Hancock's attack had been very successful. He had driven the enemy fully a mile and a half back on the trains, artillery, and head-quarters of the Confederate Army, which were in imminent danger of capture; but in the rapid advance his line of battle had become so broken in the dense forest as to require readjustment before he could press forward and secure the prize almost within his grasp. While this was being done the enemy was reinforced by Longstreet's troops, who had been pushed forward rapidly to the threatened point. When, therefore, Hancock's line advanced to resume the attack he was confronted by a superior force, and was not only unable to make any impression on the enemy, but was in turn pressed back over all the ground he had gained, and was himself now in need of assistance.
The story of the Battle of the Wilderness is one of the most intensely interesting of the war; but it will be referred to in this record only to describe intelligibly the action taken by the regiment in its relation to the engagement as a whole. We received the orders to retire about ten o'clock in the forenoon, and moved by the left flank through the dense forest and underbrush, which were almost impenetrable, through swamps deep with water, back to the clearing, to the assigned position, which was in rear of a gap said to exist between the left of the Fifth Corps and the right of the Second. Our position was about a mile and a half in front of the Old Wilderness Tavern, facing nearly south, and not far from the Plank Road which runs south-east from Germanna Ford. Our division was ordered to advance and fill the gap, and to attack the enemy as soon as found. Each regiment was to skirmish along its own front. On our right was Wadsworth's division of the Fifth Corps, and it was expected we would connect our left with Barlow's division of the Second Corps. With a detail from each regiment, Captain McKibben, of General Potter's staff, rode into the woods to establish a skirmish line. He had not proceeded far when he was fired upon by the enemy, and his horse was killed.
It being evident that the enemy was in strong force along our immediate front a general advance was ordered. The regiments were ordered to advance as rapidly as possible, keeping close connection on the right and left, and to attack without delay. The Fifty-first New York was formed on our left; the Forty-fifth Pennsylvania joined our right; beyond this we could not see the brigade line and knew nothing of its formation. A strong skirmish line was sent out from our front, under Captain Bailey, of Company G, and when all was in readiness the line of battle pushed forward into the dense forest. The heat was intense; the men were almost exhausted from their long march of the previous day, were famished and weary; but the thought of the burden of battle borne thus far by our brave comrades caused them to march with steady tread as they moved onward toward the foe. In a few moments the line received a tremendous volley, and the advance was checked for an instant, but only long enough for us to ascertain the exact position of the enemy and strengthen the skirmish line. This being done, Captain Bailey advanced very rapidly, driving the enemy's skirmishers through a swampy ravine into his entrenchments. The line of battle halted and closed up, while the Thirty-sixth and Forty-fifth made nearly a half wheel to the right, in order that our line might conform more nearly to the line of the enemy, which, as far as we could determine, crossed our line of battle diagonally.
During all this time the fire from the rebel line was very sharp and close, but the casualties were few. The left flank was found to be very much exposed, and the Fifty-first New York was drawn back to cover the flank and rear, leaving the Thirty-sixth on the extreme left of the division line of battle.
In front of our line, across the swampy ravine, on the crest of a wooded slope, were the breastworks of the enemy, made of felled trees and brush and the bodies of their dead. Behind these rude intrenchments stood Anderson's brigade, Field's division (Hood's old division) of Longstreet's veteran corps. It was composed of troops from South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Texas. Surely they were no mean foe. At Antietam Bridge, on the Heights of Fredericksburg, at Campbell's Station, and in the defences of Knoxville, the Ninth Corps had engaged with them in deadly conflict, and knew full well the devotion of these men to their cause, and the desperate valor with which they would defend their works. Once more these old antagonists stood face to face, about to renew the fearful struggle of other days on bloody fields. The foeman was worthy of our steel. The order, "Forward, double quick!" was shouted, and with loud and ringing cheers our lines advanced. The enemy poured in terrific volleys; their bullets whistled around us and thinned our ranks; but the advance was not checked. The left of our regiment first struck the rebel line, and received the severest fire, but pressed on through it, and the Thirty-sixth and Forty-fifth broke the line, went over the breastworks with a rush, and drove out the enemy in our front. The attack had been most determined and successful, and the regiment had complete possession of the rebel works in its front. Thus far all had gone well. The Fifty-first New York, however, had broken in the attack and failed to carry the line with which it was confronted, and, in a brief time, though to us it seemed an age, the enemy rallied, moved upon our left flank, swept round toward our rear, and we were subjected to a fearful fire of musketry at short range. Having no supports, and being outflanked and overpowered on the left, that portion of the line was unable to hold the position, and began to retire in some confusion. The position was too valuable to abandon without a desperate struggle, and Major Draper leaped upon the log breastworks in the centre, and endeavored by words and motions to turn back the left wing, in order to present a front to the enemy attacking on that flank. Captain Barker, in command of the left wing, vainly endeavored to persuade a regiment of the Third Division sent forward to support the attack, to swing to the left and attack the enemy. In the most critical moment of the fight, while gallantly rallying the line, Major Draper was shot through the shoulder and carried senseless from the field.[12] The regiment was loth to give up the great advantage it had gained, and the fighting was hand to hand,—terrible and bloody. The men fought gallantly; but the force upon our left was too strong, and our line was compelled to retire. Falling back slowly, with their faces toward the enemy, the regiment preserved a good line, returning the enemy's fire, and retired but a short distance. Sergeant Henry Todd, who bore the State color, although wounded in the arm, refused to the last to fall back, and received a bullet in the head, which laid him low in death. The flag was seized from his dying grasp by Corporal Michael Long, of Company A, who himself was wounded a moment later, and before it reached the ground was seized by Sergeant Gilbert Rawson, who bore it through the battle, and the subsequent campaign.
[12] Sergeant Kimball, of Company F, saved Major Draper's life during the battle. One of the enemy, a soldier of the South Carolina Rifles, was lying behind a log, and had deliberate aim on Major Draper, who was standing exposed to his fire, and was in the act of firing when Sergeant Kimball struck up the musket with his own, and the ball passed through the Major's hat. Soon after this Major Draper received a wound from a rebel sharp-shooter.
In the midst of this terrific fight Colonel Curtin, of the Forty-fifth Pennsylvania, assumed command of the brigade. Hartranft, with his brigade of the Third Division, came up at the same moment, when the whole line advanced in the face of a furious fire; and although the enemy was severely handled, and his line forced at several points, yet the opposition was so determined as to prevent complete success. Through all these trying scenes the regiment behaved with great gallantry, and held its position to the last moment. The brigade now retired a short distance, re-formed, and corrected the line. Here Lieutenant Marshall, of Company A, was badly wounded and carried to the rear. During this temporary lull, amid the cries of the wounded, and the burning undergrowth that added horror to the scene, our comrades of the Forty-fifth struck up the chorus: "We'll rally round the flag, boys, rally once again." The Thirty-sixth took up the strain, and made those smoking woods ring with the chorus and cheers of the undaunted men.
During the afternoon new dispositions were made for a third attack. As our ammunition was exhausted we were relieved in the front line by the Third Division, and closely supported its attack, which was made with great vigor soon after five o'clock. The charge was gallant and determined, and they who heard that terrific musketry will never forget it. The enemy's skirmish line was driven in, and their main line of battle, which had come out of the works, was broken and forced back. A portion of the line on the left was again carried, but it could not be held. The enemy's fire was of the heaviest; but the main line held the ground up to the teeth of the enemy until dusk, when our division took position to the right of the Third Division in the front line, within close musket range of the enemy. A strong skirmish line was deployed, and the regiment intrenched.
While these changes of position were being made it became necessary to leave many of our wounded between the opposing lines, and volunteers were called for to go out under the enemy's fire, and bring in such as could be removed. Several gallant men of the Thirty-sixth offered to perform this perilous service. While thus employed, Corporal George E. Nourse, of Company I, was struck by the fatal bullet of a sharp-shooter, and was himself borne away upon the stretcher with which he had assisted to carry others to the rear. He was buried near the spot where he fell, and sleeps, like many of his comrades, in that far-off grave in the lonely Wilderness, or in the National Cemetery at Fredericksburg, where so many of our comrades buried on the Wilderness battle-ground have since been laid to rest.