History of Kershaw's Brigade / With Complete Roll of Companies, Biographical Sketches, Incidents, Anecdotes, etc.

The next day was devoted to the burying of the dead and gathering such rest as was possible. It was my misfortune to be wounded near the close of the engagement, in a few feet of where lay the lamented Colonel Nance. The regiment in some way became doubled up somewhat on the center, perhaps in giving way for the Second to come in, and here lay the dead in greater numbers than it was ever my fortune to see, not even before the stone wall at Fredericksburg.

In rear of this the surgeons had stretched their great hospital tents, over which the yellow flag floated. The surgeons and assistant surgeons never get their meed of praise in summing up the "news of the battle." The latter follow close upon the line of battle and give such temporary relief to the bleeding soldiers as will enable them to reach the field hospital. The yellow flag does not always protect the surgeons and their assistants, as shells scream and burst overhead as the tide of battle rolls backward and forward. Not a moment of rest or sleep do these faithful servants of the army get until every wound is dressed and the hundred of arms and legs amputated, with that skill and caution for which the army surgeons are so proverbially noted. With the same dispatch are those, who are able to be moved, bundled off to some city hospital in the rear.

In a large fly-tent, near the roadside, lay dying the Northern millionaire, General Wadsworth. The Confederates had been as careful of his wants and respectful to his station as if he had been one of their own Generals. I went in to look at the General who could command more ready gold than the Confederate States had in its treasury. His hat had been placed over his face, and as I raised it, his heavy breathing, his eyes closed, his cold, clammy face showed that the end was near. There lay dying the multi-millionaire in an enemy's country, not a friend near to hear his last farewell or soothe his last moments by a friendly touch on the pallid brow. Still he, like all soldiers on either side, died for what he thought was right.

Hospital trains had been run up to the nearest railroad station in the [353] rear, bringing those ministering angels of mercy the "Citizens' Relief Corps," composed of the best matrons and maidens of Richmond, led by the old men of the city. They brought crutches by the hundreds and bandages by the bolt. Every delicacy that the, South afforded these noble dames of Virginia had at the disposal of the wounded soldiers. How many thousands of Confederate soldiers have cause to bless these noble women of Virginia. They were the spartan mothers and sisters of the South.

COLONEL JAMES D. NANCE.

I do not think I would be accused of being partial in saying that Colonel Nance was the best all round soldier in Kershaw's Brigade, none excepted. I have no allusion to the man, but the soldier alone. Neither do I refer to qualities of courage, for all were brave, but to efficiency. First to recommend him was his military education and training. He was a thorough tactician and disciplinarian, and was only equaled in this respect by General Connor. In battle he was ever cool and collected—he was vigilant, aggressive, and brave. Never for a moment was he thrown off his base or lost his head under the most trying emergencies. His evolution in changing the front of his regiment from columns of fours to a line of battle on Mayree's Hill, under a galling fire from artillery and musketry, won the admiration of all who witnessed it. Socially, he had the manners of a woman—quiet, unassuming, tender of heart, and of refined feelings. On duty—the march or in battle—he was strict and exacting, almost to sternness. He never sought comfort or the welfare of himself—the interest, the safety, the well being of his men seemed to be his ruling aim and ambition.

I append a short sketch of Colonel Nance taken from Dr. Barksdale's book, "Eminent and Representative Men of the Carolinas:"

"Colonel James Drayton Nance, the subject of this sketch, Was born in Newberry, S.C., October 10th, 1837, and was the son of Drayton and Lucy (Williams) Nance. He received his school education at Newberry, and was graduated from the Citadel Military Academy, at Charleston. In 1859 he was admitted to the bar and began the practice of law at Newberry.

"When the State seceded from the Union, December, 1860, and volunteers for her defense were called for, he was unanimously elected Captain of 'The Quitman Rifles,' an infantry company formed at Newberry, and afterwards incorporated into the Third Regiment, South Carolina Volunteers. With his company he was mustered into the Confederate service at Columbia in April, 1861, and was in command of the company at the first battle of Manassas and in the Peninsula campaign in Virginia.

"On May 16th, 1862, upon the reorganization of the Third Regiment, he was chosen its Colonel, a position which he filled until his death. As Colonel, he commanded the regiment in the various battles around Richmond, June and July, 1862, Second Manassas, Maryland Heights, Sharpsburg, Fredericksburg (where he was severely wounded), Gettysburg, Chickamauga, Knoxville, and the Wilderness, where on the 6th of May, 1864, he was instantly killed. His body was brought home and interred at Newberry with fitting honors. He was a brave, brilliant young officer, possessing the confidence and high regard of his command in an extraordinary degree, and had he lived, would have risen to higher rank and honor. His valuable services and splended qualities and achievements in battle and in council were noted and appreciated, as evidenced by the fact that at the time of his death a commission of Brigadier General had been, decided upon as his just due for meritorious conduct.

"At the age of seventeen he professed religion and united with the Baptist Church at Newberry, and from that time to his death was distinguished for his Christian consistency."

LIEUTENANT COLONEL FRANKLIN GAILLARD.

Lieutenant Colonel Franklin Gaillard is not known to fame by his military record alone, but was known and admired all over the State as the writer of the fiery editorials in the "Carolinian," a paper published in Columbia during the days just preceding Secession, and noted for its ardent State Rights sentiment. These eloquent, forcible, and fearless discussions of the questions of the day by young Gaillard was a potent factor in shaping the course of public sentiment and rousing the people to duty and action, from the Mountains to the Sea. Through the columns of this paper, then the leading one in the State, [355] he paved the way and prepared the people for the great struggle soon to take place, stimulating them to an enthusiasm almost boundless.

He was in after years as fearless and bold with the sword as he had been with the pen. He was not the man to turn his back upon his countrymen, whose warlike passions he had aroused, when the time for action came. He led them to the fray—a paladin with the pen, a Bayard with the sword. He was an accomplished gentleman, a brave soldier, a trusted and impartial officer, a peer of any in Kershaw's Brigade.

Colonel Gaillard was born in 1829, in the village of Pineville, in the present County of Berkeley. In his early childhood his father, Thomas Gaillard, removed to Alabama. But not long thereafter Franklin returned to this State, to the home of his uncle, David Gaillard, of Fairfield County. Here he attended the Mount Zion Academy, in Winnsboro under the distinguished administration of J.W. Hudson. In the fall of 1846 he entered the South Carolina College, and graduated with honor in the class of 1849, being valedictorian of the class. Shortly after graduation, in company with friends and relatives from this State and Alabama, he went to California in search of the "yellow metal," the find of which, at that time, was electrifying the young men throughout the States.

After two or three years of indifferent success, he returned to this State once more, making his home with his uncle, in Winnsboro. In 1853 (or thereabout) he became the proprietor of the "Winnsboro Register," and continued to conduct this journal, as editor and proprietor, until 1857, when he was called to Columbia as editor of the "Carolinian," then owned by Dr. Robert W. Gibbes, of Richland, and was filling that position at the time of the call to arms, in 1861, when he entered the service in Captain Casson's Company, as a Lieutenant, and became a member of the renowned Second Regiment.

In March, 1853, he was married to Miss Catherine C. Porcher, of Charleston, but this union was terminated in a few years by the death of the wife. Colonel Gaillard left two children, one son and one daughter, who still survive, the son a distinguished physician, of Texas, and the daughter the wife of Preston S. Brooks, son of the famous statesman of that name, now of Tennessee.

Colonel Gaillard was a descendant of a French Huguenot emigrant, who, with many others, settled in this State after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, in 1685.

CHAPTER XXX

How many times, as soldiers, have we crossed this stream, and little did we imagine in crossing that on its banks we would be called upon to meet the enemy. "Man proposes, but God disposes." In may, 1864, after the battles of the Wilderness, Brock's Road, and Spottsylvania—stop a minute and think of these battles—don't you recall how, on that midnight of the 5th day of May, 1864, the order came, "Form your regiments," and then the order came to march? Through the woods we went. The stars shown so brightly. The hooting of the owls was our only music. The young Colonel at the head of his regiment would sing, in his quiet way, snatches of the hymns he had heard the village choir sing so often and so sweetly, and then "Hear me Norma." His mind was clear; he had made up his determination to face the day of battle, with a calm confidence in the power of the God he trusted and in the wisdom of His decrees. The Adjutant rode silently by his side. At length daylight appears. We have at last struck in our march [357] the plank road. The sun begins to rise, when all of a sudden we hear the roll of musketry. The armies are at work. General Lee has ridden up the plank road with his First Lieutenant, the tried, brave old soldier, Longstreet.

Nance has fallen, pierced by five balls, but we knew it not. Every hand is full. Presently, our four companies came up, so gallantly they looked as they came. Promptly filling up the broken line, we now move forward once more, never to fall back. We have Nance's body. The wild flowers around about him look so beautiful and sweet, and some of them are plucked by his friend to send to his sister, Mrs. Baxter.

But go back to the fight. It rages wildly all around. Presently, a crash comes from the right. It is Longstreet at the head of the flanking column, and then Hancock is swept from the field in front. Joy is upon us. Hastily Longstreet rides to the front. Then a volley and he falls, not dead, but so shattered that it will be months before we see him again. Then comes the peerless chieftain, Lee, and he orders the pursuing columns to halt. A line of hastily constructed fieldworks arise. A shout—such a shout rolls from right to left of Lee's lines. It has a meaning, and that meaning is that Grant's advance is baffled! But the Federal commander is not to be shut off. If he cannot advance one way, he will another. Hence, the parallel lines are started—the farther he stretches to our right, we must stretch also.

So now comes the affair at Brock's Road, on the 8th of May. 1864. As before remarked, Grant commenced his attempt at a flank movement, by means of an extension of his columns parallel to ours, hoping to meet some opening through which he might pour a torrent of armed men. Early in the morning of the 8th of May, 1864, we are aroused and begin our march. Soon we see an old Virginia gentleman, bareheaded and without his shoes, riding in haste towards us. He reports that our cavalry are holding the enemy back on Brock's Road, but that the Federal infantry are seen to be forming for the attack, and, of course, our cavalry cannot stand such a pressure. General Kershaw orders us forward in double-quick. Still we are not then. Then it was that a gallant cavalryman rushes to us and said, "Run for our rail piles; the Federal infantry will reach them first, if you don't run." Our men sprang forward as if by magic. We occupy the rail piles in time to see a column, a gallant column, moving towards us, about sixty yards away. [358] Fire, deadening fire, is poured into that column by our men. A gallant Federal officer rides just in rear, directing the movement. "Pick that officer off of his horse," is the command given to two or three of our cool marksmen. He falls. The column staggers and then falls back. Once more they come to time. We are better prepared for them.

Right here let me state a funny occurrence. Sim Price observed old man John Duckett, in the excitement, shooting his rifle high over the heads of the Yankees. This was too much for Sim Price, and he said, "Good God, John Duckett, are you shooting at the moon?"

Here is the gallant J.E.B. Stuart, Lieutenant General, commanding the cavalry of the Army of Northern Virginia, with hat off, waiving it in an enthusiastic cheering of the gallant men of the old Third. Well he may, for the line they held on that day was that adopted by General Lee for the famous Spottsylvania battle.

Just prior to the battle of Spottsylvania Court House, which was fought on the 12th of May, 1864, sharpshooters were posted in trees in the woods, and kept up a pretty constant fusilade when any head showed itself. It is recalled that when Major R.P. Todd returned to our command an officer, eager to hear from his home in South Carolina, entered a little fly-tent with Todd, and presently one of these sharpshooters put a ball through this tent, between the heads of the two. Maybe they didn't move quickly. Here it was, that lest a night attack might be made, one-third of the men were kept in the trenches all the time, day and night. One of these nights, possibly the 11th of May, a staff officer stole quietly where the Colonel and Adjutant were lying and whispered, "It is thought that the enemy have gotten betwixt our out posts and the breastworks and intend to make a night attack. So awaken the soldiers and put every man in the trenches." The Colonel went to one end of the line and the Adjutant to the other, and soon had our trenches manned. The Colonel was observed full of laughter, and when questioned, stated that on going to the left wing of the regiment to awaken the men, he came across a soldier with some small branches kindled into a blaze, making himself a cup of coffee. He spoke to the soldier, saying:

"Who is that?"

The soldier replied, not recognizing the Colonel's voice: "Who in the h——l are you?"

The Colonel said: "Don't you know the Yankees are between the pickets and the breastworks, and will soon attack our whole line?"

He reported the man at these words, saying: "The Jesus Christ, Colonel!" rolling as he spoke, and he never stopped rolling until he fell into the pit at the works. Never was a revolution in sentiment and action more quickly wrought than on this occasion with this soldier.

It is needless to speak of the battle of Spottsylvania Court House, except to remark that here our comrades of McGowan's Brigade showed of what stuff they were made, and by their gallantry and stubborn fighting, saved the day for General Lee.

Soon after this battle General Grant, though baffled by its result, renewed his effort to reach Richmond. By a rapid march, General Lee was before Grant's columns at the North Anna River. Here we hoped the enemy would attack us. On the South side of this river, on the road leading to Hanover Junction, good heavy works had been completed, while a fort of inferior proportions on the North side was intended to protect the bridge across the river from raiding parties of the enemy. To our surprise, when the part of our army that was designed to cross the river at this point, had crossed over, the Third Regiment, James' Battalion, and the Seventh Regiment were left behind about this fort. We had no idea that anything serious was intended; but after awhile it leaked out that General Lee needed some time to complete a line of works from one point of the river to another on the same stream, on the South side, and that it was intended that the bare handful of men with us were intended to hold the approach to the bridge in face of the tens of thousands of Grant's Army in our front. Trying to realize the task assigned us, positions were assigned the different forces with us. It was seen that the Seventh Regiment, when stretched to the left of the fort, could not occupy, even by a thin line, the territory near them. We were promised the co-operation of artillery just on the other side of the river. Presently the attack opened on the right and center, but this attack we repulsed. Again the same points were assailed, with a like result. Then the attack was made on our left, [360] and although the Seventh Regiment did its whole duty, gradually our left was seen to give way. This emboldened the enemy to press our right and center again, but they were firm. It was manifest now that the enemy would soon be in our rear, and as the sun was sinking to rest in the West, we made a bold dash to cross the river in our rear, bringing down upon us the enemy's artillery fire of shot and shell, as well as musketry. It looked hard to tell which way across the river was best—whether by way of the bridge, or to wade across. It was said our Lieutenant Colonel, who was on foot when reaching the opposite bank, and finding his boots full of water, said to a soldier: "Tom, give me your hand." "No, no, Major," was the reply; "this is no time for giving hands." The ascent of the long bill on the South side was made under the heavy fire of the enemy. When at its height, a stuttering soldier proposed to a comrade to lay down and let him get behind him. Of course the proposition was declined without thanks. When we reformed at the top of the hill, there was quite a fund of jokes told. Amongst others, the one last stated, Tom Paysinger said: "Nels., if I had been there, I would have killed myself laughing." Whereupon, the stutterer said: "T-T-Tom Paysinger, I saw a heap of men down there, but not one that laughed."

War has its humorous as well as its serious side, and many a joke was cracked in battle, or if not mentioned then, the joke was told soon afterwards. It is recalled just here that in this battle an officer, who had escaped being wounded up to that time, was painfully wounded. When being borne on the way to the rear on a stretcher, he was heard to exclaim: "Oh! that I had been a good man. Oh! that I had listened to my mother." When he returned to the army, many a laugh was had at his expense when these expressions would be reported. But the officer got even with one of his tormentors, who was one of the bearers of the litter upon which the officer was borne away, for while this young man was at his best in imitating the words and tone of the wounded man, he was suddenly arrested by the words: "Yes, I remember when a shell burst pretty close you forgot me, and dropped your end of the litter." The laugh was turned. All this, however, was in perfect good humor.

It has been shown how Kershaw's South Carolina Brigade closed the breach in Lee's Army on the 6th of May, and turned disaster into a glorious victory, and as the 12th of May, at "Bloody Angle," near Spottsylvania Court house, will go down in history as one among the most memorable battles of all time, I wish to show how another gallant South Carolina Brigade (McGowan's) withstood the shock of the greater portion of Grant's Army, and saved Lee's Army from disaster during the greater part of one day. This account is also taken from Captain Caldwell's "History of McGowan's Brigade." Being an active participant, he is well qualified to give a truthful version, and I give in his own language his graphic description of the battle of the "Bloody Angle."

HISTORY OF MCGOWAN'S BRIGADE.

Reaching the summit of an open hill, where stood a little old house, and its surrounding naked orchard, we were fronted and ordered forward on the left of the road.... Now we entered the battle. There were two lines of works before us; the first or inner line, from a hundred and fifty to two hundred yards in front of us; the second or outer line, perhaps a hundred yards beyond it, and parallel to it. There were troops in the outer line, but in the inner one only what appeared to be masses without organization. The enemy were firing in front of the extreme right of the brigade, and their balls came obliquely down our line; but we could not discover, on account of the woods about the point of firing, under what circumstances the battle was held. There was a good deal of doubt as to how far we were to go, or in what direction.... The truth is, the road by which we had come was not at all straight, which made the right of the line front much farther north than the rest, and the fire was too hot for us to wait for the long loose column to close up, so as to make an entirely orderly advance. More than this, there was a death struggle ahead, which must be met instantly. We advanced at a double-quick, cheering loudly, and entered the inner works. Whether by order or tacit understanding, we halted here, except the Twelfth Regiment, which was the right of the brigade. That moved at once to the outer line, and threw itself with its wanted impetuosity into the heart of the battle.... The brigade advanced upon the works. About the time we reached the inner lines, [362] General McGowan was wounded by a minnie ball in the arm, and forced to quit the field. Colonel Brockman, senior Colonel present, was also wounded, and Colonel Brown, of the Fourteenth Regiment, assumed command then or a little later. The four regiments, the First, Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Rifles (the Twelfth had passed on to the outer line), closed up and arranged their lines. Soon the order was given to advance to the outer line. We did so with a cheer and a double-quick, plunging through mud knee deep and getting in as best we could. Here, however, lay Harris' Mississippi Brigade. We were ordered to close to the right. We moved by the flank, up the works, under the fatally accurate firing of the enemy, and ranged ourselves along the entrenchments. The sight we encountered was not calculated to encourage us The trenches dug on the inner side were almost filled with water. Dead men lay on the surface of the ground and in the pools of water. The wounded bled, stretched, and groaned, or huddled in every attitude of pain. The water was crimson with blood. Abandoned knapsacks, guns, and accoutrements, with ammunition boxes, were scattered all around. In the rear disabled caissons stood and limbers of guns. The rain poured heavily, and an incessant fire was kept upon us from front and flank. The enemy still held the works on the right of the angle, and fired across the traverses. Nor were these foes easily seen. They barely raised their heads above the logs at the moment of firing. It was plainly a question of bravery and endurance now.

We entered upon the task with all our might. Some fired at the line lying in our front on the edge of the ridge before described; others kept down the enemy lodged in the traverses on the right. At one or two places Confederates and Federals were only separated by the works, and the latter not a few times reached their guns over and fired right down upon the heads of the former. So continued the painfully unvarying battle for more than two hours. At the end of that time a rumor arose that the enemy was desirous to come in and surrender. Colonel Brown gives the following in his official report: "About two o'clock P.M. the firing ceased along the line, and I observed the enemy, standing up in our front, their colors flying and arms pointing upwards. I called to them to lay down their arms and come in. An [363] officer answered that he was waiting our surrender—that we had raised a white flag, whereupon he had ceased firing. I replied, 'I command here,' and if any flag had been raised it was without authority, and unless he came in, firing would be resumed. He begged a conference, which was granted, and a subordinate officer advanced near the breastwork and informed me that a white flag was flying on my right. He was informed that unless his commander surrendered, the firing would be continued. He started back to his lines, and failing to exhibit his flag of truce, was shot down midway between the lines, which was not more than twenty yards at this point. The firing again commenced with unabating fury." ... The firing was astonishingly accurate all along the line. No man could raise his shoulders above the works without danger of immediate death. Some of the enemy lay against our works in front. I saw several of them jump over and surrender during the relaxation of the firing. An ensign of a Federal regiment came right up to us during the "peace negotiations" and demanded our surrender. Lieutenant Carlisle, of the Thirteenth Regiment, replied that we would not surrender. Then the ensign insisted, as he had come under a false impression, he should be allowed to return to his command. Lieutenant Carlisle, pleased with his composure, consented. But as he went away a man from another part of the line shot him through the face, and he came and jumped over to us. This was the place to test individual courage. Some ordinarily good soldiers did next to nothing, while others excelled themselves. The question became pretty plainly, whether one was willing to meet death, not merely to run the chances of it. There was no further cessation of fire, after the pause before described. Every now and then a regular volley would be hurled at us from what we supposed a fresh line of Federals, but it would gradually tone down to the slow, particular, fatal firing of the siege. The prisoners who ran into us now and then informed us that Grant's whole energies were directed against this point. They represented the wood on the other side as filled with dead, wounded fighters, and skulkers. We were told that if we would hold the place till dark, we would be relieved. Dark came, but no relief. The water became a deeper crimson, the corpses grew more numerous. Every tree about us, for thirty feet from the ground, [364] was marked by balls. Just before night a tree six or eight inches in diameter, just behind the works, was cut down by the bullets of the enemy. We noticed at the same time a large oak hacked and torn in such a manner never before seen. Some predicted its fall before morning, but the most of us considered that out of the question. But about 10 o'clock it did fall forward on our works, wounding some men and startling a great many more. An officer, who afterwards measured this tree, informed me that it was twenty-two inches in diameter. This was entirely the work of rifle balls. Midnight came, still no relief; no cessation of the firing. Numbers of the troops sank, overpowered, into the muddy trenches and slept soundly. The rain continued. Just before daylight we were ordered, in a whisper, which was passed along the line, to slowly and noiselessly retire from the works.... Day dawned, and the evacuation was complete.

Thus ended one of the most stubbornly contested battles of the war, if not of the century. The whole army, from one end to the other, sung the praises of the gallant South Carolinians, who, by their deeds of valor, made immortal the "Bloody Angle."

CHAPTER XXXI

It was while entrenched south of North Anna that our troops heard of the death of our great cavalry leader, General J.E.B. Stuart, who fell mortally wounded at Yellow Tavern, on May the 18th. If the death of Jackson was a blow to the army and the South, the death of Stuart was equally so. He was the Murat of the Southern Army, equally admired and beloved by the infantry as the cavalry. The body of the army always felt safe when the bugle of Stuart could be heard on the flank or front, and universal sadness was thrown around the Army of Northern Virginia, as well as the whole South, by his death. It was conceded [365] by the North, as well as the South, that Stuart was the finest type of cavalry leader in either army, Longstreet badly wounded, Stuart and Jenkins dead, certainly gave the prospects of the campaign just opening anything but an assuring outlook.

TWENTIETH SOUTH CAROLINA REGIMENT.

About this time our brigade was reinforced by the Twentieth South Carolina Regiment, one of the finest bodies of men that South Carolina had furnished during the war. It was between one thousand and one thousand two hundred strong, led by the "silver-tongued orator," Lawrence M. Keitt. It was quite an acceptable acquisition to our brigade, since our ranks had been depleted by near one thousand since the 6th of May. They were as healthy, well clad, and well fed body of troops as anybody would wish to see, and much good-humored badgering was indulged in at their expense by Kershaw's "web feet." From their enormous strength in numbers, in comparison to our "corporal guards" of companies, the old soldiers called them "The Twentieth Army Corps." I here give a short sketch of the regiment prior to its connection with the brigade.

The Twentieth Regiment was organized under the call for twelve thousand additional troops from South Carolina, in 1862, along with the Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth, Holcomb Legion, and other regiments. The companies composing the Twentieth assembled at the race course, in Charleston, S.C., in the fall of 1862. The companies had already organized in the respective counties, and elected officers, and after assembling in Charleston and organizing the regiment, elected the following field officers:

Captain Jno. P. Kinard, of Company F, was made Quartermaster, and First Lieutenant Jno. M. Kinard was promoted to Captain.

A singularity of one of the companies, I, was that it had twenty-eight members by the name of Gunter. The Captain and all three Lieutenants and seven non-commissioned officers were of the name of Gunter, and it is needless to add that it was called the Gunter Company.

Colonel Keitt, acting as Brigadier General while in Charleston, the entire management of the regiment was left to Lieutenant Colonel Dansler. He was a fine officer, a good tactician, and thorough disciplinarian. A courteous gentleman, kind and sociable to all, he was greatly beloved by officers and men, and it was with feelings of universal regret the regiment was forced to give him up, he having resigned in the spring of 1864, to accept the position of Colonel of the Twenty-Second Regiment.

The regiment remained at the race course for several months, for drill and instruction. In February, 1863, they were moved to the west end of James' Island, near Secessionville, for guard and picket duty. After this, they were transferred to Sullivan's Island, and quartered in the old Moultrie House and cottages adjacent. Four companies were ordered to Battery Marshall, on the east side of the Island, to assist in the management of the siege guns at that point.

On the 7th of May the Federal gunboats crossed the bar and made an attack upon Forts Sumter, Moultrie, and the batteries on Morris' Island. Here the regiment was subjected to a heavy cannonading from the three hundred pounders from the Federal ironclads. Colonel Dansler, however, moved the regiment to the east, in the sandhills, thus avoiding the direct fire of the enemy. One of the ironclads was [367] sunk and others badly crippled, drawing off after dark. In December eight companies were moved over to Mt. Pleasant and two to Kinloch's Landing.

During the memorable siege of Morris' Island, the Twentieth did its turn at picketing on that island, going over after dark in a steamer and returning before day.

On the night of the 30th July, 1863, while the regiment was returning from Morris' Island, the tide being low, the steamer Sumter, on which the regiment was being transported, was forced to take the main ocean channel. It was the duty of those on garrison duty at Fort Sumter to signal Moultrie and the shore batteries of the movements of the transport steamer. For some cause or other Sumter failed to give the signals, and Moultrie being aware that there was a steamer in the harbor and no signals up, opened upon the ill-fated steamer with all her guns, thinking it one of the enemy's ironclads. This was a signal for the shore batteries to open their guns, and in a few moments shells came crashing through the decks and cabins of the crowded steamer from all sides. This created a panic among the troops, and had it not been for the self-possession and coolness of the captain of the steamer, the loss of life would have been appalling. The captain turned his boat and beached it as soon as possible, not, however, before the men began leaping over the sides of the vessel in one grand pell-mell. The dark waves of unknown death were below them, while the shells shrieked and burst through the steamer. There was but little choice for the panic stricken men. Fortunately the waters here were shallow enough for the men to touch bottom and wade out, some to Fort Johnson, some to Fort Sumter, while others remained in the shallows until relieved by small boats from shore. The regiment lost sixteen men, either killed or drowned.

On the 16th or 18th of May, 1864, the regiment was ordered to Virginia, and reached Richmond about the twenty-second, and was ordered to join Kershaw's Brigade, reaching it about the 28th of May, near South Anna River.

After the resignation of Lieutenant Colonel Dansler, Major Boykin was promoted to that position, and Captain Partlow made Major. By the death of Colonel Keitt, Boykin and Partlow were raised in regular grade, and Captain McMichael made Major. Lieutenant Colonel Partlow [368] was wounded at Deep Bottom soon after this, and did Hot return to duty until near the close of the war. Colonel Boykin and Major McMichael were both captured at Cedar Creek, and neither returned until after peace was declared. The regiment was commanded during the remainder of the service, with short exceptions, by Captain Leaphart.

Colonel Keitt being senior Colonel now in the brigade, was placed in command. It was unfortunate for Colonel Keitt and his command, being transferred to our army just at the moment it was in one of the most active and vigorous campaigns of the war. The men were ill-prepared to meet the requirements expected of soldiers, to undergo forced marches in the burning heat of summer, to accustom themselves so suddenly to the scant and badly-prepared food, night pickets in the open, in face of the enemy, and all the hardships incident to a soldier's life in the field. These troops had seen but little of real service, having only done garrison duty around Charleston, quartered in barracks or good tents, while now they had to take the field, with no advantage of the veterans, in the way of supplies and in accommodations, and with none of their experience and strength of endurance. They had all the courage of the veteran troops, but lacked acclimation. Their company discipline was well enough, and had excellent company and field officers, but were sadly deficient in regimental and brigade drill. It is doubtful if either their commander or any of their field officers had ever been in brigade drill or executed a maneuver in a larger body than a regiment. Like all new troops in the field, they had overloaded themselves with baggage, and being thus overloaded, straggling was universal in the regiment, until they became endured to the fatigues and hardships of the march. Had they come out two or three months earlier, and taken on the ways and customs of the soldier in the field, it would have been much better. Still they deserve the highest degree of praise for their self-denials, their endurance, and fortitude in the march and in battle. The necessity of the occasion caused them to learn rapidly the intricacies in the life of the veteran, and their action in battle in a few days after their arrival, stamped them as a gallant body of men.

On the night of the 31st of May orders came to prepare to march. Grant had withdrawn from our front, and was still rolling along on Lee's [369] right. Both armies were now moving in the direction of Cold Harbor, where McClellan, two years before, had tried to stay the flight of his troops and to check the victorious march of Jackson, Hill, and Longstreet. Now Grant was tempting fate by moving his beaten troops to this ill-fated field, there to try conclusions with McClellan's old antagonist.

The Federals were moving with rapid gait to this strategic point, but Lee having the inner line, was first on the field. It must be borne in mind that since the 4th of May the army had been idle scarcely a day. From that day to the 1st of June it had been one continual battle. If the infantry was not engaged, it was the artillery that kept hammering away, while Stuart's Cavalry hovered around the flanks and rear of the enemy, ready at a moment to swoop like an eagle upon his prey. We were continually under arms, either on a forced march night and day, checking the enemy here, baffling him there, driving back his advance lines, or assaulting his skirmishers. At night the sound of the enemy's drums mingled with that of our own, while the crack of the rifles in the sharpshooters' pits was almost continuous. Early on the morning of June 1st Kershaw's Brigade was aroused and put on the march at a rapid pace in a southeasterly direction.

When nearing the old battlefield of Cold Harbor the men began to snuff the scent of battle. Cartridge boxes were examined, guns unslung, and bayonets fixed, while the ranks were being rapidly closed up. After some delay and confusion, a line of battle was formed along an old roadway. Colonel Keitt had never before handled such a body of troops in the open field, and his pressing orders to find the enemy only added perplexity to his other difficulties. Every man in ranks knew that he was being led by one of the most gifted and gallant men in the South, but every old soldier felt and saw at a glance his inexperience and want of self-control. Colonel Keitt showed no want of aggressiveness and boldness, but he was preparing for battle like in the days of Alva or Turenne, and to cut his way through like a storm center.

As soon as the line was formed the order of advance was given, with never so much as a skirmish line in front. Keitt led his men like a knight of old—mounted upon his superb iron-gray, and looked the [370] embodiment of the true chevalier that he was. Never before in our experience had the brigade been led in deliberate battle by its commander on horseback, and it was perhaps Colonel Keitt's want of experience that induced him to take this fatal step. Across a large old field the brigade swept towards a densely timbered piece of oakland, studded with undergrowth, crowding and swaying in irregular lines, the enemy's skirmishers pounding away at us as we advanced. Colonel Keitt was a fine target for the sharpshooters, and fell before the troops reached the timber, a martyr to the inexorable laws of the army rank. Into the dark recesses of the woods the troops plunged, creeping and crowding their way through the tangled mass of undergrowth, groups seeking shelter behind the larger trees, while the firing was going on from both sides. The enemy meeting our advance in a solid regular column, our broken and disorganized ranks could not cope with them. Some of the regimental officers seeing the disadvantage at which our troops were fighting, ordered a withdrawal to the old roadway in our rear. The dense smoke settling in the woods, shielded our retreat and we returned to our starting point without further molestation than the whizzing of the enemy's bullets overhead. The lines were reformed, and Colonel Davis, of the Fifteenth, assumed command (or perhaps Colonel Henagan).

Colonel William Wallace, of the Second, in speaking of this affair, says:

"Our brigade, under the command of the lamented Colonel Keitt, was sent out to reconnoitre, and came upon the enemy in large force, strongly entrenched. Keitt was killed, and the brigade suffered severely. A few skirmishers thrown out would have accomplished the object of a reconnoissance, and would have saved the loss of many brave men. Our troops finding the enemy entrenched, fell back and began to fortify. Soon our line was established, and the usual skirmishing and sharpshooting commenced. That same evening, being on the extreme left of Kershaw's Division, I received orders to hasten with the Second Regiment to General Kershaw's headquarters. I found the General in a good deal of excitement. He informed me that our lines had been broken on the right of his division, and directed me to hasten there, and if I found a regiment of the enemy flanking his position, to charge them. I hurried to the point indicated, found that [371] our troops to the extent of a brigade and a half had been, driven from their works, and the enemy in possession of them. I determined to charge, however, and succeeded in driving them from their position, with but little loss. Our regiment numbered one hundred and twenty-seven men. The enemy driven out consisted of the Forty-eighth and One Hundred and Twelfth New York. We captured the colors of the Forty-eighth, took some prisoners, and killed many while making their escape from the trenches. We lost in this charge one of our most efficient officers, Captain Ralph Elliott, a brother of General Stephen Elliott. He was a brave soldier and a most estimable gentleman."

Our lines were formed at right angles to that on which we had fought that day, and the soldiers were ordered to fortify. The Second and Third on the left were on an incline leading to a ravine in front of a thicket; the Fifteenth and Twentieth, on the right of the Third, were on the brow of a plateau; in front was the broad old field, through which we had marched to the first advance; the Third Battalion, Eighth, and Seventh, on extreme right, were on the plateau and fronted by a thicket of tall pines.

As nearly all regimental commanders had been killed since the 6th of May, I will give them as they existed on the 1st of June, three weeks later:

Grant stretched his lines across our front and began approaching our works with his formidable parallels. He would erect one line of breastworks, then under cover of night, another a hundred or two yards nearer us; thus by the third of June our lines were not one hundred yards apart in places. Our pickets and those of the enemy were between the lines down in their pits, with some brush in front to shield them while on the look out. The least shadow or moving of the branches would be sure to bring a rifle ball singing dangerously near one's head—if he escaped it at all. The service in the pits here for two [372] weeks was the most enormous and fatiguing of any in the service—four men being in a pit for twenty-four hours in the broiling sun during the day, without any protection whatever, and the pit was so small that one could neither sit erect nor lie down.

Early on the morning of the 3rd of June, just three days after our fiasco at Cold Harbor, Grant moved his forces for the assault. This was to be the culmination of his plan to break through Lee's lines or to change his plans of campaign and settle down to a regular siege. Away to our right the battle commenced. Heavy shelling on both sides. Then the musketry began to roll along in a regular wave, coming nearer and nearer as new columns moved to the assault. Now it reaches our front, and the enemy moves steadily upon our works. The cheering on our right told of the repulse by our forces, and had a discouraging effect upon the Federal troops moving against us. As soon as their skirmish line made its appearance, followed by three lines of battle, our pickets in front of us were relieved, but many fell before gaining our breastworks, and those who were not killed had to lie during the day between the most murderous fire in the history of the war, and sad to say, few survived. When near us the first line came with a rush at charge bayonets, and our officers had great difficulty in restraining the men from opening fire too soon. But when close enough, the word "fire" was given, and the men behind the works raised deliberately, resting their guns upon the works, and fired volley after volley into the rushing but disorganized ranks of the enemy. The first line reeled and attempted to fly the field, but were met by the next column, which halted the retreating troops with the bayonet, butts of guns, and officers' sword, until the greater number were turned to the second assault. All this while our sharpshooters and men behind our works were pouring a galling fire into the tangled mass of advancing and retreating troops. The double column, like the first, came with a shout, a huzzah, and a charge. But our men had by this time reloaded their pieces, and were only too eager awaiting the command "fire." But when it did come the result was telling—men falling on top of men, rear rank pushing forward the first rank, only to be swept away like chaff. Our batteries on the hills in rear and those mounted on our [373] infantry line were raking the field, the former with shell and solid shot, the latter with grape and canister. Smoke settling on the ground, soon rendered objects in front scarcely visible, but the steady flashing of the enemy's guns and the hail of bullets over our heads and against our works told plainly enough that the enemy were standing to their work with desperate courage, or were held in hand with a powerful grasp of discipline. The third line of assault had now mingled with the first two, and all lying stretched upon the ground and hidden by the dense smoke, caused the greater number of our bullets to fly over their heads. Our elevated position and the necessity of rising above the works to fire, rendered our breastworks of little real advantage; considering, too, the disparity of numbers, then three lines against our one, and a very weak line at that. The loud Rebel yell heard far to our right told us to be of good cheer, they were holding their own, and repulsing every assault. The conflict in front of Breckenridge's Division was the bloodiest, with the possible exception of that of Mayree's Hill, in front of Fredericksburg, and the "Bloody Angle," of any during the war. Negro troops were huddled together and forced to the charge by white troops—the poor, deluded, unfortunate beings plied with liquor until all their sensibilities were so deadened that death had no horrors. Grant must have learned early in the day the impossibility of breaking Lee's line by direct charge, for by twelve o'clock the firing ceased.

This last assault of Grant's thoroughly convinced the hero of Vicksburg and Missionary Ridge of the impossibility of breaking Lee's lines by direct advances. He could not surprise him at any point, or catch him off his guard, for Lee knew every foot of the ground too well, having fought all over if for two years. It was estimated and confirmed afterwards by official reports, that Grant had lost sixty thousand men from his crossing of the Rapidan to the end of the 3rd of June, just thirty days—more men than Lee had in the commencement of the campaign. Grant had become wiser the more familiar he became with Lee and his veterans, and now began to put in new tactics—that of stretching out his lines so as to weaken Lee's, and let attrition do the work that shells, balls, and the bayonet had failed to accomplish. The end showed the wisdom of the plan.