The next day their artillery opened on the right of the town, but the lay of the ground in front of our works was such that it was really our strongest point. A few of their infantry advanced into a ravine in our front, and were unable to extricate themselves until dark.
During the day the town was pretty effectually shelled, and a caisson was blown up on each side. Our navy being entirely gone, the ram "Albemarle" did good service for the enemy, with ninety and two hundred pound shot.
Three separate times were we asked to surrender and save further sacrifice of life, but each was peremptorily declined. General Hoke (rebel) the last time replying, "I will fill your citadel full of iron; I will compel your surrender, if I have to fight to the last man."
There was no doubt now but what we must succumb sooner or later. There was no hope unless reinforced, and that could not be as long as the ram was in the river. The men built bombproofs and traverses, which were a great protection.
Late in the evening, Co. "G" was ordered to the left of the town, on the Columbia road. They lay there during the night, preventing the gunners on the ram from sighting their guns and coming on deck; they also had two little brushes with cavalry, who broke through the line to procure beef that was in a yard near by. The enemy, meanwhile, were concentrating nearly half their force opposite this point.
By 4.30 o'clock on the morning of the 20th, (I find from their accounts,) they had ten regiments of infantry, four battalions of artillery, (Pegram's, Blunt's, Marshall's, and Lee's,) and two companies of cavalry, besides the "Albemarle" and "Cotton Plant." This must have made a force of five or six thousand in line about six hundred yards in front of our works. At this hour a rocket was sent up as the signal for the attack, and a more furious charge we never witnessed. Instantly over our heads came a peal of thunder from the ram. Up rose a curling wreath of smoke—the batteries had opened, and quickly flashed fierce forks of flame—loud and earth-shaking roars in quick succession. Lines of men came forth from the woods—the battle had begun.
Company G, being on the skirmish line, fell back and entered "Coneby redoubt," properly barred the gate and manned the works. The enemy, with yells, charged on the works, in heavy column, jumped into the ditch, climbed the parapet, and, with the artillery company (who had previously occupied the redoubt), for fifteen murderous minutes, were shot down like mown grass. The conflict was bloody, short, and decisive. The enemy were in such numbers that we had to yield. The gate had been crushed down by rebel shot, and the enemy poured in to the number of five or six hundred, with thousands on the outside. Great confusion then ensued; guns were spiked, musket barrels bent, and all sorts of mischief practiced by the Union soldiers, while the enemy were swearing at a terrible rate, because we would not take off equipments and inform them if the guns could be turned on the town, and in trying to reorganize their troops, who were badly mixed, to take the next work. We were prisoners, and as we marched out of the fort we could see at what a fearful cost it was to them. There were in the fort at the time, forty artillery men, who fired grape and canister, and forty-two of Company "G," (two being unable to get in, or not hearing the orders, went back to town,) making a total of eighty-two men, against five or six thousand. Our loss was one wounded, an artillery man, while the rebel loss, from their latest accounts, was five hundred killed and wounded. The enemy then passed in the rear and on the bank of the river, to the right of the town, and while part of their force was on the right working towards the center, those on the left were doing the same. Every position was obstinately maintained. A squad of men here, and a squad there, the redoubts and forts were but slowly captured. For three or four hours, Fort Williams, with guns turned, did murderous execution, nearly two hours of which was in the streets of Plymouth. By half-past ten o'clock the last gun had been fired, the flag over our citadel lowered, and Plymouth had fallen.
The troops were captured by an overwhelming force, after one of the severest fights of the war. In the words of J.W. Merrill, the author of "Records of the Twenty-fourth N.Y. Battery," "there is no question that the defense of Plymouth by its garrison of 1,600 men against a besieging force of 12,000 men, was one of the hardest fought battles of the war." The rebels raised the "black flag" against the negroes found in uniform, and mercilessly shot them down.
The shooting in cold blood of three or four hundred negroes and two companies of North Carolina troops who had joined our army, and even murdering peaceable citizens (as I have the personal knowledge of the killing, with the butt-end of a musket, of Mr. Spruell, the man whom I boarded with, and by the way, a secessionist, for objecting to the plundering of a trunk which he had packed), were scenes of which the Confederates make no mention, except the hanging of one person, but of which many of us were eye-witnesses, was but the Fort Pillow massacre re-enacted.
The following order was issued the day after the capture by Gen. Peck: