Three years in the Sixth Corps

by George T. Stevens

Pontoons and batteries of artillery formed long lines behind the little ridge which runs parallel with the river, and the infantry marched and countermarched to get in right positions. Here, behind the little ridge, we rested, until about five o'clock in the afternoon, our men mounting the ridge, and gazing across the river, where the enemy had turned the rifle pits thrown up by our First division, to their own use; and, in return, the rebels raised their heads above the breastworks, or ventured to the river side, wondering what could be the intention of the army, so recently driven from these grounds, in making such preparations for another crossing. There seemed but a small force opposed to us; a strong picket on the bank, and the reserve posted behind the breastworks, were all that could be seen, though we well knew that the heights beyond swarmed with opposing hosts, as they had twice before. At length the engineers drew the pontoons to the edge of the river, the Seventy-seventh being detailed to assist in unloading. The rebels betook themselves to the rifle pits, and opened a brisk fire; but presently they were glad to draw their heads behind the earthworks, for five of our batteries, Williston's, McCartney's, Cowen's, Haines' and McCarthey's, were run out upon the plain, and opened a fierce fire, whole batteries firing by volleys, until the whole plain, on the further side, was a sheet of flame from the bursting shells, and huge clouds of dust, plowed up by the shrieking missiles, rose so as to obscure the heights. The rebels could only load, and thrust their guns above the earthworks, firing at random, for no man could raise his head without coming in the way of the fiery messengers of death, which filled the air. Still their fire, although at random, was annoying, and it was evident that the safest method was to cross men in boats, enough to drive the rebels from their pits, or capture them, and then build the bridge without opposition.

The Twenty-sixth New Jersey and Fifth Vermont regiments leaped into the boats, quickly crossed, and, rushing from the bank, charged upon the pits. The rebels were now, for the first time offered an opportunity for flight; for while the artillery was filling the whole plain with bursting shells, there remained no alternative but to hug the earth behind the rifle pits; now that the artillery ceased, they scattered across the plain in hot haste, before the rapid charge of our boys. The two regiments pursued the fugitives, and many of them threw down their arms; we captured about seventy-five prisoners; of these, thirty-six were captured by Captain Davenport, who, with eighteen of his men, was marching up the ravine through which passes the Deep Run, when they came upon the rebels, whom they obliged to surrender, their captain delivering his sword to Captain Davenport. Five or six men of the engineers were killed, and some wounded. The Vermonters and New Jerseymen, also, had a few men wounded.

The Seventy-seventh had one man killed. Sergeant Rex Haines was shot through the head. He was a brave man, and one of the best soldiers in the regiment. He had, until that very day, been confined to the hospital with severe illness. A few of our men, also, received slight wounds.

The engineers proceeded at once to lay the bridges, and on the following morning the whole division crossed. Our picket reserve made their rendezvous at the ruins of the fine mansion which we had used for our Second division hospital at the first battle. Now nothing but the bare walls and heaps of rubbish marked the place where the beautiful residence had stood. A regiment of Mississippians had occupied the place, and had ruthlessly and willfully burned it. Yet the fine chestnuts and broad-spreading oaks afforded as luxurious a shade as in the palmy days when the old bachelor proprietor lounged beneath their shadow.

The picket line extended nearly to the railroad, and, as before, formed a semi-circle, radiating from the pontoon bridge. The enemy had also formed a strong picket to oppose us, and the two lines of skirmishers were within a few yards of each other.

It was a beautiful Sabbath, and all day long the troops lay upon the plain, wondering what was to be done. There were the frowning batteries of the enemy on the hills in front, apparently able to blow the whole division into the air, and we could, with our glasses, discover great numbers of infantry at the base of the hills, half hidden by the low growth of pines. The main body of our army still remained in camp; only our Sixth corps had moved. Evidently the enemy concluded that the advance was rather one of observation than attack, and quietly awaited our movements. Some firing was for a time kept up on the skirmish line, and now and then a shell would come crashing through some of the houses at the right, where our pickets were concealed; but at length, by mutual consent, the pickets of each army watched the movements of their opponents without molesting them. During this quasi-truce, a spirit of sociability manifested itself, and our boys soon struck up an acquaintance with their dangerous neighbors. At length an exchange of papers was proposed, and upon mutual agreement of temporary amity, a Yankee and a Johnnie would step into the open space between the two lines, shake hands, inquire each other's regiment, trade papers and retire.

There came at this time, to each company of one regiment, a copy of the New York Observer, Independent, Christian Examiner, Evangelist and other papers, and Mr. Alvord, the agent of the Tract Society, had just been among the men, distributing copies of the American Messenger. These were soon collected and carried over to be exchanged for copies of the Richmond Enquirer, Sentinel, and Examiner. The trade was not kept wholly within the limits of literary exchange, but sugar and coffee passed into the rebels' hands in return for plugs of tobacco. At length an order came from division head-quarters, stopping this illicit practice. Our boys declared that they were acting the part of colporteurs to the barbarian rebels, and, if they had been allowed to continue the distribution of religious papers among them, they would soon be convinced of the error of their ways, and desist from further fighting.

During the night of the 8th, our division was withdrawn to the north side of the river, our place being taken by the Third division. We retired to Stafford Heights and bivouacked. Our bivouac became our encampment for a week. There we lay, wondering what was next to be done, while the artillery on either side exchanged shots. The 32-pounders on our hills sending their huge shot across to the opposite heights, and the rebel guns replying, sometimes with shells of most improved pattern, and at other times throwing over huge pieces of railroad iron.

An incident of much interest to Neill's brigade occurred while we were here. A lieutenant, belonging to the Twenty-first New Jersey regiment, had been tried by a court-martial, and convicted of cowardice at the battle on May 3d. The whole brigade was brought out at the hour for evening parade, and formed in a hollow square. To the center of the inclosure the culprit was brought. His sentence was then read to him, which was that he be dismissed the service in disgrace. The adjutant-general of the brigade then proceeded to execute the details of the sentence. The sword of the cowardly officer was taken from him and broken over his head; his shoulder-straps and buttons were then cut off, and his pistol broken and thrown away. The sentence, and the manner of its execution, were ordered to be published in the newspapers of the county where the regiment was raised. A similar sentence was executed in the Seventy-seventh regiment on the same evening. Lewis Burke, of Company F, was convicted of cowardice at the same battle. He was brought before the regiment, which stood in line; his sentence read, his buttons and the blue cord on his coat cut off, and a placard marked "Coward" hung to his back. A guard, with fixed bayonets pointing at his back, then marched him off, the band playing "The Rogues' March." Burke went to serve out his time at the Dry Tortugas at hard labor, without pay or allowance.

As we looked upon the execution of these humiliating sentences, we could not help feeling how much better it would have been to have fallen nobly on that field of battle, honored and lamented, than to live to be thus degraded and despised. It had never been so forcibly impressed upon our minds, how much better it was to die nobly than to live in disgrace. When we thought of the noble Wheeler and his brave companions, who had given their lives for their country on yonder heights, and then turned to the sickening scene before us, we could but exclaim, "How are the dead to be envied!"