The brigade was now hurried to the rear, the direction of the march being toward the right of our line, and in another hour the corps was massed in a large open field near the Harris house. Here we remained more than an hour, exposed to the full fury of the drenching rain, which caused the men to shiver with cold. It was the first rain that had fallen during the campaign, and, however welcome it might have been in allaying the stifling dust and cooling the heated air, it was decidedly unpleasant to be obliged to encounter its full force in the open field, without shelter of any kind. Here the wearied men partook of the first nourishment during the day. At dusk the corps was again ordered forward to a new position in the advanced line, more to the right of that occupied during the day. We crossed the broad meadows bordering the Ny river, and as we moved forward an aid reported to Captain Barker that, Colonel Bliss having been injured, he had been directed to notify the senior officer to take command of the brigade, and that Lieutenant-Colonel Pleasants, of the Forty-eighth Pennsylvania, was in command. He was soon succeeded, however, by Colonel Curtin, who had been temporarily absent.
The shower settled into a steady rain, and the night was cold and cheerless. The advance was continued in the darkness until we reached a line of breastworks around a deserted farm-house. Here we remained during the night. The head-quarters of the regiment were in a dilapidated barn, and nearly all the officers lay down upon the wet ground, which constituted the floor. The place was filthy and disagreeable; but any shelter was welcome on such a night. The hours dragged drearily. The men were under arms, and the pickets, though almost exhausted, were alert and vigilant. We were ignorant of the enemy's position, yet conscious that the morning light would reveal it, and be the signal for a determined assault.
The morning of Thursday (the 12th) dawned cold and dismal. A curtain of gray mist enshrouded the earth as with a pall. The men shivered as they awoke from unrefreshing sleep, and the order to advance was promptly responded to. Without food we moved forward, continuing the line of advance of the previous evening, and, after a short march, reached a large opening in the forest, where a portion of the corps was being massed in column by brigades in line of battle. During the night the Second Corps had been massed on our right, and were ordered to assault at daylight, with a portion of our corps to support the left. We were to advance by brigade front, formed en echelon. The Second Brigade was in front, the First Brigade had the second line, with the Thirty-sixth again on the extreme left. The Second Brigade was ordered to advance to the right, to uncover the front of our brigade, when we were to advance rapidly to the front, connect our right with the left of the Second Brigade, and push forward. While forming for the attack we heard the loud cheers of the troops on our right, who were charging the enemy, followed by the thunder of artillery. This was the signal for our attack, and the division advanced rapidly toward the woods, the brigades deployed to the right and left, and a heavy skirmish line was thrown out. We drew the first fire from the rebel skirmishers at half-past four o'clock.
The line of our advance to the woods lay over a steep knoll, which descended into a swampy thicket just in front of the woods, and while crossing this exposed ground the regiment encountered a very severe fire of musketry at short range from the enemy posted in the edge of the woods; but he retired rapidly before our advance, and, as we entered the woods, attempted to swing around our left, with the evident intention of outflanking us. To prevent this movement Companies C, B, and K were deployed to the left of the line of battle, to cover the flank and protect the rear. The division which had been expected to prolong the line of battle on the left had not come into position, and it seemed to us that the dire experience of the Wilderness was now to be repeated. But the enemy suddenly fell back, and appeared to abandon the attempt to double our left flank. By five o'clock the engagement had become very hot, and as the division advanced the cheering on the right was renewed, and the firing became terrific. The lurid flash of musketry lighted up the dim woods, and the din of battle resounded on every side.
Connection was established with Griffin's brigade, which joined the left of the Second Corps near their point of attack at the famous "death angle," thereby securing our right; but the left was badly exposed, and the advance of the promised support in that direction was anxiously awaited. We were in a dense forest, and it was impossible to distinguish the position of the enemy or his approach, should he attack, until the skirmishers should come in contact. The firing in our immediate front was very sharp and close, indicating the presence of a large force, and our skirmish line was reinforced preparatory to a charge which we had been ordered to make, and also to resist any attack of the enemy.
In a few minutes intelligence was passed along the line that Hancock had just finished a successful charge on the right, carrying the enemy's line, near the McCool House, capturing four thousand prisoners and twenty cannon. Soon after, a large force of the enemy was discovered moving from the right toward the left, in column, across our front. The skirmishers opened a sharp fire, which was not returned, but instead we heard the cry, "For God's sake, don't fire!" At the same time word came from the right of our division, "Cease firing! Hancock's prisoners are passing along your front." The firing ceased, when in a few minutes a horrible cry came from the left of the Thirty-sixth,—"The rebels are on our flank!" The fatal impression seemed to prevail that this body of the enemy was the division just captured by General Hancock. A sergeant came in from the skirmish line and reported that a Union officer had ordered the line to cease firing, and that the rebels carried a white flag; and the impression was general that these were rebel prisoners moving toward the rear. They were formed squarely across our flank, and Captain Buffum, Acting Major, who had command of the left wing, walked out on the narrow wagon-track which diagonally crossed our left, across which these rebels had formed, and waving his sword toward them, cried out, "Come in, Johnnies! We won't hurt you. Come in!" We could look into their very faces. We could almost see the whites of their eyes. They were the veterans of A. P. Hill, Lane's brigade,[13] of Heth's division. As far as we could distinguish weapons they were standing at ordered arms. Captain Buffum was but ten yards from them, and going toward their line, when he was answered by a murderous volley, which will never be forgotten by any who survived it. And never shall we forget the splendid coolness and courage of Captain Buffum as he came back to the line, and amid the confusion which followed this terrible attack, calmly faced two or three companies to the left, and gave the order,—"Let them have it!" Though suffering fearfully the regiment behaved nobly. The attack was terrific. It was the most awful moment of our history. Yet the regiment was equal to the emergency, and its stand, it is believed, saved the division from panic or capture. The left was gradually drawn back from the colors, and soon the entire left wing presented a front to the enemy. Lying upon the ground, loading and firing rapidly, pouring upon the enemy a low fire which was most effective and deadly, they maintained the unequal contest until an order came down from the right for the whole line to charge. Then, rising to their feet in the midst of the awful fire, with an alacrity and courage beyond this feeble praise, the regiment was rushing toward the enemy, when loud cheers were heard upon our left, and in another moment we were joined by the gallant Twenty-first Massachusetts,—the right regiment of the First Division line,—which came up on the double quick to prolong the line of battle. Cheer answered cheer, and both regiments charged the enemy, who was driven back to his intrenchments with great loss, leaving his killed and wounded in our possession. Two lines of detached rifle-pits were taken, with some prisoners, and the right brigade carried a portion of the enemy's main line and captured two pieces of artillery; but in a little while the enemy made a most furious attack, and the connection with the Second Corps on the right was broken; the right was turned and forced out of the works.
[13] Lane's brigade was composed of the Seventh, Eighteenth, Twenty-eighth, Thirty-third, and Thirty-seventh regiments of North Carolina troops. The operations of the brigade on the morning of the 12th are detailed in the "History of Lane's North Carolina Brigade," Southern Historical Society Papers, Vol. IX., No. 4, pp. 146, et seq.
Soon after, a general attack along the whole line was ordered, and the regiment advanced; but the enemy's works at this point were too strong to be carried. The rebels made several attempts to regain the ground we had occupied, but were driven back each time with severe loss. Several times orders were given from the right or left to attack, but the assaults were successful only at isolated points. Along the Third Division front the fighting was unusually desperate and bloody. Charges and counter-charges were made and repulsed. In the "death angle" on the right of our division the fighting was the most sanguinary of the war. The enemy made the most desperate attempts to recover the works, but every attack was repulsed with great slaughter. About noon we strengthened our skirmish line, which was very close to the enemy's position, and a temporary line of rifle-pits was thrown up, which afforded partial shelter. Slowly the terrible day of Spottsylvania dragged on. The mist of the morning was but the prelude to a heavy storm; at times the rain fell in torrents.
After the excitement of the attack had somewhat subsided a spirit of deep sadness pervaded the regiment. Comrades and friends had been stricken in death. Those dismal woods had been the scene of their last conflict; and many a companion of weary marches and lonely picket, many a tried and trusted comrade, was sleeping in death. Of the commissioned officers, Captain Bailey, the beloved commander of Co. G, had received a mortal wound. Corporal Hall, of his company, was one of the first to fall in our close conflict with the enemy, when we received the volley with which the battle for us opened, and some of his comrades carried him a few steps to the rear of our line of battle. Captain Bailey moved at once to the spot, and as he was bending over the dying corporal, a minie ball entered the captain's forehead, and he fell forward upon the corporal's body. Some of his men carried him to the field hospital; but nothing could be done for him. He breathed all day; but consciousness did not return, and at nightfall he died. And so we were called to part with a faithful officer and a noble-hearted companion. He had entered the service with a patriotic desire to serve his country; and his last words to those whom he loved, written after the battle of the Wilderness, showed that he had counted the cost, and was willing, if need be, to lay down his life in the endeavor to secure the great objects for which on our part the war was waged.
Captain Morse, of Company C, and Orderly Sergeant White, commanding Company I, had both been badly wounded, and taken to the rear. The loss of the regiment in its non-commissioned officers was especially severe. They were rising steadily from the ranks to fill the vacancies in the line to which their bravery and capacity entitled them. These men had conferred honor upon the regiment, and many of them had won the highest respect and affection of their commanding officers. Under any circumstances their loss to the regiment would have been deplorable; at such a time it seemed to us irreparable. The day had been to the regiment a literal baptism of fire and blood; but before its close we were destined to sustain another severe loss in the death of First Lieutenant Henry W. Daniels, commanding Company H. He had been in command of the skirmish line all day, and toward evening came in to report the condition of the line, get ammunition and receive instructions for the night. He said he had fired considerably during the day and had attracted the attention of the enemy. He left us with the repeated caution from Captain Barker not to expose himself unnecessarily. He had been at his post but a little while when Sergeant Woodward, who was standing in the main line, saw him fall, and cried out, "My God! the lieutenant is shot!" His head was pierced by a minie ball, and he who but a few moments before had left us in the full strength and courage of early manhood was brought back a corpse. Comrade Bartlett, who was on the skirmish line, thus relates the circumstances of his death: "I was on the line about two rods distant from him. He had just come out with ammunition for us. A rebel sharp-shooter in a tree on our right had troubled us exceedingly. Lieutenant Daniels took a musket to bring him down, as he could see by the smoke when he fired about where he was. After discharging the piece without effect, he had reloaded and raised it to his shoulder to fire the second time when he was shot by the sharp-shooter, and fell dead." This event was a sad ending of a terrible day, and cast a gloom upon all. We were pained at the recollection that the last days of his life were saddened by the death of his brother Myron in the Wilderness, only six days before, and our hearts went out in sympathy toward the kindred of all our slain in northern homes; and, as we thought of the many scenes of peril through which we must pass, and the certainty of death which awaited many, we cried, in the anguish and bitterness of heart, "How long, O Lord, how long?"