburg, Va., July 31, ’64.
Dear Father, — Am well and uninjured. We start for Andersonville, Ga., to-morrow.
Sunday, July 31. — We started this A.M. and marched through Petersburg, the officers being sandwiched in between the negroes. Colonel Marshall and I were allowed to march with the white troops. We were placed on an island in the Appomattox. Rations were served out late in the afternoon.[1] Spent the night here.
[1] Got wormy bacon, raw onions, and hard-tack, and it was fine.
Saturday, July 30. — We were formed in column of brigade wings, the 2d Brigade leading, under Colonel Marshall. General Bartlett commanded our brigade, Colonel Gould having the right wing, and I the left, consisting of the 21st Massachusetts on the right, the 56th Massachusetts in the centre, and the 100th Pennsylvania on the left. We were in position about three quarters of an hour before the mine was blown up, and while waiting my feelings were anything but pleasant. The officers and men were disappointed and discouraged at having to lead, as we had heard all along that the negroes were to do this, and we had no confidence in Ledlie. He had failed us on several occasions, notably on June 17. At 4.30 A.M. the mine was blown up. It was just early dawn, light enough to distinguish a person a few yards off. The explosion was the grandest spectacle I ever saw. The first I knew of it, was feeling the earth shaking. I looked up and saw a huge mass of earth and flame rising some 50 or 60 feet in the air, almost slowly and majestically, as if a volcano had just opened, followed by an immense volume of smoke rolling out in every direction. The noise was very slight indeed, considering that there were nine tons of powder exploded. The men of the division were stampeded at first, but were soon rallied. We charged, having to go by the flank, as we could only get over in one or two places, and entered the enemy’s pits under a moderately heavy fire. We found an immense hole here, formed by the explosion, some 30 feet deep by 100 long and 40 wide. We were ordered to go to the right of the crater, and here I endeavored to re-form my regiments. The scene inside was horrible. Men were found half buried; some dead, some alive, some with their legs kicking in the air, some with the arms only exposed, and some with every bone in their bodies apparently broken. We held the enemy’s line about three or four hours, capturing some 500 prisoners. When we had been there about four hours, the negro troops charged over, filling our pits and crowding us so that our men could not use their muskets. They made a charge on the enemy in our front, which was repulsed and followed by a countercharge, driving the negroes head over heels on to us, trampling down every one, and adding still more to the confusion. Several negroes were shot down close by me. I was taken prisoner and sent to the rear, where I found several of my men, together with Captain Fay. While on the way, I had to climb a breastwork exposed to our men’s fire. I saw the rebs run up and shoot negro prisoners in front of me. One was shot four times. We were taken to a place about half a mile from Petersburg, and kept there until evening. General Bartlett, Colonel Marshall and Captain Amory arrived about 4 P.M., in a squad that was captured later. We were moved still nearer the city, and camped in an open lot there. Charlie Amory had his boots stolen from under his head while asleep. He was using them as a pillow.
[These notes are written fifty years after the event, but it seems to me as if the whole matter was as vivid and clear as if it had happened yesterday. We started down late that evening and got into the covered way, which was a zigzag trench leading up to our rifle-pits. The rifle-pits had strong abattis trenches and wires and everything else, including chevaux-de-frise, to impede any of the enemy who were charging us. Orders had been given that the trenches were to be filled up with sand-bags, and the abattis removed for a space of 200 yards, so that a regiment could march forward practically in line of battle. This was not done, for when we charged we had to go by the flank, not more than four men at a time, a space only about eight or ten feet having been filled up, and none of the abattis removed. This delayed the advance very much and undoubtedly had a great deal to do with losing us the battle this day. The mine was planned to be blown up at half-past four, but the fuse went out and they had to send men in to unpack the stuff which had been put around the fuse to prevent the force of the powder blowing out the tunnel, which took some time, so that it finally blew up at about half-past six or seven. The minute the mine exploded, a hundred and forty of our guns opened fire from the lines in the rear, shelling the Confederate lines all around on both sides of us. It was a magnificent sight and one never to be forgotten. I never shall forget my mortification while waiting for this mine to blow up. The troops were all standing in line, ready to charge, and bullets fired by sharpshooters and pickets kept zipping over us all the time and the men kept ducking. They were not to blame for this, as the orders were, when we were in the rifle-pits, invariably to duck if they saw a puff of smoke from the other side. This was absolutely necessary, as we lost men every day from their curiosity in peeking up to see what was going on. The minute a cap appeared it was the target for a dozen sharpshooters. Of course we were all nervous, standing there waiting for a charge which we were very uncomfortable about, owing to reasons which I have explained later on, and the men kept ducking as a bullet passed by. I said, “Steady, men, that bullet has gone by you by the time you hear it.” Just then a bullet, which I am convinced was specially meant-for me, went whizzing by me and I at once ducked. Every one laughed and I did not blame them, but a more mortified man than I was never lived.
When the mine did go up, it looked as if this immense cloud of timber, dirt and stones and everything was going to fall right down on us and we involuntarily shrank back. We at once got over this and started to make the charge. When we got to the pits, as I have said, there was no getting over except by a flank. Instead of going over about in line of battle, we moved by the flank through this narrow space, and before I could get over, the firing had become very hot and the dust was knocked up all around my feet all the time as I went over. The neglect to fix the works in our front also had another very bad effect. It broke the regiments all up. The men went over by the flank, scattered along as they could get through, and with almost no organization. As soon as we got into the crater, I did all I could to get my men together, and in some sort of shape for a fight. By that time it was almost impossible to do anything. We were as badly off then as we were in our own pits. There was no head. Our division commander was off on the other side and did not come over with us. General Bartlett was a cripple and had his wooden leg broken, and it was almost impossible to get anything done. I came near having my head knocked off by grape-shot two or three times. Finally the rebels charged on both our flanks. I was packed in there in the midst of the negroes. It was a perfect pandemonium. The negroes charged into the mine, and we were packed in there like sardines in a box. I literally could not raise my arms from my side. Finally, when the Confederates charged, those of the men nearest the rifle-pits next our line got over the line and got away. Luckily most of my men I had formed there, so that they were able to get away and protect our colors.
I got cut off and took refuge in a bomb-proof, as I could not run away, being surrounded on all sides. Pretty soon the rebels yelled, “Come out of there, you Yanks.” I walked out, and the negro who had gone in there with me, and Captain Fay came out also. The negro was touching my side. The rebels were about eight feet from me. They yelled out, “Shoot the nigger, but don’t kill the white man”; and the negro was promptly shot down by my side. They then grabbed my sword and my hat. “Come out of that hat, you Yank!” they yelled; and one of them cried, “What do you ‘uns come down here and fight we ‘uns for?” Then they told me to get over our embankment in their rear, which formed their second line, and I scrambled up, the bullets from our own men striking the dirt on all sides of me. I got over the embankment all right, and was walking to the rear, when I saw a negro soldier ahead of me. Three rebels rushed up to him in succession and shot him through the body. He dropped dead finally at the third shot. It was altogether the most miserable and meanest experience I ever had in my life. You could not fight, you could not give an order, you could not get anything done. Out of the nine regiments in my brigade I was the only regimental commander left alive. The others were all killed outright or mortally wounded. We were sent back about a mile to the rear and camped on a hill that night.
My diary for the year 1864, during the Wilderness Campaign, was carried in my boot-leg and so escaped seizure when I was captured at the mine.]
