Leaving my prisoner with them, I started forward again.

We soon reached an abrupt rise of ground beyond which we could not advance. Before us was the left of the enemy's intrenched position. We had done our work. We had driven every thing before us, and others must face the storm now. Some kneeling, others lying flat on the ground, we continued to fire and waited for the line of battle. In a few minutes we could see them coming on through the woods. A short distance behind us was a small patch of swampy, boggy ground. As this was approached orders were given and executed as coolly as if on the parade ground. The portion of the line opposite the swamp folded back of the other toward the left, and when the ground was pa.s.sed, went back to place again without the least delay or confusion.

As they moved up the bank upon which we were, a volley burst upon them before which they wavered and swerved backward a few paces, as here and there a man reeled and staggered or sank to the earth. There was no panic--not a back turned--only that instinctive shrinking which Life sometimes feels when Death unexpectedly thrusts out his ghastly face through the smoke of battle. A color-bearer sprang forward with the battle-flag. He halted beside me and rested the end of the flagstaff on the ground. He half-faced about toward the men. His voice rang out like a bugle blast, as he raised his arm and shouted:

"Here are your colors!"

The line responded with a yell as it sprang forward, and soon was wrapped in the sulphurous smoke of its volleys which it thundered against the foe.

As the line moved on, I stepped behind them and pa.s.sed farther to the right, and again went out ahead. The "left wheel" which the corps made in this battle resulted naturally from the position of the forces engaged. If we had moved directly forward in the direction in which we started, only the left of the Second Division would have struck the rebel's works; but the men posted in their front, as they were forced back, retreated toward the north-west, and we naturally swung around in following them.

We were now in front of the Third Division, the rebels still contesting every foot of ground. We finally drove them across an open field about a hundred yards wide. A road was on our left; at least all the Bucktails in sight were on the right of the road. A house stood near the road next to the woods, out of which we had driven the rebels, who were now firing from the farther side of the field. We were crossing the field, and some had reached the woods beyond, when the line of battle came up by the house behind us and opened fire. We hurried back to escape their bullets, which we considered more dangerous than those of the enemy. I stood behind them near the house, watching their firing, very much disgusted with the performance. There was a young lady in the house, apparently the only occupant. She was almost wild with fright, and gave vent to her feelings in screams and cries of terror.

A little lieutenant was prancing around back of the line, flourishing his saber in gallant style. He accosted me, and demanded why I was standing back, doing nothing. I replied that I did not belong on his--line, and made some comments perhaps not strictly polite. This added wrath to his excitement. I think this must have been the first time he had smelled gunpowder, except at a distance, and he supposed they were doing grandly. There was no telling how much effort it had cost him to get his courage screwed up sufficiently to bring him thus far; and to have this dirty, mud-bedraggled scrub of a boy intimate that the whole outfit should be furnished with long ears, was too much.

As Homer would say, "his diaphragm became black all over." At this point Captain Birkman appeared on the scene and announced that he was responsible for me. This ended the matter.

After firing awhile, this brigade started to advance across the field.

The regiment on the left moved up in good order as far as the edge of the woods. The others straggled forward in disorder. Both officers and men seemed to be confused. By the time they reached the woods they were little better than a mob, and had to halt to re-form. I think the man in command of the brigade was responsible for this. I now started out to skirmish again, intending to keep in front of the regiment on the left.

As I reached the point where the road entered the woods, I met Mike Coleman coming on a run, and greatly excited.

"Why, Mike, I thought you were kilt! I heard you were shot in the head back yonder."

Scarcely pausing for a reply, he went on:

"We've got them! we've got them! We're right in their rear. We'll take them all! Why don't these men come on?"

With this he hurried back to the men just behind us, and in a breath told them the situation, and urged them to come on without delay. To his great disgust, his appeals were unheeded, and he turned to me saying we would go alone. But now we saw some of the Bucktails coming forward, and soon about twenty of us were deployed at skirmish distance, advancing on the rebel rear. Their line could be seen stretching far to right and left. Our Spencers rattled among the trees as we rained the bullets upon them. They turned on us savagely, and their rifles blazed and flashed in reply. Presently their fire slackened. They right-faced, and began to move off toward the west, at first with some order; but soon they were only a panic-stricken mob, fleeing in all directions, some to the right, some to the left, others toward us. The latter we disarmed and sent to the rear without any guard, and kept up a fire on those who were running to the right. They threw down their guns by hundreds, and surrendered.

Toward the close a rebel soldier came toward me at full speed, with his gun at a trail-arms. I did not notice him until he was within twenty-five or thirty yards of me. I yelled at him to surrender; but he came on without checking his speed. I stepped from the tree by which I was standing, and leveled my rifle on him.

"Drop that gun!" I yelled again.

He dropped it as if it had burned him, and hustled off his accouterments, and threw them on the ground. I made him stay with me, intending to take him back myself. My cartridges were about exhausted, and I fired all but one or two at the rear of the fleeing rebels, and started back with the prisoner.

The sun had now gone down. The moon was shining peacefully. How quickly those fateful hours of battle had pa.s.sed! I started for the point where our line had formed, expecting to dispose of my prisoner there, and then sleep all night. As we pa.s.sed along, the dead lay scattered here and there as they fell. There was something startlingly solemn in those motionless forms, the stony eyes staring in the moonlight.

Beyond the church I found a large number of prisoners, and turned over my man to the guards, and started to return. I was joined by L. C.

Walb, who had also been back with prisoners. The church had been turned into a hospital. It was full of wounded, and many were laid on the ground outside. A few rods past the church we lay down to sleep. There came a reaction after the excitement of the day. Nerves, strained to their utmost tension for hours, relaxed, and seemed to tingle with the pain of weariness. The jarring noises of battle were reproduced as the senses glided through that strange interval between waking and sleeping, and more than once I came back to consciousness with a start, scarcely able, for a moment, to distinguish the real and the unreal. A low, moaning sound came from the hundreds of wounded about the church; not any single groan or cry of pain, but only a sound as if the hurried breath from suffering lips smote upon the strings of an unseen harp, which sounded out its sad cadences through the air. But at last I sunk into a sound sleep.

Our losses were less severe than on the preceding day. Eight hundred and thirty-four were killed and wounded, and fifty-four were missing. The opposing force of the enemy was practically annihilated. Three thousand were killed and wounded, and five thousand five hundred were made prisoners. Eleven stand of colors were taken, and four guns, with their caissons; also wagons and other material.

Captain Birkman, of Company A, says of this battle, in an extract kindly furnished from his diary: "The most successful attack I ever witnessed."

It was a decisive battle, and settled the fate of the Confederacy. Since leaving camp on the morning of March 29th, three days before, the Fifth Corps had lost nearly one-fourth of its number in battles.

In this engagement the direct a.s.sault was made by the Second Division, the other divisions swinging around on the enemy's left flank and rear.

The Third Brigade first struck, and broke through the rebel works.

Sergeant Huck, with the colors of the One Hundred and Ninety-first, was the first man across the rebel rifle-pits. Colonel Pattee, commanding the first line, was the first mounted officer across, and leaped his horse over the breastwork while the foremost of the a.s.sailants were crowding over. They found themselves in the midst of the panic-stricken rebels, who threw down their arms and surrendered in large numbers. The Maryland brigade struck the rebel position almost at the same time, and with like results. The division then pa.s.sed on down along the rear of the rebel position, doubling them up rapidly, and driving them in confusion.

We have read how the infantry faltered, till General Sheridan led them to the charge. We venture the opinion that this is wholly imaginary.

These two brigades moved upon the rebel works as steadily and swiftly as the nature of the ground would allow. General Sheridan's reputation does not need any artificial bolstering, least of all at the expense of deserving men and officers.

The arbitrary removal of General Warren from the command of the Fifth Corps was unknown to the soldiers until the following morning. We heard only expressions of surprise and disapproval. It must be a cause of regret to all fair-minded men, that he was not allowed to share in this grand success with the men whom he had so long commanded. He was held in high esteem by the private soldiers, who regarded him as a brave and skillful officer.

CHAPTER XIX.

The battle of Five Forks was fought on Sat.u.r.day. Sabbath morning the sun rose bright and clear. When we camped the night before, Walb and myself planned for a substantial night's rest. For the first time since breaking camp, on the night of March 28th, we unpacked our blankets and made a bed. It was after sunrise when we awoke. Far to the right we could hear the low grumble of artillery, sounding like the roar of distant thunder. Since four o'clock in the morning a great battle had been raging in front of Petersburg, from the Appomattox on the right, to Hatcher's Run on the left.

Without waiting for breakfast, we went on to find the regiment. They were camped not far from where the roads crossed which formed the famous "Forks." At an early hour we were in motion, toward the right, where heavy and continuous firing could be distinctly heard. We pa.s.sed by the ground where we had fought the evening before. The rebel dead were strewn far and near, like sheaves of grain in a harvest-field, showing how destructive had been our fire. The One Hundred and Ninetieth was deployed on the flank, and moved parallel to the column, at skirmish distance, about two hundred yards from it.

After marching for some time in the direction of Petersburg, we bore to the left, and about noon we reached the South Side Railroad, near Southerland's Station, and marched some distance along it. Beyond the road we found strong rifle-pits, which the enemy had abandoned. During the day news reached us that the works in front of Petersburg had been taken, and there was general rejoicing. That night we bivouaced near the Appomattox River.

April 3d we moved, at eight in the morning. Some firing was heard on our left, and many prisoners met us as we marched along. We found cannon abandoned in the road, and there was evidence on every hand that the rebels were hard pressed. Our general course was along what is called the river road, though we did not follow it all the time. Our movements and progress had to be governed by the supposed movements of the enemy.

At one time we were deployed as skirmishers, and went down to the river. I do not know the reason of this precaution, but no enemy was found. We camped that night along the road.

April 4th we resumed the march, soon after sunrise. We were short of provisions, and foragers were sent out to secure what could be gathered from the country. I was out in the afternoon. While returning in the evening, after sun-down, I was shot at by some one, when quite near the column. That night we reached the Danville Railroad, near Jettersville, and camped in order of battle, about three miles from Lee's army. For this reason no fires were made. We had been thrown between him and Danville, which he was aiming to reach. Here Lee made a mistake. It was his duty to know of our presence here during the night. He should have attacked us promptly by daylight on the following morning; and, if possible, overwhelmed us before the rest of the army could arrive. There was little if any force confronting him, except the Fifth Corps, not more than twelve thousand men. I think we reached Jettersville in advance of the main body of the cavalry.

The morning of the 5th found us intrenched, and expecting an attack from the enemy. Rebel troops could be seen in the distance, and we supposed they were forming for battle. We stood behind the works waiting. Their skirmishers advanced and opened fire on our outposts. Hour after hour pa.s.sed. At length the Second and Sixth corps arrived, and Lee's opportunity was lost.

April 6th we advanced, at first with some caution. But Lee was in full retreat toward Lynchburg, and we followed. During the day, a body of rebel cavalry made a dash at the wagon train, and we were ordered back to drive them off. We went back about three miles at double-quick. We met quite a number of men who had been skulking with the train, now rushing for the front at full speed. As we witnessed their consternation, we were entirely reconciled to the loss of a few wagons, just to see the "coffee brigade" shaken up. The rebels had been repulsed by our cavalry before we reached the scene. We remained with the train, and camped with it during the night. We marched twenty-nine miles, and arrived within five miles of High Bridge.

On the 7th we still remained with the train. We pa.s.sed a place where a rebel wagon train had been attacked by our cavalry. Ammunition and stores of all kinds were strewn everywhere. Wagon loads of sh.e.l.ls had been emptied out, and lay scattered through the woods.

Some time during the day, we had halted by the road, and, as our rest was quite prolonged, some of the men had fallen asleep. Among others, Captain Birkman was sleeping soundly, perhaps dreaming of the peace that was now almost conquered. The woods were burning, a few rods on our right. The fire at last reached a lot of sh.e.l.ls, which had been thrown from the wagons, to keep them from falling into the hands of the Yankees. They went off with a frightful clatter. The captain bounced from the ground as if a hornet had lifted him. "FALL IN!" he shouted, grasping his sword. Of course, all who were awake comprehended the situation, and prudently lay still, to avoid the flying fragments.

As the truth dawned upon him, the captain at first looked "sold" and disgusted, and then joined in the general laughter.

We halted that night near Prince Edward's Court-house, after a march of eighteen miles. Here we rejoined the brigade.

April 8th we made the most trying march of all. We lost some time by going out of the way, and made frequent halts during the forenoon, as if uncertain of the direction, or suspicious of the movement of the enemy.

About noon we reached Prospect Station, thirteen miles from Farmville.

In the afternoon we settled down to hard marching. We did not halt for supper. The sun went down, night came on, and still we marched on. By nine o'clock conversation had ceased--no breath could be wasted in words. Even "Sport" could no longer muster spirit to crack a joke on any body. You could only hear the "tramp, tramp" of feet, and the occasional clatter of a saber. But there was no grumbling. We knew this was the last forced march. One more blow, and treason would be crushed in the dust. As the column, from time to time, became clogged by some obstruction ahead, and halted for a moment, the men would sink down on the ground, most of them just where they stopped, to catch brief rest for their aching limbs. At such times I would be sound asleep in a moment, and more than once the column was marching on and myself with it when I awoke.

Midnight came, and still we pressed on relentlessly. About one in the morning we saw lights ahead, which indicated that a halt had been made.

Never did rest and sleep seem sweeter, nor a mile seem longer. It required a distinct effort of the will to compel each single step. But at last the task was accomplished. We had marched forty-two miles since sunrise, and lay within striking distance of the enemy.

The company was represented by Dunn, Bovard, Mike Coleman, Sergeant Hasler, and myself. The rest had broken down under the terrible strain and fallen behind. Without removing any thing, I threw myself on the ground, and knew no more until I was aroused at daylight to go on.

Just after sunrise we halted--for breakfast, they said. It was rather a grim sort of a joke. Scarcely one in fifty had any thing to eat. A few had coffee, and fires were made, and we went through the regulation motions of getting breakfast. This done, we started on again.

It soon became evident that the enemy had been brought to bay. The confused noise of battle rang through the air. We had halted in the woods, and stood in the road waiting, sure that the end had come.

Colonel Pattee was on his horse, half faced about toward his men, evidently impatient and eager. An aid gallops up with orders. Colonel Pattee looks happy. He gives his old horse an extra jerk:

"FORWARD! DOUBLE QUICK! MARCH!"

On we go toward the scene of conflict.