Wilderness.
Through all those long hours of conflict there was patient endurance in front of the enemy. There were temporary successes and reverses on both sides. In only a single instance was there permanent advantage to Lee, and that he had not the power to improve. It was at the close of the contest on the 6th. The sun had gone down, and twilight was deepening into night. The wearied men of Rickett's division of the Sixth Corps, in the front line of battle on the right, had thrown themselves upon the ground. Suddenly there was a rush upon their flank. There was musketry, blinding flashes from cannon, and explosions of shells. The line which had stood firmly through the day gave way, not because it was overpowered, but because it was surprised. General Seymour and a portion of his brigade were taken prisoners. There was a partial panic, which soon subsided. The second line remained firm, the enemy was driven back, and the disaster repaired by swinging the Sixth Corps round to a new position, covered by the reserve artillery.
On the morning of the 7th the pickets reported that Lee had fallen back. Reconnoitring parties said that he was throwing up entrenchments. Grant was thoughtful through the day. He said but little. He had a cigar in his mouth from morning till night. I saw him many times during the day, deeply absorbed in thought. He rode along the centre, and examined the Rebel lines towards Parker's store. At times a shell or solid shot came from the Rebel batteries through the thick forest growth, but other than this there was but little fighting. Grant determined to make a push for Spottsylvania, and put his army between Lee and Richmond. By noon the trains were in motion, having been preceded by Sheridan with the cavalry, followed by the Ninth Corps, and then the Fifth on a parallel road. But Lee had the shortest line. He was on the alert, and there was a simultaneous movement of the Rebel army on a shorter line.
The Second, Fifth, and Sixth Corps took the Block road, while the Ninth, with the trains, moved by Chancellorsville, over the battle-ground of the preceding summer, where the bones of those who fell in that struggle were bleaching unburied in the summer air.
It was eleven P. M. on Saturday evening, May 7th, when Generals Grant and Meade, accompanied by their cavalry escorts, left the Wilderness head-quarters of General Hancock for a ride to Todd's Tavern, a place of two or three houses, exhibiting the usual degree of thriftlessness which characterized the Old Dominion. Twice during the ride we ran into the Rebel pickets, and were compelled to take by-paths through fields and thickets. General Grant rode at a break-neck speed. How exciting! The sudden flashing of Rebel muskets in front, the whiz of the minnie projectile over our heads, the quick halt and right about face,—our horses stumbling over fallen timber and stumps, the clanking of sabres, the clattering of hoofs, the plunge into brambles, the tension of every nerve, the strain upon all the senses, the feeling of relief when we are once more in the road, and then the gallop along the narrow way, beneath the dark pines of the forest, till brought to a halt by the sudden challenge from our own sentinel! It is a fast life that one leads at such a time. When the reaction sets in the system is as limp as a wilted cabbage-leaf.
"Where are you going?" was the question of a cavalryman as we halted a moment.
"To Spottsylvania."
"I reckon you will have a scrimmage before you get there," said he.