MORE ACTIVE SERVICE
"Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready braced
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine."
--SHAKESPEARE.
Early on the morning of the 4th of May loud explosions were heard in the direction of Yorktown, and the heavens glowed with the light of great fires. At sunrise our division got orders to be ready to march, but the morning wore away, and it was almost two o'clock before the long roll beat. At length we moved with the column, already unnerved by long-continued expectation, westward upon the Williamsburg road.
Willis was triumphant. "We got 'em now, boys," says he. "I told you so."
Lawler responded that any weather prophet would get rain if he kept on predicting till the rain came.
The mud was deep and heavy. The roads had been horribly cut up by the retreating rebels and by our cavalry advancing ahead of us.
Late in the afternoon we came to a long halt; a division had come into our road from the left and was now advancing, blocking our way. We rested. About dark our head of column was turned back and we countermarched, and halted, and marched again, and halted again, where, I do not know; but I know that I was thoroughly worn out when orders were given that the men should lie on their arms, but that they should otherwise make themselves as comfortable as they could. Rain was falling, the night was black, comfort was impossible. I suppose I got two or three hours' sleep. At daylight the march was again taken up; in an hour or two we halted and formed line with skirmishers in front; it was still raining.
We marched the length of the regiment by the right flank, through the woods, then fronted and moved forward, with skirmishers deployed in advance. The skirmishers soon became engaged. Bullets flew amongst us. We continued to advance until we reached the edge of the woods; the line had not yet fired a shot.
The rebels had cut down the timber in their front; as soon as we became visible they began throwing shells and grape-shot over the timber at our ranks. We lay down and took the fire and the rain. We lay there for something like two hours; then we moved to the rear,--only our regiment, I think,--fronted again, and marched to the right for perhaps a mile through the woods. Willis said that we were seeking any enemy that might be in the woods; but he aroused no interest; nobody either approved or seemed to doubt Willis's interpretation of the movement; we did not know what the generals were doing with us, and we were tired and sleepy and hungry and wet.
By twelve o'clock we had marched back to our former position near the felled timber. Rain continued to fall, and the hostile batteries to fire upon each other. Wounded men were carried to the rear. I noticed that our company seemed small; perhaps a few had been wounded; certainly many had fallen out of ranks, unable longer to endure.
About the middle of the afternoon we were moved again, this time through the woods to the left. As we marched, we could hear the roar of musketry ahead of us, and straggling men could be seen running in every direction except one. We moved on in line, without skirmishers. The straggling men increased in numbers, and many wounded went past us, the ambulance corps working busily here in the dense wet forest. The yells of the rebels were plainly heard, and all eyes were strained to catch sight of what was already but too well known. Every moment was an hour.
Suddenly from our front came a roar and a crash, and our line staggered to a dead halt, every man firing and loading as fast as he could--firing at a line of smoke ahead of us. Great shouts could be heard in the smoke; occasionally, in some momentary diminution in our own strife, there could be faintly heard the noise of battle to our right, far and near to our right.
Men were falling fast. All at once I heard Willis roar, "Fire to the left, men! fire to the left!" A great turmoil ensued; officers cried, "They are our men!" Willis again, shouted: "Fire on that line, men! They are rebels! They are rebels!" and he succeeded in convincing most of us that he was right. Then the cry rose: "We are flanked!" "Look out!" "Flanked!" "Here they come!" and then the whole crowd of us were running with all our legs. I reached a road that ran across the line of my flight; it was full of everything: troops in good order, stragglers breaking through them, wounded lying down, dead flat on their backs, artillery horses in their traces, ambulances.
So far as we were concerned, the fight was over; fresh troops had relieved us, and the rebels came no farther. It was night, and the battle soon ended on the whole line.
With difficulty I found my regiment and company. We lay in the woods; the rain kept on.
I have understood that the battle of Williamsburg is considered a victory for our side. I must confess that I did not know that we had won it until I was so informed, although I was certainly in the battle. The rebels fought this partial engagement only for the purpose, I think, of securing the retreat of their army and trains; we fought for the purpose of preventing the retreat. I have learned that our right wing had better success than we had on the left; but for all that, the enemy got away unbroken, and his purpose was accomplished. In the days of those early battles, even the falling back of the rebel pickets before a line of our skirmishers was telegraphed to Washington as a victory.
We lay on the wet ground; our sufferings were not small. Willis's remark, that the rebels too were wet, didn't seem to bring much comfort; even his assertion, that they would again retreat and that the morning would find them gone, called forth no enthusiasm. The men were dispirited; they knew very well that they had fought hard and had endured with the stoutness of good soldiers, but they were physically exhausted, and, above all, they felt that somebody had blundered in putting them unnecessarily into an awkward place. I have always been proud that none of our men deserted on the night of the Williamsburg battle.
No fires could be made, Willis and I ate a little and lay down. My gum-blanket was laid on the wet ground, with my blanket on top; this was our bed. Our covering was Willis's blanket and gum-blanket. The night was warm enough, and our covering was needed only as some protection against the rain. I was soon asleep, but awake again as soon. About ten o'clock I felt a hand on my shoulder. Rising, I saw our orderly-sergeant; a man was standing by him. I was ordered to report at General Grover's headquarters. The general had sent an orderly, who could not or would not tell why I was wanted.
General Grover was in the centre of a group of officers, surrounding a dim lantern which, was on the ground at the root of a large tree; horses were tied near by to the branches of trees.
The orderly saluted, pointed to me, and retired a few yards.
The general came toward me; I saluted.
"Your name," said he.
"Private Jones Berwick."
"Your regiment."
"Eleventh."
"Dr. Khayme has spoken of you."
I bowed.
"Are you willing to undertake a hazardous duty?"
"I want to do my duty, General; but I don't hanker after danger," said I.
"A prudent answer," said he; "come here."
He led the way toward the lantern, the group of officers scattering.
"The whole matter is this," said the general, "each brigade must send a man to the front to observe the enemy. Will you go for this brigade?"
"Yes, sir," I said; "I ought to, if you so command."
"There is no compulsion," said he; "a man who objects to going should not be allowed to go."
"My objections, General, are not strong enough, to make me decline."
"Then let us understand each other. Do this for me and you shall lose nothing by it. All proper favours shall be shown you if you do your duty well. Extra duty demands extra privilege."
"Can I see Dr. Khayme?" I asked.
"No, not to-night; he attends the right wing. Now, Berwick, let me show you."
He bent down by the lantern and was about to sit, when an officer stepped before and spread a gum-blanket on the ground, and placed the lantern near the blanket.
"Thanks, Hibbert," said General Grover.
The general took a map from one of his aides, and spread it on the blanket. It was a mere sketch--a very few lines.
"Here is our position," said he, making a mark with a pencil; "you see our line here, running north and south."
"Which is north?" I asked.
"Here, this way. We are in these woods; the rebels are over here, or were there at last accounts. Our picket-line is along this branch, in part. I want you to go through our pickets, and get across the branch, and go on through the woods until you come to this road, which you see running north and south. You need not go across this road. All I want you to do is to observe this road until day."
"Is the road in the woods, General?"
"Well, I don't know, but I think it is. You will have no trouble whatever, unless the rebels have their pickets on this side of the road," said he.
"But in case the rebels are on this side of the road, what shall I do?"
"It may be that their skirmishers are in the road, and their vedettes near the branch; in that case get as near as possible to the road. If they are on this side of the road, but so near the road that you can observe it with eye or ear, why, observe it with as little risk to yourself as possible. If bodies of troops move on the road, you must come back to the picket-line and report, and then return to your post of observation."
"Would it not be well to have an intermediate man between me and our picket-line?"
"A good idea, sir. We'll get the captain of the pickets to supply one."
"And now, General, suppose that the rebel pickets are much this side of the road."
"Then use your discretion, but observe that road this night. Take your own way to do it, but the road must be observed."
"How far do the woods stretch beyond the road, General?"
"If this sketch can be relied on, not more than three hundred yards," said he; "but it will not do to rely on this piece of paper."
"May I not run foul of some man of ours sent out by one of the other brigades, General?"
"Not likely; each, brigade sends in its own front, and you will hardly find that any man will be so enterprising as to try to do our duty for us; still, you must avoid any chance of a collision such as you speak of."
"How shall I get through our own pickets, General?"
"My courier will see you through," said he. "No; I will see you through. I want to see our line again, and I will go with you."
"Suppose the brigade moves while I am at the front, and I can't find you when I get back."
"Then make your report to the picket that relieves ours, and get back to us as soon as you can. Our pickets will tell those that relieve them about you."
"Suppose I find a movement in progress and can follow it," said I.
"Follow it as long as you wish, only be sure to report through the other man. Is everything clear to you now?"
"Yes, General; I think so."
"Then return to your company and get ready; be back in ten minutes."
I was back in ten minutes. I had decided to go entirely unarmed, and I was hoping that the men of the other brigades would have as much consideration for me, as I did not think it very unlikely that I should run against one of them in the darkness. I put my gum-blanket over me, committed my knapsack and other things to Willis's keeping; and was back with the general.
We found that our pickets were not on the branch which the general had shown me on the map, or on any branch. A brief conversation took place between the general and Captain Brown of the picket-line. The captain chose a man, and told him to follow me and to obey my orders.
Then the general put his hand on my shoulder. "Take care of yourself, my man," said he; "but get to that road; be sure that you report any movement on that road." I began to assure him that I would do all that I could, but I found that he had already started back to the brigade.
I asked Captain Brown to warn all his men not to fire on me when I should return. The low call went right and left along the line,--"Two of our men going to the front!"
"Where are your vedettes?" I asked of Captain Brown.
"The line itself is on extreme duty," said he; "the vedettes are only thirty yards in front; we posted the relief not half an hour ago."
I had already observed by the light of General Grover's lantern, which his orderly had discreetly held in reserve some ten paces or more, that the picket-line was a double one, that is to say, two men to every five paces, and that every man was standing in his place, gun in hand,--behind trees the most of them,--and with their faces to the front. There were no picket fires.
"How many vedettes are there? How thick are they?"
"One every twenty yards," said he; "I will relieve them with new men in half an hour, or a little more; an hour is long enough for such duty. The new men will be advised that you are still in front. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Come."
The three of us--Captain Brown leading, I following him, and the detailed man, Allen, coming after--went forward to a vedette. The captain spoke some words to him in a whisper, and then went back to the picket-line. I now observed that Allen had brought his gun. I say observed, for I did not see the gun; my hand happened to touch it. I asked Allen to go back and leave his piece at the picket-line; while he was gone I spoke in whispers to the vedette. He had heard nothing in his front, except that now and then there seemed to come to him, from far away, an indistinct rumble; he had seen nothing in the black night except trees but little blacker. The rain was a thick drizzle.
I warned the vedette to be very careful in case he heard anything in his front, lest he fire on a friend. He said that the vedettes had orders not to fire, but to retire at once on the picket-line in case of a silent advance of the enemy. This peculiar order, which at a later time I heard given again under somewhat similar circumstances, was no doubt a wise one. A secret advance of the enemy's skirmishers would have been precipitated into a charge by the fire of the vedette, whereas his secret retreat to his line would prepare the pickets to surprise the surprisers.
And now, with Allen just behind me, I went forward. The woods were so dense and the night so dark that it was useless to try to see ahead of me. The only thing to do was to feel my way. I supposed that the branch which I was to cross was but a very short distance in front. I had no fear that I should find enemies this side of the branch; the great probability was that their vedettes were posted on the farther bank of the stream. When I had gone not more than thirty yards, I felt that the ground sloped downward before me, and I judged that the branch was very near. I paused. There was not a sound except that made by the fall of heavy drops of water from the leaves of the trees. I strained my eyes, trying to see in front. Allen was but three paces behind me, yet I could not see his form. I stepped back to where he was, and asked in a low whisper if he could see at all.
"Yes," said he, "I can see a little. I can make out where you stand."
I told him that we ought to be now very near a branch, and that the branch ought to make a slight gap in the woods and a little more light. He whispered back that there was, he thought, more light in our front than there had been before. I now tried to discern this new light, and could not at first, but after a little while it did seem to me that just ahead there was a dim gray streak.
I made one step forward--paused--then another step; another, and I felt my foot in the water. The gray streak had widened. I made a step back, and caught Allen by the hand. Then I went forward, holding Allen's hand. But I wanted to speak to Allen, and feared to do so. We went back again, some three steps, until I was out of the water.
Allen was always a little in my rear, even when we were hand-in-hand. He whispered, "It is ten steps wide."
"Can you see across it?"
"I think so. I think the trees are lower over there."
In all my experience as a soldier I think that I never felt myself in a more critical place. The opposite side of the branch was an ideal position for the rebel vedettes. They ought to be there if anywhere in these woods. Still, they, as well as we, might have neglected their opportunity; besides, their line might be bent back here; their vedettes might be on the branch farther to our right, and here might be anywhere in its rear; we did not know where the rebel right rested. Of one thing I felt sure--the rebels did not intend to advance on this night, for in that case they would have had their vedettes, and their pickets also, if possible, on our side of the branch.
The thing had to be done. I must risk crossing the branch. If vedettes were on it, it was just within the possible that I might pass between two of them.
I whispered to Allen that I wanted a stick; he already had one, which he put into my hand. Then I told him to take hold of my coat, lest my foot should slip; the noise of a splash, might have caused utter failure, if not our capture.
We reached the water again. I felt before me. The end of the stick seemed to sink into soft mud.
I made another step forward. I was up to my ankles in mud, up to my knees in water.
I made another step; the water rose to my thighs.
Again a step; the water was no deeper, and I felt no mud under my feet. I thought I had reached the middle.
I paused and listened. I was afraid to speak to Allen. The same monotonous dropping of water--nothing more.
We went forward, and got to the farther bank, which seemed steep. By feeling right and left, I found a foothold. I loosed Allen's hand from my coat, and stood on the bank. Allen was in the water below me.
I looked around, for I could now see a little. I could easily tell that there were no trees over my head. I seemed to be surrounded by a dense, low thicket. What was in this thicket? Likely the rebel vedettes and pickets.
My hand inadvertently came in contact with a stump. I could feel the smooth surfaces left by an axe. The tree itself was lying there, but not entirely cut from its stump. I could feel the splintered middle of the tree, still holding. I at once knew that I was in the midst of felled timber,--on the edge of a slashing or entanglement.
Were the rebel vedettes in this felled timber? Most unlikely, unless there were alleyways open for their retreat. But perhaps the strip of timber was very narrow, and the rebel vedettes were just in rear of it; perhaps it was cut only along the margin of the branch, and in order to impede and expose to hearing any enemy that might succeed in crossing the branch. But, in that case, would not the timber be a protection rather than a hindrance to the enemy advancing or stealing forward? Yes, unless the vedettes were just in rear of this very narrow strip, or unless the rebel intrenchments were in easy musket range.
These thoughts went through my mind while I was on the bank with Allen below me. I hesitated. Beyond this skirt of felled timber there might be capture, or death, or there might be no danger whatever. I was beginning to hope that there was no vedette or picket-line in these woods.
Whispering to Allen to remain where he was, I crept forward; after having made some ten paces through the entanglement, I paused and listened. There was not a sound. I crept back to Allen, and, giving him my hand, helped him up the bank. Then we both went forward until I supposed we were near the spot to which I had previously advanced. Allen was now signalled to stop, while I crept on again, and again returned to him; then both went forward as before. On this second stage of our approach we passed through to the farther side of the felled timber.
We were now on the edge of woods still standing. I feared every moment lest we should be detected by some vedette. The enemy's works ought to be very near; neither spoke to the other; abatis without intrenchments was not to be thought of. Yet I was hoping to find the intrenchments deserted.
The rain had almost entirely ceased. The night was growing. We had used up at least an hour's time, and had made an advance of less than two hundred yards.
I moved forward again--and back--alternately alone and with Allen forward--until at length I reached a road running across my line of progress.
After listening again intently and hearing nothing, I got down on my hands and knees and crawled across the road. I could tell with my hands that the road was cut up with ruts, and what I supposed were horses' tracks, but it was impossible for me to know which way the tracks headed.
Beyond the road the woods continued; I crawled on for thirty or forty yards, and found nothing.
Then I returned to Allen, and speaking low I asked him, "What do you think that skirt of felled timber means?"
"It means breastworks over there in the woods," said he.
"But I have been at least thirty yards beyond the road and there is nothing. I am beginning to believe that there is not a rebel left in these woods."
"Then," said he, "the timber was cut down with the intention of fortifying, and afterward the intention was abandoned."
"Or else it was cut down, as a blind," said I; "likely enough its purpose was merely to keep troops on this road from being seen."
"Still," said he, "they may be back farther in the woods."
I did not believe it. If this felled timber defended the approach to a rebel line, we were near enough to the line to hear many noises. The only thing I now feared was some scouting party.
It was necessary to run some risk; even if we should be fired upon, I decided that we must learn which way the movement on the road had been. I had Allen take off his cap, and while I lighted a match near the ground, he held his cap over it, and we both looked with all our eyes, moving the match back and forth over the road. The tracks all headed to our right.
Then we both stepped quickly to the farther side of the road.
"Allen," said I, "you must stay here till I return."
"Where are you going?"
"Through the woods."
"How long will you be gone?"
"A very short time. If I am not back in fifteen minutes, you must return to the pickets and report that there has already been a considerable movement on the road, and that no enemy is here. I feel certain that there are no rebels in these woods. They were here, but they have gone. I want to get to the open ground and see what is there; it will not take long."
"I'm afraid that you can't see to make your way back to this spot," said he.
"I may be compelled to whistle for you," said I; "if there is nobody in these woods, there is no danger in my whistling."
"Better take me with you," said Allen; "two pairs of eyes are better than one."
"That is true," I replied, "but some accident might happen to both of us out there, and neither of us be able to report to General Grover. Stay where you are."
I tried to go forward in a straight line so that I should be able to turn square about and make my way back to Allen. The woods became more open as I went. The rain had ceased, and I could see much better. I reached the edge of the woods, and looked out. A few stars were shining between broken clouds near the horizon in front of me--west, I thought. Toward the north, and northwest the clouds reflected some distant light, and had a reddish glow. I could distinctly hear the sounds of great movements, the rumblings of wagon, trains or artillery. The ground seemed open before me for a long distance.
I went rapidly back toward Allen, whistling. He came to meet me.
"Now, Allen," said I, "your part of this business is about over. Go back to Captain Brown and ask him to report at once to General Grover that the road shows clearly that the rebels have already moved along it to their left, our right; and that there is nobody here, all gone; gone to our right, their left, and that I have been entirely through the woods, and have found nothing, but that to the northwest there are the sounds of great movements, and that I am going to see if I cannot find out more."
"Then what am I to do after that?" he asked.
"Nothing; remain with your company. I shall not need you, for I doubt if I get back before day, and there is nothing for me to fear in this place."
Allen started one way and I another. It was now about two o'clock, I thought; the sky was almost clear, and I could see about me. I passed rapidly through the woods again and into the open ground, climbing a rail fence, and went up a very gentle slope that rose before me, an "old field," or abandoned farm, which was scattered over here and there with clumps of stunted growth. Once I paused in terror. A bush had taken, to my fancy, the form of a man. The illusion lasted but for a moment.
When I had reached the highest part of this undulation, I could see many lights--some of them in motion, but most of them stationary. The sounds of a moving army were distinct; I could hear shouts, like those of teamsters, and once I thought I could catch the command to close up.
I went on, down a gentle descent, and into a ravine which was difficult to cross, and up the rise beyond. Between me and the red glare I could distinguish objects, and I knew that if there were rebels in line before me, I should be able to see them before they could see me, so I went on without great fear, and crept to the top of this second swell of the ground.
Here there could be no doubt that the rebels were retreating. The road was full of them not four hundred yards from me. Fires were burning on both sides of the road; men and wagons were hurrying westward. Almost in front of me was a cluster of houses, which I took to be Williamsburg; fires were burning in the streets; a great throng was passing on west between the fires and between the houses. I had little doubt that I could mingle, without great danger, with the rebels, seeing that my gum-blanket would hide my uniform, and was tempted to do so; the thought was rejected, however; time was lacking; it would soon be day; I knew enough already; I could not hope to learn from the rebels much more than I now knew, and every step farther away from our lines would doubly delay my report. So I turned my back upon Williamsburg and hurried toward our pickets.
When I reached the road again, day was breaking. A vedette had been advanced to the branch by Captain Brown. I hurried on and made my report to General Grover. He at once called a courier, who mounted and rode off in haste.
On the morning of the 6th, the happiest man in the line was Willis. Everybody was glad that the enemy had retired; but Willis was bubbling over with the joy of foresight fulfilled. He rode a high horse; the rebels would make no further stand until they reached Richmond; he doubted if they would attempt to defend Richmond, even. His spirits were contagious; he did good although he was ludicrous. What would Dr. Khayme have said of Willis's influence? I supposed that the Doctor would have used the sergeant as an illustration of his doctrine that there is nothing unnecessary or false; certainly Willis encouraged us.
The weather was better and the day's work not hard. We moved but a short distance, and bivouacked.
About noon I was aroused from sleep by an order to report to Colonel Blaisdell. I had no notion, of what was wanted of me. I had never before been individually in his presence. I wondered what it meant, and hastened to his headquarters.
I saluted; the colonel returned the salute.
"You are Private Berwick?" he said.
"Yes, Colonel."
"What have you been doing?"
"In what respect, Colonel?"
"You have been absent from your company." His voice was gruff, but his eye and mouth belied his voice.
"Here," said he; "take this and read it."
I read the following: "Private Jones Berwick, Company D, Eleventh Massachusetts Volunteers, is relieved, until further orders, from duty with his company, and will hold himself ready for special service when ordered."
This order was signed by Colonel Blaisdell, and approved by General Grover.