Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens

We at length became so accustomed to the continual skirmishing, that unless the firing was in fierce volleys we took no notice of it. The boys of the Thirty-third New York being on the skirmish line on the 8th, charged a rifle pit with shouts and hurrahs, and drove the rebels from it. An attempt was made to retake it, but the boys held their ground.

The men performed herculean labors on the roads, and in throwing up earthworks. No rest was allowed. When not on picket they were cutting down trees or throwing up earthworks or building bridges. Such constant labor soon began to exhaust the strength of the stoutest, and hundreds of them yielded to disease who supposed themselves capable of enduring any amount of hardships. Yet there was now and then a grimly gay episode in this hard routine. Here is an incident that occurred two or three days after we approached the works, and affords a good sample of picketing between us and the forts. Our pickets were within speaking distance of those of the enemy; each party kept, if possible, snugly behind some big stump or tree, out of the reach of his disagreeable neighbors. A good deal of hard talk had passed between one of our pickets and one of the "Johnnies." Finally the rebel thrust his hand beyond his tree holding in it a bottle, and shaking it, challenged the Yankee to come and take it—"crack" went the Yankee's rifle at the hand. "Ha, ha! why don't you hit it? What do you think of Bull Run?" "How do you like Fort Donelson?" responded the Yankee.

While this colloquy was going on, Yankee number two crept round behind a log, and drawing on the southerner, blazed away at him. The son of chivalry clapped his hand to his shoulder and ran off howling. "There, you fool," shouted Yankee number one, "I told you that blind man would be shooting you pretty soon."

The country about us was uncultivated and unhealthy. The lands were low and swampy, and mostly covered with a heavy growth of yellow pines. The few remaining inhabitants were mostly women, negresses and children; now and then a disabled specimen of poor white trash, or a farmer too infirm to be of service in the rebel army, was to be met with. All were alike destitute of enterprise, and the houses upon the "plantations" were of the meanest order, raised three or four feet above the ground upon posts without the usual foundation of stone. The "plantations" consisted usually of about ten or twenty acres of cleared land in the midst of the forest, with narrow roads among the pines leading to neighboring plantations.

The writer inquired of the proprietor of one of these isolated spots, who also had some forty negro women and children, how he managed to support so large a family from the proceeds of so little land. "Well," said he, "I could not support them from the proceeds of the land alone, but you see I sell a few negroes every year and buy corn with the money; so with what we raise and what we get for the sale of the negroes, we get along very well."

"But why do you not cut down some of this forest and till more land? You own a large tract of land which is entirely worthless as it now is."

"There is where you are greatly mistaken, said the enterprising southerner, my timber land is my best property." But of what use do you make it? "Oh, I sell a great deal of wood. I take it to Fortress Monroe and Hampton and get two dollars and a half a cord for it!"

The reader will perhaps understand the profits drawn from the wood lands, when it is remembered that Fortress Monroe was twenty miles distant.

Night attacks by the enemy became common; and it was not an unfrequent occurrence for the whole division to be called suddenly to arms at midnight and stand in line until morning. Skirmishes and sharpshooting continued with little intermission; bullets of rebel riflemen whizzing through our camps or unceremoniously entering our tents at all times. Rebel gunboats approached the mouth of the Warwick and by their assistance the rebel infantry attempted to turn our left flank, but the troops of our division gallantly met their attack and drove them back.

This state of affairs continued until the 16th of April. That morning, word passed through the division that we were to make an assault. Orders came to move, and the division was massed near some ruins, known as "The Chimneys," in front of one of the rebel forts; the Second brigade holding the front line, supported by the First and Third brigades. As we moved round to take our positions, an American eagle whirled above our heads in elegant circles and at length floated away toward the south, the boys swinging their hats and cheering the bird with loud huzzahs.