It is seldom that one in the ranks has a chance to see much of a battle except what may be happening in his own regiment. Such an opportunity came to my chum and me at Totopotomy the afternoon of May 31st, 1864, when we witnessed the charge in open field of a Confederate division and heard for the first time the real Rebel yell, which was so unlike the cheers of the Union soldiers.
After the assault of our division in the forenoon, matters settled down and there was comparative quiet for a couple of hours. About 2 o’clock we heard some lively cannonading over to the right and Coleman, who was one of those boys that always wanted to see all that was going on, suggested that we walk over that way. We found a battery of artillery in an advanced position shelling a piece of woods. The captain sat upon a camp stool dressed in a white duck suit and gave directions to his men as though it was target practice. We two boys stood on the earthworks and watched the effect of the exploding shells as they cut off the limbs of the trees or ploughed up the sod in the field in front of the woods. We learned from the artillerymen that the Confederates were massing troops preparatory to making a charge. Soon the rebel yell broke loose and a long line of gray came out of the woods and moved forward in perfect formation. Not a soldier wavered. The scene was thrilling and we were quite unmindful of the fact that our position was a dangerous one. The Confederate troops were supported by a number of pieces of artillery and the gunners had a perfect range on our battery and their shells were soon bursting all about us. Coleman and I quit our sight-seeing from the top of the breastworks and got down behind them, peeping out occasionally to watch the movements of the advancing enemy. When they had got within close range our battery opened on them with case shot and cannister, cutting swaths in the ranks of the advancing forces, but they would close up and come on and it looked as though the battery was lost. The captain had received orders to withdraw, but it was too late for him to get away with his guns so he concluded to stay and do the best he could. Several of his horses were killed and disabled and one of the caissons was blown up. Just when it looked as though the rebels were going to sweep everything before them we heard a loud, long cheer and a division of the gallant old 5th Corps double-quicked out to meet them and turned the tide the other way, and soon the Johnnies were in full retreat. They left many dead and wounded in our front, Gen. Ramsey being among the killed.
This was one of the most spectacular engagements that I ever witnessed and was about the only one where I had a good opportunity to watch the effects of artillery fire directed against a charging column. Need I say that it was not necessary to keep a diary of such experiences. They were indelibly impressed on my memory as I doubt not they were on that of all other participants.
CHAPTER X.
BLOODY COLD HARBOR.
The next move in the great game of war between Grant and Lee was Cold Harbor—a name indelibly impressed upon every survivor of the campaign. It recalls two weeks of hunger, thirst, hardships that language is inadequate to describe; unsuccessful assaults and losses, that tell the story of most desperate fighting. It was Greek against Greek, veteran against veteran.
No one seems to know why the place was so named for, as Pat. Devereaux of our company expressed it, “’twas no harbor at all, and divil a drop of water to make ’wan wid.” Grant considered it an important point, however, and tried to get there ahead of Lee, but as a “comrade in gray” expressed it, “Uncle Robert wasn’t caught napping anywhere.”
Our corps reached there at a little past 6 the morning of June 2, after an all-night march with the heat and dust oppressive beyond description. An attack had been ordered for the morning, but was postponed because of the exhausted condition of the troops.