By the Summer of 1863, after many a bloody fight on the river and on the land, they had reached Vicksburg, and Grant had drawn his lines of investment around that stronghold. Meantime their brethren of the East had ascended the river from its mouth and had taken possession of all the rebel defences on the lower Mississippi. Subsequently Farragut, being away on the Gulf coast, the rebels seized the opportunity to fortify and garrison Port Hudson, in Louisiana. There remained then at the opening of the Summer of ’63 these two strongholds, Vicksburg and Port Hudson, the retention of which was necessary to the Confederates if they would maintain their hold on the Mississippi.
Both parties to the struggle realized the importance of these positions. Jefferson Davis, while on a visit to Mississippi to inspect the defences of Vicksburg, spoke as follows in a speech at Jackson before the Mississippi Legislature: “Vicksburg and Port Hudson are the real points of attack. Every effort will be made to capture these places with the object of forcing the navigation of the Mississippi and severing the eastern from the western portion of the Confederacy. Let all then who have at heart the welfare and safety of the country go without delay to Vicksburg and Port Hudson. Let them go for thirty or sixty or ninety days. Let them assist in preserving the Mississippi River, that great artery of our country, and thus conduce more than in any other way to the perpetuation of the Confederacy and the success of our cause.”
Most people probably have a tolerably clear idea of Grant’s campaign against Vicksburg. As the history of the 48th Regiment is inseparably connected with the siege and capture of Port Hudson, it is proper that at this point some description of that place and its defences should be given.
Port Hudson is situated on a bend on the eastern side of the Mississippi about twenty-two miles north of Baton Rouge, and 147 miles from New Orleans. It is 300 miles below Vicksburg. The bluff rising abruptly some forty feet above the surface of the river was covered with fortifications for a space of nearly four miles, constructed upon the most scientific principles of military art and armed with the heaviest and most approved guns which England could furnish the Confederates.
The river as it approaches the bend suddenly narrows and the current striking the west bank is thrown across with great velocity and carries the channel almost directly under the precipitous cliffs. Any vessel attempting the passage would be compelled to run the gauntlet of a plunging fire from the batteries which commanded the river for several miles above and below. Thus it will be seen that on the river side the position was so fortified by nature and art that it was practically impregnable.
On the land side it was scarcely less so. There it was protected by a high parapet extending some seven or eight miles in a semi-circle from river to river, in front of which was a ditch from ten to twelve feet wide and six feet deep. Along nearly the whole line in front of this ditch and extending from half a mile to a mile from it was formerly a heavy growth of timber. This had all been cut down; so that in every direction the fallen tops of trees interlaced, trunks blocked up every passage and brambles were growing over the whole. Moreover, the space where this forest had stood was cut up in every direction by gullies and ravines, all containing more or less fallen timber. Under favorable circumstances, that is with a good supply of ammunition and provisions, and a garrison of 20,000 men, Port Hudson could have resisted any force that could have been brought against it.
The task of taking this stronghold fell to the lot of the Army of the Gulf, consisting mainly of the 19th Army Corps, to which the 48th M. V. M. was attached.
Two o’clock in the morning of Jan. 30, 1863. The old ship Constellation, bearing the 48th Regiment, is lying off the southwest pass of the Mississippi River and is throwing up rockets as a signal for a pilot. Presently a tug comes steaming out from the river and as daylight is breaking we leave the muddy waters of the gulf behind us, not, however, without the assistance of a second powerful tug to take us over the bar, and enter the still muddier waters of the Mississippi. For some miles the river presents no objects of interest. Low marshy shores covered with coarse sedges, fit haunts for alligators and other venomous reptiles—in all about as uninviting a place as can well be imagined. Towards noon we reach the famous Forts Jackson and St. Philip, one of which gives us a salute as we pass.
They were occupied at this time by the 26th Massachusetts Regiment who cheered us lustily as we passed. At 9 o’clock A. M., January 31, arrived at quarantine where the ship was boarded by the health officer, who discovered no reason to detain us, although so very recently having been scourged by the ship fever, and he declared us “all right” and gave us a clean bill.
The only evidence of the desperate fight of the year before when Farragut ran the gauntlet of these forts are the remnants of several rebel gunboats which were destroyed during the fight and driven as high as possible on the banks of the river, and the Union sloop-of-war Varuna, which lay on the bottom of this river with only the tops of her masts out of water. After passing the forts, as we approach New Orleans the country becomes somewhat more interesting. We pass some fine plantations with stately mansions, large sugar houses and long rows of cabins, the habitations of the blacks. Much of the way we run close to the bank and as we turn bend after bend in the river we are tantalized by the sight of orange groves laden with the luscious fruit—so near and yet so far. We see very few white men. Most of them have doubtless gone into the rebel army. Now and then a planter standing on the bank gazes at us sullenly as we pass. It seemed evident that they were not over-pleased to see us. Our only welcome was from the negroes. Their shouts from the levee, accompanied by laughter and frantic gesticulations, bespoke their joy. One white man, bolder than his fellows, shouted the inquiry: “What regiment is that?” and being informed he imparted the cheerful information that we had come all the way from Massachusetts to find our graves—a prophecy which proved true of many a boy on board that ship.