The Empty Sleeve / or, The Life and Hardships of Henry H. Meacham, in the Union Army

by Henry H. Meacham

We were well supplied with rations, but the hardships were too much for us; we daily grew weak and poor, and at that time, it did not seem that I could keep with them much longer. But I little knew then what a man can stand if obliged to.

When we left Spottsylvania, we marched in a southerly direction, crossing the Po and Tar Rivers, and after a long and tiresome march, we arrived at the North Anna River. This we crossed at one of the fords, the first that we knew the foe were near; and the orders given to make no noise in crossing. The banks were very steep on the southern side. After crossing and ascending the hill, we formed our lines (there was not more than a brigade that crossed at that time), and commenced our advance. We had not far to go before coming in contact with the rebel pickets, to whom we paid no attention, but kept steadily along, when they broke in utter confusion, and retreated back to their general lines. We advanced but a short distance before halting and building breastworks; but we could not get them completed before the rebels were upon us again, with twice our number. They halted a moment at our first volley; but again they started and pressed on, but to no purpose, for the incessant stream of fire and leaden hail was more than they could stand. They succeeded in turning our right, which brought them in range of our artillery, when seventeen pieces opened on them. This was more than they could endure, and what were left fled back, leaving their dead and wounded in our hands, with many prisoners. Their loss was heavy, while ours was very light. The next morning, we advanced to Nolen's Station, on the Virginia Central road, and commenced tearing up the track. After we had completed this, the weather was rainy and the night dark.

We recrossed the river, and started towards Richmond. After marching about two miles, we halted to draw rations, and the rations for the picket were left behind. The company commissary and myself were left to guard them. We remained until ten o'clock the next day, when we started in pursuit of our corps, they having twelve hours the start. We marched nearly all night, and on the second morning came up to the regiment just as they were starting out on a reconnoissance. I there got a pass to march in the rear, but to come to the regiment that night. Oh, how thankful I was to get a chance to rest my feet, for they were badly blistered and very sore. That morning, we had for breakfast fried chicken (one that we had captured on our march) and sweet potatoes. It was the best meal that I had while I was in the service. When we got a little rested, we started again in pursuit of the regiment, which we found without any difficulty. We had a good night's rest, but when morning came, we had to take the advance. We moved about two miles, skirmishing most of the way. Finally, we made a charge, and drove the enemy from the heights. There we rested a few moments, and charged again, but to no purpose; we could not drive them away from their works. The fighting was very hard; our loss was very heavy. We lost in that charge some of the best men of the regiment, and we mourned their loss as we would a brother. But owing to the hardness of our work that day, we were allowed to fall back, and rest for a few days, which we needed very much.

At this place, General Grant rode along the lines. The men's cheers were almost deafening. We were then near Shady Grove Church, but in a short time the move commenced for Coal Harbor. On account of a colonel in the Ninth Corps withdrawing his men before orders, we were left in a bad position, for the enemy were on three sides, and near enough for the shells to come among us from all directions. This was a critical position. But as darkness overspread the field of action, we had stopped their advance. In the morning, our lines were strengthened, and were ordered to charge. The enemy had fortified during the night. The Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry, dismounted, here joined our brigade. They were a grand set of men, numbering eleven hundred; while our Thirty-second was now reduced to two hundred, and we had lost about five hundred. We formed under the enemy's musketry fire, after getting over our breastworks. Then the order to advance rang through the lines. On we went, until nearly out of breath, when we saw the enemy leaving their first line of works, and retreating behind their second; but their artillery made sad havoc in our lines. When we got to the breastworks, we opened fire on them before they could recover from the panic.

I beheld several vacant places in my company when I looked round. There was a man who fought almost by my side, who was shot, the ball passing through the jugular vein of the neck. He fell at my feet, and died in a few moments. We had four to bury belonging to Company E, and there were two mortally wounded.

The next morning, the enemy had left, and we started for Coal Harbor. At this place, we did not have much fighting to do, our duty being picket in the Chickahominy Swamps. Here I saw where General McClellan's men were stationed, the trees being marked with name, regiment, company, and depth of water. I should have thought more would have died than did, for the water was nearly waist-deep; and there the men had to stand, when they might have stood a few rods in the rear, and had dry ground to stand on. These swamps are a dismal place. The river at this point is so narrow that you can fell a tree across it, and then cross on the tree. It is very muddy and deep. The two picket-lines were friendly. We did not fire at each other, but often passed to the centre of the stream, and there traded coffee for tobacco and hard-bread for corn-meal. We tried all we could to get them to desert, and were often successful. A good many of them got tired of the war, and wished it would close. I did not blame them for that, for their cause looked dark, and there was not much probability of success. Still, they thought we could not take Richmond. After doing picket-duty a few days, we were ordered to cross the river, and move toward White Oak Swamps, and destroy the bridge there. We were in support of the cavalry, which went and did the work; it took all day.

We started on another flank movement towards the James River. It was a hard march, all day and part of the night, not leaving us much time to rest. When we arrived there, we pitched our tents in a wheat-field, and commenced gathering wheat for bread. The guard were stationed about half a mile in advance of the camp, under the command of the major of the Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry. We arrived on the line after dark. In the morning, he ordered an advance of fifty rods, which brought us into the woods. We hurried and got our breakfast, for we saw that the major wanted to show his authority, and we expected another move; and so it was, for in the course of an hour, he ordered an advance of a mile and a half in line. The men were stationed five paces apart. The advance commenced, but we had not gone more than half the distance, before the line was broken, and it was noon before it was formed again. We made some raids; I got for my share two nice salt shad and a small bag of corn-meal. Thus wore away the day. Late in the afternoon, we returned to the old line, were relieved, and went to our camp for the night. The next morning, we crossed the James River. At what point we landed I never knew; our brigade was among the first that crossed. At last, the lines were ordered forward, although it was four o'clock in the afternoon. The sun was pouring down its intolerable heat, and it did not seem as though man or beast could live. There was no air in motion; but we must go, or die in the attempt. We marched from four o'clock until about seven without halting, when the doctor rode ahead of the column and directed a halt. The orders then came that we should stop five minutes every hour, and that every man should keep in his place who possibly could, for we were to be at Petersburg at two o'clock that night, a distance of twenty miles. We could, at this time, plainly hear the sound of the cannon. On we went, our road being lighted by the burning of the houses on the way, not one of which was left, for miles. At twelve o'clock, we halted for refreshments and rest, within two miles of our destination. Here the roll was called, and the officers were ordered to see that none fell out; and when we arrived at our destination, the roll was called again. This was what we called a forced march. One member of Company E (although I am sorry to say it) was in the habit of falling out to keep out of battles, and on this march he tried his luck, but was picked up by the cavalry provost-guard which followed in the rear. They marched him to the front, where he was compelled to fight, while we rested for a day. We then advanced, and passing the outer works of Petersburg, beheld scenes too horrible for description. The ground was thickly strewn with the dead and dying, showing what havoc had been made in their lines. Driven from their works, they rallied and tried to retake them, which they could not do. Their loss must have been more than ours at this place of action. We marched on for a short distance, then forming our lines, awaited orders. In about an hour, they came; and we moved into a wheat-field and charged the enemy's lines, driving in their pickets, and capturing the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroads.

TWO KINDS OF OFFICERS.

Here we lost our colonel, an officer we all loved for his bravery and for his kindness to his men. We thought more of him than of all the rest of the officers in the regiment. He was a man beloved by all at home, and was willing to fare as his men did. There was a great difference between Colonel Prescott (for that was his name) and another Federal officer who would ride his horse over the men, when they got tired and exhausted on the march, even if they had a pass to march in the rear. And then, look at a certain captain who left us at Spottsylvania under the pretence of being sick; but the sound of the battle is what made him sick; for he was a coward, in my opinion. He never returned to the regiment again. The next we heard of him, he was boarding in Washington, and then in New York State, in good health.

Company E was commanded by the orderly sergeant the most of the time. Occasionally, there would be a lieutenant detailed to take command, but would soon be relieved by wounds. The company as well as the whole regiment suffered great loss after taking the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad. We were relieved and arranged for another charge; this time, to take a ravine running lengthwise of our lines, that the enemy had possession of. We formed on the railroad behind its high banks, cutting steps so that we could climb up; and then the order was given to forward. "Forward! forward!" rang through the lines, and with deafening veils we went on. The ravine was cleared, and we had possession of it. But our day's work was not yet done, for we immediately formed for another charge; this time with fixed bayonets and for their main works. When all was in readiness, the orders again rang through the lines, and we were in motion. On, on, we went, their shot making sad havock in our lines; but still we kept on, until the Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry, dismounted, broke, and fell in our rear for us to protect them. What a shame it was, for, in a few moments more, the works would have been ours. The enemy had commenced to retreat, and were drawing away their artillery, when they noticed the break in our lines. But we rallied, and held our lines until late in the night; when we were relieved, and moved off to the left, and stopped to rest. Fatigue, hardships, and sickness had worn me down, but I would not ask to go to the hospital, for I would rather be with the company as long as possible. I think this was the eighteenth of June, 1864. We did not move out of range of the enemy's fire; and there was a good many wounded without being able to do anything to prevent the fire. I was hit four times during the day with spent-balls. This was the twentieth or the twenty-first of June, 1864.