Warren, on advancing his line of skirmishers, and viewing the strong works thrown up by the enemy during the night, had sent word that he could not carry the position before him. And General Meade had ordered the whole movement to be discontinued for the time.
Never before, in the history of our army, had such elaborate preparations been made for an attack. Every commander and every man knew exactly the part he was expected to take in the great encounter, and each had prepared himself for it. At the hospitals everything was in a state of perfect readiness. Hospital tents were all up, beds for the wounded prepared, operating tables were in readiness, basins and pails stood filled with water, lint and dressings were laid out upon the tables, and surgical instruments spread out ready for the grasp of the surgeon.
All day the men remained suffering with cold, their hunger but partially satisfied with hard bread without coffee. It was a day of discomfort and suffering long to be remembered. It chanced that the hard bread issued to our division was old and very wormy. It was, in some cases, difficult for a man to know whether his diet was to be considered principally animal or vegetable. Our General, Neill, sat with his staff munching some of these crackers of doubtful character, when he was handed one unusually animated. The general broke the cracker, examined it for a moment, and, handing it back to the servant, said, "Jim, give us one that hasn't so many worms in it." Many of the men who were on the picket line that day and the night before, were found, when the relief came around, dead at their posts, frozen.
During the night of December 1st and 2d, the army withdrew from Mine Run. The pickets were directed to build fires and keep up a show of force. Our Seventy-seventh being that night on the picket line, formed the rear of the rear-guard of the army on its retreat. It was three o'clock in the morning of December 2d when the picket line was silently withdrawn. After a rapid march, it crossed the pontoon bridge at Germania Ford at ten o'clock. Scarcely had the troops crossed the bridge, when the cavalry of the enemy made its appearance on the south side of the river. The Seventy-seventh New York, the Third Vermont and a battery of artillery were directed to remain and guard the ford, while the remainder of the army continued the march to the old camps. Next morning the two regiments and the battery started for Brandy Station, and that night slept in their old quarters.
It was now evident that we were in permanent winter quarters. It is not our purpose to discuss the merits of this fruitless campaign, but it may not be out of place to recall some of the facts relating to it. The orders for marching on the 26th, were issued to all the corps commanders on the evening previous, indicating the time for leaving camp. The Sixth corps was to follow the Third, yet when the Sixth corps reached the camp of that corps, there were no signs of moving. Several hours were thus lost on the start. General French declared that the order to move did not reach him on the previous evening, yet he knew that the movement was expected that day. As the result of this and other delays, two corps did not reach the position assigned them on the 26th.
When, on the morning of the 27th, General French moved his corps again, he took the wrong road, and thus brought on a premature engagement, which caused another delay of twenty-four hours. By this time Lee had ample opportunity to concentrate his whole army in a strong position on Mine Run. Had General Meade's orders been promptly obeyed, Lee could have offered no opposition to us at that point, and must have accepted battle much nearer Richmond.
Our campaigns for 1863 were now finished; the last two of these had certainly been remarkable episodes in the fortunes of our stout-hearted army. In October, the rebel army had followed us from the Rapidan to the defenses of Washington, and in turn we had pursued the confederates back to the Rapidan, all without a battle of any magnitude. Now, in November, our whole army had crossed the river and confronted the rebel army face to face for days, and again we were back in our old camps without an engagement, except the fight of the Third corps, and some skirmishing on the part of others.
During the month of December, general orders were issued from the war department offering to soldiers of the army, who had already served two years, and who had still a year or less to serve, large bounties, a release from the term of their former enlistment and thirty-five days' furlough, as inducements for them to reënlist for three years from that time. Much excitement was created by the order throughout the army, and thousands accepted it, nearly all claiming that they cared little for the large bounties, but that the thirty-five days' furlough was the great inducement.
The only military movement of the winter was Kilpatrick's great raid upon Richmond, in which the lamented Dahlgren lost his life.
Simultaneous with this great raid, General Custer, with a division of cavalry, made a movement on Charlottesville, and the Sixth corps was ordered to move in that direction as support to the cavalry. On Saturday, February 27th, the corps, leaving its camp and sick in charge of a small guard, marched through Culpepper and proceeded to James City, a Virginia city of two or three houses, where the bivouac for the night was made. Next morning the corps marched slowly to Robertson's River, within three miles of Madison Court House, the New Jersey brigade alone crossing the river and proceeding as far as the latter village. Here the corps lay all the following day, and as the weather was pleasant, the men passed the time in sports and games, but at evening a cold storm of rain set in, continuing all night and the next day, to the great discomfort of all. Custer's cavalry returned at evening of the 1st of March, looking in a sorry plight from their long ride in the mud. Reveille sounded at five o'clock on the morning of March 2d, and at seven the corps turned toward the old camp, at which it arrived, after a severe march through the mud, at sunset the same day.