The two regiments on the left of the brigade did not suffer so greatly as the others, being protected somewhat by the timber and underbrush in their front. The enemy's dead lay in our front unburied until Grant's further move to the right, then it became our duty to perform those rites.
Colonel Lawrence Massillon Keitt was the second son of George and Mary Magdalene Wannamaker Keitt. He was born on the 4th day of October, 1824, in St. Matthews Parish, Orangeburg District, S.C. He received his early education at Asbury Academy, a flourishing institution near the place of his birth.
In his thirteenth year he entered Mt. Zion College at Winnsboro, Fairfield County, where he spent one year in preparation for the South Carolina College, which he entered in his fourteenth year, graduating third in his class. He read law in Attorney General Bailey's office in Charleston, S.C., and was admitted to the bar as soon as he was of legal age. He opened a law office at Orangeburg, the county seat.
At the first vacancy he was elected a member to the Lower House of the General Assembly of the State, in which body he served until his election to the Lower House of Congress in 1853. He served in that body until December, 1860, when he resigned his seat and returned to South Carolina on the eve of the secession of his State from the Union. He was a leading Secessionist and was elected a member of the Secession Convention. That body after passing the Ordinance of Secession elected him a delegate to the Provisional Congress of the Confederate States, which met at Montgomery, Ala. He was a very active member. On the adjournment of the Provisional Government of the Confederate States he returned to South Carolina and raised the Twentieth Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers and went into the Confederate Army. His command was ordered to Charleston. He served with his command on James' Island, Sullivan's Island, Morris' Island, and in Charleston in all the important engagements. He was in command of Morris' Island twenty-seven days and nights during its awful bombardment. When ordered to evacuate the island he did so, bringing off everything without the loss of a man. He was the last person to leave the island. General Beauregard in his report to the War [375] Department said it was one of the greatest retreats in the annals of warfare.
The latter part of May, 1864, he left Charleston with his command and joined General Lee's Army thirteen miles from Richmond. He carried about sixteen hundred men in his regiment to Virginia. It was called the "Twentieth Army Corps." He was assigned to Kershaw's Brigade and put in command of the brigade. On the first day of June, 1864, while leading the brigade, mounted on a grey horse, against a powerful force of the enemy he was shot through the liver and fell mortally wounded. He died on the 2d of June, 1864. By his request his remains were brought to South Carolina and laid by the side of his father in the graveyard at Tabernacle Church. Thus passed away one of South Carolina's brightest jewels.
The field in the front at Cold Harbor where those deadly assaults had been made beggars description. Men lay in places like hogs in a pen—some side by side, across each other, some two deep, while others with their legs lying across the head and body of their dead comrades. Calls all night long could be heard coming from the wounded and dying, and one could not sleep for the sickening sound "W—a—t—e—r" ever sounding and echoing in his ears. Ever and anon a heart-rending wail as coming from some lost spirit disturbed the hushed stillness of the night. There were always incentives for some of the bolder spirits, whose love of adventure or love of gain impelled them, to visit the battlefield before the burial detail had reached it, as many crisp five-dollar greenbacks or even hundred-dollar interest-bearing United States bonds could be found in the pockets of the fallen Federal either as a part of his wages or the proceeds of his bounty. The Federal Government was very lavish in giving recruits this bounty as an inducement to fill the depleted ranks of "Grant the Butcher." Tom Paysinger, of the Third, who had been detailed as a scout to General Longstreet, was a master hand at foraging upon the battlefield. [376] Whether to gain information or to replenish his purse is not known, but be that as it may, the night after the battle he crept quietly through our lines and in the stillness and darkness he made his way among the dead and wounded, searching the pockets of those he found. He came upon one who was lying face downward and whom he took to be beyond the pale of resistance, and proceeded to rifle his pockets. After gathering a few trifles he began crawling on his hands and knees towards another victim. When about ten steps distant the wounded Federal, for such it proved to be, raised himself on his elbow, grasped the gun that was lying beside him, but unknown to Paysinger, and called out, "You d——n grave robber, take that," and bang! went a shot at his retreating form. He then quietly resumed his recumbent position. The bullet struck Paysinger in the thigh and ranging upwards lodged in his hip, causing him to be a cripple for several long months. It is needless to say Paysinger left the field. He said afterwards he "would have turned and cut the rascal's throat, but he was afraid he was only 'possuming' and might brain him with the butt of his gun."
We remained in our position for several days and were greatly annoyed by the shells thrown by mortars or cannon mounted as such, which were continually bursting overhead or dropping in our works. The sharpshooters with globe-sighted rifles would watch through the brush in front of their rifle pits and as soon as a head was thoughtlessly raised either from our pits, which were now not more than fifty yards apart, or our breastwork, "crack!" went a rifle, a dull thud, and one of our men lay dead. It is astonishing how apt soldiers are in avoiding danger or warding it off, and what obstacles they can overcome, what work they can accomplish and with so few and ill assortment of tools when the necessity arises. To guard against the shells that were continually dropping in our midst or outside of our works, the soldiers began burrowing like rabbits in rear of our earthworks and building covered ways from their breastwork to the ground below. In a few days men could go the length of a regiment without being exposed in the least, crawling along the tunnels all dug with bayonets, knives, and a few wornout shovels. At some of these angles the passer-by would be exposed, and in going from one opening to another, only taking the fraction of a second to accomplish, a [377] bullet would come whizzing from some unseen source, either to the right or left. As soon as one of these openings under a covered way would be darkened by some one passing, away a bullet would come singing in the aperture, generally striking the soldier passing through. So annoying and dangerous had the practice become of shooting in our works from an unseen source that a detail of ten or twenty men was sent out under Lieutenant D.J. Griffith, of the Fifteenth, to see if the concealed enemy might not be located and an end put to the annoyance. Griffith and his men crept along cautiously in the underbrush, while some of our men would wave a blanket across the exposed places in the breastwork to draw the Federal fire, while Griffith and his detail kept a sharp lookout. It was not long before they discovered the hidden "Yank" perched in the top of a tall gum tree, his rifle resting in the fork of a limb. Griffith got as close as he well could without danger of being detected by some one under the tree. When all was ready they sighted their rifles at the fellow up the tree and waited his next fire. When it did come I expect that Yankee and his comrades below were the worst surprised of any throughout the war; for no sooner had his gun flashed than ten rifles rang out in answer and the fellow fell headlong to the ground, a distance of fifty feet or more. Beating the air with his hands and feet, grasping at everything within sight or reach, his body rolling and tumbling among the limbs of the tree, his head at times up, at others down, till at last he strikes the earth, and with a terrible rebound in the soft spongy needles Mr. "Yank" lies still, while Griffith and his men take to their heels. It was not known positively whether he was killed or not, but one thing Lieutenant Griffith and his men were sure of—one Yankee, at least, had been given a long ride in midair.
After Grant's repulse at Cold Harbor he gave up all hopes of reaching Richmond by direct assault and began his memorable change of base. Crossing the James River at night he undertook the capture of Petersburg by surprise. It appears from contemporaneous history that owing to some inexcusable blunders on our part Grant came very near accomplishing his designs.
To better understand the campaign around Petersburg it is necessary to take the reader back a little way. Simultaneous with Grant's advance [378] on the Rapidan an army of thirty thousand under the Union General B.F. Butler was making its way up the James River and threatening Petersburg. It was well known that Richmond would be no longer tenable should the latter place fall. Beauregard was commanding all of North Carolina and Virginia on the south side of the James River, but his forces were so small and so widely scattered that they promised little protection. When Lee and his veterans were holding back Grant and the Union Army at the Wilderness, Brocks Cross Roads, and Spottsylvania C.H., Beauregard with a handful of veterans and a few State troops was "bottling up Butler" on the James. What Kershaw had been to Lee at the Wilderness, McGowan at Spottsylvania, General Hagood was to General Beauregard on the south side around Petersburg. General Beauregard does not hesitate to acknowledge what obligations he was under to the brave General Hagood and his gallant band of South Carolinians at the most critical moments during the campaign, and it is unquestioned that had not General Hagood come up at this opportune moment, Petersburg would have fallen a year before it did.
General Beauregard fought some splendid battles on the south side, and if they had not been overshadowed by the magnitude of Lee's from the Wilderness to the James, they would have ranked in all probability as among the greatest of the war. But from one cause and then another during the whole campaign Beauregard was robbed of his legitimate fruits of battle.
The low, swampy nature of the country below Richmond, especially between the James and the Chickahominy, prevented Lee's scouts from detecting the movements of Grant's Army for some days after the movement began. Grant had established his headquarters at Wilcox's Landing, on the James, and had all his forces in motion on the south of the river by the 13th of June, while Lee was yet north of the Chickahominy.
General Beauregard and the gallant troops under him deserve the highest praise for their conduct in successfully giving Butler battle, while Petersburg was in such imminent peril, and Lee still miles and miles away. It is scarcely credible to believe with what small force the plucky little Creole held back such an overwhelming army.
When Grant made his first crossing of the James and began the movement against Petersburg, General Beauregard had only Wise's Brigade of infantry, twenty-two pieces of artillery, two regiments of cavalry under General Bearing, and a few regiments of local militia.
Grant had ordered the Eighteenth Corps (Smith's) by way of the White House to Bermuda Hundreds, and this corps had crossed the narrow neck of land between the James and the Appomattox, crossing the latter river on a pontoon bridge, and was at the moment firing on Petersburg with a force under his command of twenty-two thousand, with nothing between General Smith and Petersburg but Beauregard's two thousand men of all arms. Kant's Cavalry and one division of negro troops, under Hinks, had joined their forces with Smith after coming to the south side. Hancock's and Warren's Corps crossed the Chickahominy at Long Bridge and the James at Wilcox's Landing, and with Grant at the head, all were pushing on to Petersburg. Wright (Sixth) and Burnside (Ninth) crossed by way of Jones' Bridge and the James and Appomattox on pontoon bridges, pushing their way rapidly, as the nature of the ground permitted, in the direction of Petersburg. Beauregard in the meantime had been reinforced by his own troops, they having been transferred temporarily to Lee, at Spottsylvania Court House.
Hoke's Division reached Petersburg at twelve o'clock, on the 15th of June. Hagood's Brigade, of that division, being transported by rail from the little town of Chester, reached the city about night. Bushrod Johnson's Brigade was ordered up from Bermuda on the 16th. Beauregard being thus reinforced, had ten thousand troops of all arms on the morning of the 16th, with which to face Meade's Army, consisting of Hancock's, Smith's, and Burnside's Corps, aggregating sixty-six thousand men. Meade made desperate and continuous efforts to break through this weak line of gray, but without effect Only one division of Federals gained any permanent advantage. Warren, with four divisions, now reinforced Meade, bringing the Federal Army up to ninety thousand, with no help for Beauregard yet in sight. From noon until late at night of the 17th the force of this entire column was hurled against the Confederate lines, without any appreciable advantage, with the exception of one division before alluded to. Lee [380] was still north of the James with his entire army, and undecided as to Grant's future movements. He was yet in doubt whether Grant had designs directly against the Capital, or was endeavoring to cut his communications by the capture of Petersburg. Beauregard had kept General Lee and the war department thoroughly advised of his peril and of the overwhelming numbers in his front, but it was not until midnight of the 17th that the Confederate commander determined to change his base and cross to the south side of the James. It was at that hour that Kershaw's Brigade received its orders to move at once. For the last few days the army had been gradually working its way towards the James River, and was now encamped near Rice's Station. From the manner in which we were urged forward, it was evident that our troops somewhere were in imminent peril. The march started as a forced one, but before daylight it had gotten almost to a run. All the regiments stood the great strain without flinching, with the exception of the Twentieth. The "Old Twentieth Army Corps," as that regiment was now called, could not stand what the old veterans did, and fell by the way side. It was not for want of patriotism or courage, but simply a want of seasoning. Fully half of the "Corps" fell out. When we reached Petersburg, about sunrise, we found only Wise's Brigade and several regiments of old men and boys, hastily gotten together to defend their city, until the regulars came up. They had been fighting in the ranks, these gray-beards and half-grown boys, for three days, and to their credit be it said, "they weathered the storm" like their kinsmen in Wise's Brigade, and showed as much courage and endurance as the best of veterans. On the streets were ladies of every walk in life, some waving banners and handkerchiefs, some clapping their hands and giving words of cheer as the soldiers came by with their swinging step, their clothes looking as if they had just swum the river. Were the ladies refugeeing—getting out of harm's way? Not a bit of it. They looked equally as determined and defiant as their brothers and fathers in ranks—each and all seemed to envy the soldier his rifle. If Richmond had become famous through the courage and loyalty of her daughters, Petersburg was equally entitled to share the glories of her older sister, Richmond.
Kershaw's Brigade relieved that of General Wise, taking position on [381] extreme right, resting its right on the Jerusalem plank road, and extending towards the left over the hill and across open fields. Wise had some hastily constructed works, with rifle pits in front. These later had to be relieved under a heavy fire from the enemy's battle line. As the other brigades of the division came up, they took position on the left. Fields' Division and R.H. Anderson's, now of this corps, did not come up for some hours yet. General Anderson, in the absence of General Longstreet, commanded the corps as senior Major General. Before our division lines were properly adjusted, Warren's whole corps made a mad rush upon the works, now manned by a thin skirmish line, and seemed determined to drive us from our entrenchments by sheer weight of numbers. But Kershaw displayed no inclination to yield, until the other portions of our corps came upon the field. After some hours of stubborn fighting, and failing to dislodge us, the enemy withdrew to strengthen and straighten their lines and bring them more in harmony with ours. About four o'clock in the afternoon Meade organized a strong column of assault, composed of the Second, Fifth, and the Ninth Army Corps, and commanded in person, holding one corps in reserve. The artillery of the four corps was put in position, and a destructive fire was opened upon us by fifty pieces of the best field artillery. The infantry then commenced the storming of our works, but Field's Division had come up and was on the line. General Lee had given strength to our position by his presence, coming upon the field about eleven o'clock, and gave personal direction to the movements of the troops. The battle raged furiously until nightfall, but with no better results on the enemy's side than had attended him for the last three days—a total repulse at every point. By noon the next day Lee's whole force south of the James was within the entrenched lines of the city, and all felt perfectly safe and secure. Our casualties were light in comparison to the fighting done during the day, but the enemy was not only defeated, but badly demoralized.
Kershaw and Fields, of Lee's Army, with ten thousand under General Beauregard, making a total of twenty thousand, successfully combatted Grant's whole army, estimated by the Federals themselves as being ninety thousand. These are some figures that might well be taken [382] in consideration when deeds of prowess and Southern valor are being summed up.
Grant seemed determined to completely invest Petersburg on the south side by continually pushing his lines farther to the left, lengthening our lines and thereby weakening them. On the 21st of June the Second and Sixth Corps of the Federal Army moved on to the west of the Jerusalem plank road, while the Fifth was to take up position on the east side. In the manoeuver, or by some misunderstanding, the Fifth Corps became separated from those of the other divisions, thereby leaving a gap of about a division intervening. General Lee seeing this opportunity to strike the enemy a blow, and as A.P. Hill was then coming up, he ordered him to push his force forward and attack the enemy in flank. Moving his troops forward with that despatch that ever attended the Third Corps of our army, it struck the enemy a stunning blow in the flank and rear, driving them back in great disorder, capturing several thousand prisoners and a battery or two of artillery. The enemy continued to give way until they came upon their strong entrenched position; then Hill retired and took his place on the line. Again Grant started his cavalry out on raids to capture and destroy the railroads leading into Petersburg and Richmond, the route by which the entire army of Lee had to look for supplies. But at Reams' Station Hampton met the larger body of the enemy's cavalry and after a hard fought battle, in which he utterly routed the enemy, he captured his entire wagon train and all his artillery. A short time after this Grant sent Hancock, one of the ablest Generals in the Federal Army, (a true, thorough gentleman, and as brave as the bravest, and one whom the South in after years had the pleasure of showing its gratitude and admiration for those qualities so rare in many of the Federal commanders, by voting for him for President of the United States) with a large body of cavalry to destroy the Weldon Road at all hazard and to so possess it that its use to our army would be at an end. After another hard battle, in which the enemy lost five thousand men, Hancock succeeded in his mission and captured and retained the road. The only link now between the capital and the other sections of the South on which the subsistence of the army depended was that by Danville, Va. This was a military road completed by [383] the government in anticipation of those very events that had now transpired. Another road on which the government was bending all its energies to complete, but failed for want of time, was a road running from Columbia to Augusta, Ga. This was to be one of the main arteries of the South in case Charleston should fail to hold out and the junction of the roads at Branchville fall in the hands of the enemy. Our lines of transportation, already somewhat circumscribed, were beginning to grow less and less. Only one road leading South by way of Danville, and should the road to Augusta, Ga., via Columbia and Branchville, be cut the South or the Armies of the West and that of the East would be isolated. As gloomy as our situation looked, there was no want of confidence in the officers and the troops. The rank and file of the South had never considered a condition of failure. They felt their cause to be sacred, that they were fighting for rights and principles for which all brave people will make every sacrifice to maintain, that the bravery of a people like that which the South had shown to the world, the spirits that animated them, the undaunted courage by which the greatest battles had been fought and victories gained against unprecedented numbers, all this under such circumstances and under such leadership—the South could not fail. Momentary losses, temporary reverses might prolong the struggle, but to change the ultimate results, never. And at the North there were loud and widespread murmurings, no longer confined to the anti-abolitionist and pro slavery party, but it came from statesmen the highest in the land, it came from the fathers and mothers whose sons had fallen like autumn leaves from the Rapidan to the Appomattox. The cries and wails of the thousands of orphans went up to high Heaven pleading for those fathers who had left them to fill the unsatiate maw of cruel, relentless war. The tears of thousands and thousands of widows throughout the length and breadth of the Union fell like scalding waters upon the souls of the men who were responsible for this holocaust. Their voices and murmuring, though like Rachael's "weeping for her children and would not be comforted," all this to appease the Moloch of war and to gratify the ambition of fanatics. The people, too, of the North, who had to bear all this burden, were sorely pressed and afflicted at seeing their hard earned treasures or hoarded wealth, the fruits of their labor, the result of their toil [384] of a lifetime, going to feed this army of over two millions of men, to pay the bounties of thousands of mercenaries of the old countries and the unwilling freedmen soldiers of the South. All this only to humble a proud people and rob them of their inherent rights, bequeathed to them by the ancestry of the North and South. How was it with the South? Not a tear, not a murmur. The mothers, with that Spartan spirit, buckled on the armor of their sons with pride and courage, and with the Spartan injunction, bade them "come home with your shield, or on it." The fathers, like the Scottish Chieftain, if he lost his first born, would put forward his next, and say, "Another one for Hector." Their storehouses, their barns, and graneries were thrown open, and with lavish hands bade the soldiers come and take—come and buy without money and without price. Even the poor docile slave, for whom some would pretend these billions of treasure were given and oceans of blood spilled, toiled on in peace and contentment, willing to make any and every sacrifice, and toil day and night, for the interest and advancement of his master's welfare. He was as proud of his master's achievements, of our victories, and was even as willing to throw his body in this bloody vortex as if the cause had been his own. The women of the South, from the old and bending grandmothers, who sat in the corner, with their needles flying steady and fast, to the aristocratic and pampered daughter of wealth, toiled early and toiled late with hands and bodies that never before knew or felt the effects of work—all this that the soldier in the trenches might be clothed and fed—not alone for members of their families, but for the soldiers all, especially those who were strangers among us—those who had left their homes beyond the Potomac and the Tennessee. The good housewife stripped her household to send blankets and bedding to the needy soldiers. The wheel and loom could be heard in almost every household from the early morn until late at night going to give not comforts, but necessities of life, to the boys in the trenches. All ranks were leveled, and the South was as one band of brothers and sisters. All formality and restraint were laid aside, and no such thing as stranger known. The doors were thrown open to the soldiers wherever and whenever they chose to enter; the board was always spread, and a ready [385] welcome extended. On the march, when homes were to be passed, or along the sidewalks in cities, the ladies set the bread to baking and would stand for hours in the doorway or at some convenient window to cut and hand out slice after slice to the hungry soldiers as long as a loaf was left or a soldier found.
With such a people to contend, with such heroes to face in the field, was it any wonder that the North began to despair of ever conquering the South? There was but one way by which the Northern leaders saw possible to defeat such a nation of "hereditary madmen in war." It was by continually wearing them away by attrition. Every man killed in the South was one man nearer the end. It mattered not what the cost might be—if two or a dozen soldiers fell, if a dozen households were put in mourning, and widows and orphans were made by the score—the sacrifice must be made and endured. The North had found in Grant a fit weapon by which to give the blow—a man who could calmly see the slaughter of thousands to gain an end, if by so doing the end in view could be expedited. The absence of all feelings of humanity, the coolness and indifference with which he looked upon his dead, his calmness in viewing the slaughter as it was going on, gained for him the appellation of "Grant, the Butcher." Grant saw, too, the odds and obstacles with which he had to contend and overcome when he wrote these memorable words, "Lee has robbed the cradle and the grave." Not odds in numbers and materials, but in courage, in endurance, in the sublime sacrifice the South was making in men and treasure. Scarcely an able-bodied man in the South—nay, not one who could be of service—who was not either in the trenches, in the ranks of the soldiers, or working in some manner for the service. All from sixteen to fifty were now in actual service, while all between fourteen and sixteen and from fifty to sixty were guarding forts, railroads, or Federal prisoners. These prisoners had been scattered all over the South, and began to be unwieldy. The Federals under the policy of beating the South by depleting their ranks without battle in the field had long since refused the exchange of prisoners. They had, by offers of enticing bounties, called from the shores of the Old Country thousands of poor emigrants, who would enlist merely for the money there was in it. Thousands and thousands of prisoners captured could [386] not speak a word of English. They had whole brigades of Irish and Dutch, while the Swedes, Poles, Austrians, as well as Italians, were scattered in the ranks throughout the army. In the capturing of a batch of prisoners, to a stranger who would question them, it would seem more like we were fighting the armies of Europe than our kinsmen of the North. In fact, I believe if the real truth of it was known, the greater part of the Federal Army in the closing days of the Confederacy was either foreigners or sons of foreigners.
Were there ever before such people as those of the Southland? Were there ever such patriotic fathers, such Christian mothers, such brave and heroic sons and daughters? Does it look possible at this late day that a cause so just and righteous could fail, with such men and women to defend it? It is enough to cause the skeptic to smile at the faith of those who believe in God's interference in human affairs and in the efficacy of prayers. The cause of the South was just and right, and no brave men would have submitted without first staking their all upon the issue of cruel, bloody war. Impartial history will thus record the verdict.
As soon as General Lee's Army was all up and his lines established, we began to fortify in earnest. The breastworks that were built now were of a different order to the temporary ones in the Wilderness and at Cold Harbor. As it was known now that a regular siege had begun, our breastworks were built proportionately strong. Our lines were moved to the left to allow a battery to occupy the brow of a hill on our right, Kershaw's Brigade occupying both slopes of the hills, a ravine cutting it in two. Field pieces were mounted at intervals along the line with the infantry, every angle covered by one or more cannon. The enemy commenced shelling us from mortars from the very beginning of our work, and kept it up night and day as long as we remained in the trenches. The day after Kershaw took position Grant began pressing our [387] picket line and running his parallels nearer and nearer our works. It was said that Grant won his laurels in the West with picks and shovels instead of rifles and cannon, but here it looked as if he intended to use both to an advantage. As soon as he had his lines located, he opened a fusilade upon Petersburg, throwing shells into the city from his long-ranged guns, without intermission. It was in the immediate front of the right of the brigade and the battery on the hill that the enemy's mine was laid that occasioned the "Battle of the Crater" a month afterwards. Before we had finished our works, several night assaults were made upon us, notably the one up the ravine that separated the Second and Third on the night of the 21st of June. It was easily repulsed, however, with little loss on our side, the enemy firing too high. What annoyed the soldiers more than anything else was the continual dropping of shells in our works or behind them. We could hear the report of the mortars, and by watching overhead we could see the shell descending, and no one could tell exactly where it was going to strike and no chance for dodging. As every old soldier knows, card playing was the national vice, if vice it could be called, and almost all participated in it, but mostly for amusement, as the soldiers scarcely ever had money to hazard at cards. While a quartet was indulging in this pastime in the trenches, some one yelled, "Lookout, there comes a shell!" Looking up the disciples of the "Ten Spots" saw a shell coming down right over their heads. Nothing could be done but to stretch themselves at full length and await developments. They were not long in suspense, for the shell dropped right upon the oilcloth on which they had been playing. There it lay sizzling and spluttering as the fuse burned lower and lower, the men holding their breath all the while, the other troops scattering right and left. The thing could not last; the tension broke, when one of the card-players seized the shell in his hands and threw it out of the works; just before exploding. It was the belief in the brigade that those men did not play cards again for more than thirty days.
Another annoyance was the enemy's sharpshooters, armed with globe-sighted rifles. These guns had a telescope on top of the barrel, and objects at a distance could be distinctly seen. Brush screened their rifle pits, and while they could see plainly any object above [388] our works, we could not see them. A head uncautiously raised above the line, would be sure to get a bullet in or near it.
About one hundred yards in our rear, up the ravine, was a good spring of water. The men could reach this in safety by going down the breastworks in a stooping posture, then up the ravine to the spring. A recruit in the Second Regiment had gone to this spring and was returning. When about twenty paces from the works he undertook, through a spirit of adventure; or to save a few steps, to run diagonally across the field to his regiment. It was his last. When about midway he was caught by a bullet from the enemy's picket, and only lived long enough to call out, "Oh, mother!" Many lost their lives here by recklessness or want of caution.
After remaining in the trenches about two weeks, Kershaw's Brigade was relieved by a part of Hoke's Division and retired to some vacant lots in the city in good supporting distance of the front line. We were not out of reach of the shells by any means; they kept up a continual screaming overhead, bursting in the city. The soldiers got passes to visit the town on little shopping excursions, notwithstanding the continual bursting of the shells in the city. The citizens of Petersburg, white and black, women and children, like the citizens of Charleston, soon became accustomed to the shelling, and as long as one did not drop in their immediate vicinity, little attention was paid to it. One night after a furious bombardment the cry was heard, "The city is on fire; the city is on fire." A lurid glare shot up out of the very heart of the city, casting a dim light over the buildings and the camps near about. Fire bells began ringing, and the old men rushing like mad to fight the fire. As soon as the enemy discovered that the city was on fire, they concentrated all their efforts to the burning buildings. Shells came shrieking from every elevated position on the enemy's lines, and fell like "showers of meteors on a frolic." Higher and higher the flames rose until great molten-like tongues seemed to lick the very clouds. The old men mounted the ladder like boys, and soon the tops of the surrounding buildings were lined with determined spirits, and the battle against the flames began in earnest. We could see their forms against the dark back-ground, running hither and thither, fighting with all the power and energy of the brave and [389] fearless men they were. They paid no heed to the screaming, shrieking, bursting shells all around, but battled bravely to save the city. After the burning of several contiguous buildings, the flames were gotten under control, and eventually the fire was extinguished. I have seen many battles, but never more heroism displayed than by the old citizens and boys that night in Petersburg. The soldiers were not allowed to leave their camp, and all the citizens of military age were away in the army, so the old men and boys had to fight this fire single-handed and alone, and amid a perfect storm of shot and shell.
Grant had been daily reinforced by recruits and forces from the West. Butler had received a large reinforcement from Banks, on the lower Mississippi, and was gradually working his way up to Richmond. A great number of these troops, to judge from the prisoners we captured, were foreigners; many could not speak a word of English. Kershaw was ordered to reinforce the troops on the north side, and on the 13th of July we crossed the James on a pontoon bridge, near Chaffin's Bluff, after an all night's march over brush, briars, through field and bog, and took position on a high ridge running out from the river. In front of us was a vast swamp of heavy timber and underbrush, called Deep Bottom. Beyond Deep Bottom the enemy had approached and entrenched, being supported by gun boats in the James. This position it was determined to surprise and take by assault. Early at night the brigade was moved out in this swamp, along a dull road that ran along its edge, and advanced in the direction of the enemy. No attempt of assault, was ever more dreaded or looked on with such apprehension, save, perhaps, our charge on the works at Knoxville, than this night charge at Deep Bottom. When near the enemy's position, we formed line of battle, while it was so dark in the dense woods that an object ten feet away could not be distinguished. We had to take and give commands in whispers, for fear the enemy would discover our presence. We moved forward gradually, a few steps at a time, each step a little nearer the enemy, who lay asleep behind their works. We had advanced, perhaps, two hundred yards, and as yet had encountered none of the enemy's pickets or videttes, showing how securely they felt in regard to a night attack. While halting to adjust our lines, which had to [390] be done every few paces, Colonel Rutherford and myself were reconnoitering in front, and discovered a white object a few feet away. The men saw it, too, and thought it a sheep. The Colonel advanced and gave it a slight jab with his sword. In a moment a white blanket was thrown off, and there lay, as nicely coiled up as little pigs, two of the Yankee sentinels. They threw up their hands in a dazed kind of way, and to our whispered threats and uplifted swords, uttered some unintelligible jargon. We soon saw they did not understand a word of English. So it was we captured almost their entire picket line, composed of foreigners of Banks' Army, of Louisiana. Just then, on our right, whether from friend or foe, I never learned, several discharges of rifles alarmed both armies. It was too late then to practice secrecy, so the command "charge" was given. With a tremendous yell, we dashed through the tangled, matted mass of undergrowth, on towards the enemy's line. Aroused thus suddenly from their sleep, they made no other resistance than to fire a few shots over our head, leaving the breastworks in haste. Some lay still, others ran a few rods in the rear, and remained until captured, while the greater part scampered away towards their gun boats.
Colonel Henagan, of the Eighth, being in command of the brigade, ordered breastworks to be thrown up on the opposite side of an old road, in which the enemy lay and which they had partly fortified. The next day, about 3 o'clock, the enemy opened upon us a heavy fusilade with their siege mortars and guns from their gun boats and ironclads in the James. These were three hundred-pounders, guns we had never before been accustomed to. Great trees a foot and a half in diameter were snapped off like pipe-stems. The peculiar frying noise made in going through the air and their enormous size caused the troops to give them the name of "camp kettles." They passed through our earthworks like going through mole hills. The enemy advanced in line of battle, and a considerable battle ensued, but we were holding our own, when some watchers that Colonel Henagan had ordered in the tops of tall trees to watch the progress of the enemy, gave the warning that a large body of cavalry was advancing around our left and was gaining our rear. Colonel Henagan gave the command "retreat," but the [391] great "camp kettles" coming with such rapidity and regularity, our retreat through this wilderness of shrubbery and tangled undergrowth would have ended in a rout had not our retreat been impeded by this swamp morass. We reached the fortification, however, on the bluff, the enemy being well satisfied with our evacuation of the position so near their camp.
The brigade, with the exception of marching and counter-marching, relieving other troops and being relieved, did no further service than occupying the lines until the 6th of August. The brigade boarded the train on that day at Chester for destination at that time unknown.
About the first of July the enemy, commanded by General Burnside, undertook to blow up a portion of our lines by tunneling under the works at a convenient point suitable for assault, and attempted to take our troops by surprise. The point selected was that portion of the line first held by Kershaw's Brigade, near Cemetery Hill, and in front of Taylor's Creek, near Petersburg. The continual night assaults on us at that point and the steady advance of their lines were to gain as much distance as possible. From the base of the hill at Taylor's Creek they began digging a tunnel one hundred and seventy yards long, and at its terminus were two laterals, dug in a concave towards our works, of thirty-seven feet each. In these laterals were placed eight hundred pounds of powder, with fuse by which all could be exploded at once.
General Beauregard, who commanded at this point, had been apprised of this undertaking, and at first had sunk counter-mines. But this was abandoned, and preparations were made to meet the emergency with arms. At this point and near the "Crater," as it was afterwards called, were stationed Colquit's (Ga.), Gracie's (Ala.), and Elliott's (S.C.) Brigades. Elliott's was posted immediately over it with Pegram's Battery. Rear lines had been established by which the troops could take cover, and reinforcements kept under arms night and day, so that when the explosion did take place, it would find the Confederates prepared. Batteries were placed at convenient places to bear upon the line and the place of explosion.
On the morning of the 30th of July, everything being in readiness, the fuse was placed, and at 3.30 o'clock the light was applied. Before this terrible "Crater," soon to be a hollocu of human beings, [392] were massed Ledlie's, Potter's, Wilcox's, and Ferrero's Divisions, supported by Ames'. In the front was Ferrero's Division of negro troops, drunk and reeling from the effects of liquor furnished them by the wagon loads. This body of twenty-three thousand men were all under the immediate command of Major General Ord. On the left of Burnside, Warren concentrated ten thousand men, while the Eighteenth Corps, with that many more, were in the rear to aid and support the movement—the whole being forty-three thousand men, with eight thousand pounds of gun-powder to first spring the mine. General Sheridan, with his cavalry, was to make a demonstration in our front and against the roads leading to Petersburg. Hancock, too, was to take a part, if all things proved successful—fifty thousand men were to make a bold dash for the capture of the city. Immediately over the mine was Elliott's Brigade, consisting of the Seventeenth, Twenty-sixth, Twenty-third, Twenty-second, and Eighteenth South Carolina Regiments. At 3.30 o'clock the fuse was lighted, and while the Confederates, all unconscious of the impending danger, lay asleep, this grand aggregation of men of Grant's Army waited with bated breath and anxious eye the fearful explosion that eight thousand pounds of powder, under a great hill, were to make. Time went on, seconds into minutes. The nerves of the assaulters were, no doubt, at extreme tension. Four o'clock came, still all was still and silent. The Federal commanders held their watches in hand and watched the tiny steel hands tick the seconds away. The streaks of day came peeping up over the hills and cast shadows high overhead. The fuse had failed! A call was made for a volunteer to go down into the mine and relight the fuse. A Lieutenant and Sergeant bravely step forward and offered to undertake the perilous mission. They reach the mouth of the tunnel and peer in. All was dark, silent, sombre, and still. Along they grope their way with a small lantern in their hands. They reach the barrel of powder placed at the junction of the main and the laterals. The fuse had ceased to burn. Hurriedly they pass along to the other barrels. Expecting every moment to be brown into space, they find all as the first, out. The thousands massed near the entrance and along Taylor's Creek, watched with fevered excitement the return of the brave men who had thus placed their lives in such jeopardy for a cause [393] they, perhaps, felt no interest. Quickly they placed new fuse, lit them, and quickly left the gruesome pit. Scarcely had they reached a place of safety than an explosion like a volcano shook the earth, while the country round about was lit up with a great flash. The earth trembled and swayed—great heaps of earth went flying in the air, carrying with it men, guns, and ammunition. Cannon and carriages were scattered in every direction, while the sleeping men were thrown high in the air.
But here I will allow Colonel F.W. McMaster, an eye witness, who commanded Elliott's Brigade after the fall of that General, to tell the story of the "Battle of the Crater" in his own words. I copy his account, by permission, from an article published in one of the newspapers of the State.
In order to understand an account of the battle of the "Crater," a short sketch of our fortifications should be given.
Elliott's Brigade extended from a little branch that separated it from Ransom's Brigade on the north, ran three hundred and fifty yards, joining Wise's Brigade on the south. Captain Pegram's Virginia Battery had four guns arranged in a half circle on the top of the hill, and was separated from the Eighteenth and Twenty-second South Carolina Regiments by a bank called trench cavalier.
The Federal lines ran parallel to the Confederate. The nearest point of Pegram's Battery to the Federal lines was eighty yards; the rest of the lines was about two hundred yards apart. The line called gorge line was immediately behind the battery, and was the general passage for the troops. The embankment called trench cavalier was immediately in rear of the artillery and was constructed for the infantry in case the battery should be taken by a successful assault.
The general line for the infantry, which has been spoken of as a wonderful feat of engineering, was constructed under peculiar circumstances. Beauregard had been driven from the original lines made for the defense of Petersburg, and apprehensive that the enemy, which numbered ten to one, would get into the city, directed his engineer, Colonel Harris, to stake a new line. This place was reached by General Hancock's troops at dark on the third day's fighting, and our men were [394] ordered to make a breastwork. Fortifications without spades or shovels was rather a difficult feat to perform, but our noble soldiers went to work with bayonets and tin cups, and in one night threw up a bank three feet high—high enough to cause Hancock to delay his attack. In the next ten days' time the ditches were enlarged until they were eight feet high and eight feet wide, with a banquette of eighteen inches high from which the soldiers could shoot over the breastwork.
Five or six traverses were built perpendicularly from the main trench to the rear, so as to protect Pegram's guns from the enfilading fire of the big guns on the Federal lines a mile to the north. Besides these traverses there were narrow ditches five or six feet deep which led to the sinks.
The only safe way to Petersburg, a mile off, was to go down to the spring branch which passed under our lines at the foot of the hill, then go to the left through the covered way to Petersburg, or to take the covered way which was half way down the hill to Elliott's headquarters.
At this point a ravine or more properly a swale ran up the hill parallel to our breastworks. It was near Elliott's headquarters where Mahone's troops went in from the covered way and formed in battle array.
The soldiers slept in the main trench. At times of heavy rains the lower part of the trench ran a foot deep in water. The officers slept in burrows dug in the sides of the rear ditches. There were traverses, narrow ditches, cross ditches and a few mounds over officers' dens, so that there is no wonder that one of the Federal officers said the quarters reminded him of the catacombs of Rome.
An ordinary mortal would not select such a place for a three mouths' summer residence.
About ten days after the battle, and while I was acting Brigadier General and occupying General Elliott's headquarters, a distinguished Major General visited me and requested me to go over the lines with him. I gladly complied with the request. He asked me where the men rested at night. I pointed out the floor of the ditch. He said, "But where do the officers sleep?" We happened then to be in the narrow ditch in front of my quarters, and I pointed it out to him. He replied, in language not altogether suitable for a Sunday School teacher, that he would desert before he would submit to such hardships.