Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens

On Tuesday, the 28th of April, the Sixth corps received orders to break up its camp and be ready to march at a moment's notice. Eight days' rations had been issued to the men, who were in the highest spirits, having forgotten all their former discouragements, and were now only anxious for an encounter with the enemy. A storm of rain of some violence set in on the morning of the 28th, which rendered marching difficult. At twelve o'clock we received the order to "fall in," and in five minutes we were on our way to take our place in the line of battle. A march of six miles through thickets and bogs, brought us to the rear of Falmouth Station, at a short distance from the river. Here we bivouacked for the night, and were awakened before daylight in the morning by the sound of artillery and musketry at the river, where Russell's brigade, of the First division, was forcing a passage across the stream. The Second division only had been allowed to rest quietly during the night. The men of the Light brigade had toiled from dark until nearly dawn, carrying the pontoon boats on their shoulders to the river side, and launching them in the stream. So noiselessly had they conducted their operations, that the pickets of the enemy took no alarm until they suddenly saw the braves of Russell's brigade approaching in the boats, just as dawn was breaking. The astonished confederates fired a few volleys of musketry, and our guns threw among them a few charges of cannister, and the rebels fled precipitately. A number of prisoners were captured, among them the officer of the picket-guard. Colonel Irwin, of the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania, who had, at Antietam, commanded the Third brigade of the Second division, was among the wounded on our side.

At sunrise the Second division filed down to the river side, and took position in line of battle. Our horses cropped the green blades which had sprung from the grain scattered for their food nearly five months before. The division was upon the very spot where it lay before, at the first battle of Fredericksburgh. The bridge also was in the same place that Franklin's bridge had been. The point was known as Franklin's Crossing.

The First division of our corps (Brook's) was on the other side of the river, holding the plain for some distance. The pickets of that division formed the half of a circle of about three-fourths of a mile in diameter, the center being at the pontoon bridge, where some earthworks were thrown up. At our left, about a mile down the river, the First corps had also effected a crossing. The rebels had offered strong resistance, but the crossing was gallantly accomplished by Wadsworth's division in boats. Like the First division of our own corps, Wadsworth's division was holding a semi-circular portion of the plateau; but being able to maintain the position by some fighting.

Sickles' Third corps was upon the high ground in the rear, ready to come to the assistance of the corps at the river. The three corps, First, Third and Sixth, were under command of General Sedgwick.

The rebels spent the day in throwing up intrenchments and shelling Reynolds' position. Toward night the artillery practice ceased, and the First and Sixth corps bivouacked where they had stood during the day, but Sickles and his corps were ordered to the assistance of Hooker, on the right.

The morning of the 30th was lowery, but the clouds dispersed as the day advanced. About noon the troops were massed by brigades, and a congratulatory order from General Hooker was read to them, amid great cheering. "The enemy," said the order, "must now come out and fight us on our ground, or retreat ingloriously." Nothing more of interest occurred that day; but, in the afternoon of the following day, the First corps became engaged in a fierce artillery duel with the enemy, in which the corps lost a large number of its men in killed and wounded. At sunset an order came from General Hooker, at Chancellorsville, for General Sedgwick to assume a threatening attitude—to make a severe demonstration—but to make no attack. There was much marching and getting into position, and regiments and divisions were marched and countermarched in such a manner as to convey to the rebels the impression that a grand attack was to be made at that point. The enemy was evidently deceived by these maneuvers, and heavy columns of rebel infantry commenced to form upon the old battle-field. While we stood in line of battle, one of our bands near the skirmish line struck up the air, "Dixie." The rebels, hearing the strains, set up defiant cheers, which were answered by our army in the most tremendous shouts imaginable. The contest seemed for the time to depend on strength of lung, and our boys certainly beat them at shouting.

As the sun disappeared behind the hills, when Hooker's guns were thundering, we retired to our tents. All day long the earth had been shaken by tremendous firing of artillery on the right; and now, as darkness gathered over the scenes of conflict, the thundering of the guns and the trembling of the earth seemed like a succession of earthquakes. The spirit of our boys rose, as the battle on the right progressed, and there seemed to be indications of work for them. Groups might be seen at any time, when we were not standing in line of battle, telling yarns, singing songs, playing ball and pitching quoits, while they momentarily looked for the order to advance upon the heights, into the very jaws of death.

Saturday morning, May 2d, the First corps was withdrawn from its position; its bridges were taken up, and the corps moved past us up the river to join the main body of the army under Hooker, on the right. The Seventy-seventh was sent to do picket duty on the ground occupied by the First corps the night before. Our reserve was posted a little way from the river, in a pleasant field, where the fresh clover furnished a soft bed for the men, and a dainty bite for our horses. Just in front of us was a lovely spot—the residence of Doctor Morson, for fifteen years a surgeon in the United States navy. The place was in remarkable order; the gardens in full bloom, the mocking birds building their nests, and the greenlets warbling sweetly among the flowering shrubs.

We strolled along the banks of the beautiful river, gathering flowers and glancing at our "secesh" neighbors on the opposite bank, only a few yards distant; or we lounged in the shade of our tents, enjoying the charms of a lovely May day, while the terrible din of battle on the right, where Hooker's forces were contending, shook the ground beneath us, and we knew that ere the sun set, thousands of our brave comrades must be sacrificed.

As the evening drew near, we who were on the north side of the river saw our skirmishers, of the "Light division", drive back the skirmish line of the enemy. It was a gallant feat, and finely executed. Our hearts leaped for joy as we watched our brave fellows, their line as perfect as though on drill, advance, firing rapidly, and pressing the enemy at "double-quick." They made no halt until they had crossed the whole breadth of the plain and reached the base of the hills.