At length, nearly an hour past midnight, the column reached the head of the ravine, and the hungry and thoroughly exhausted men threw themselves on the ground, to gain, if possible an hour's rest. They had enjoyed no rest for more than forty-eight hours, and realized full well the terrible business the returning light would bring. Many in the brief half of that summer night closed their eyes in what proved to be their last earthly sleep. Many, doubtless, saw in dreams for the last time the faces of the dear ones at home. But all did not sleep. These thought of the past, of their childhood and homes, of the day whose dawn they were awaiting,—a day to receive its second baptism of patriot's blood! And who shall say that these true souls were not filled with the same exalted devotion to Freedom and Country which animated the heroes of Bunker Hill as they toiled on that memorable night of June, 1775?
But to sleeping and waking, the night waned apace. The moon which had been shining brightly now cast long shadows, and darkness settled in the ravines. The rebel pickets in our front grew drowsy, and through weariness ceased their firing. No sounds were heard save the distant rumble of wagons and artillery, the trickling of the brook in the ravine, and the subdued breathing of the worn and weary men. The mists from the stream ascended cold and gray, completely obscuring the troops. The favorable moment had arrived. Now if the lines could be formed in the ravine success seemed certain. This, however, was most delicate business. The enemy's pickets were on the hillside only forty feet distant, while above, upon the crest of the ravine, seventy-five feet beyond, stood the intrenchments filled with men. The least noise or indiscretion would betray our presence, and draw a murderous fire from the works above. Success depended on secrecy. Profound silence was enjoined. The tin dippers and canteens were placed in the haversacks, to prevent the telltale jingle. Muskets were loaded, but not capped, bayonets fixed, and orders given that not a shot must be fired until the works were reached.
The men were now thoroughly aroused, and all signs of weariness disappeared. The regiments were one by one moved down the brookside into the dark ravine, and soon the lines were formed. Griffin's brigade was on the right, with the Seventeenth Vermont, Eleventh New Hampshire, and Thirty-second Maine, in the front line; the remainder supporting; Curtin's brigade on the left, with the Second New York Rifles, Thirty-sixth Massachusetts, and Forty-eighth Pennsylvania, in the front line. The Second New York Rifles had the right, the Thirty-sixth the centre, and the Forty-eighth the left. The remainder of the brigade were to support the front line. Griffin was to charge toward the house bearing to the right; Curtin to bear to the left, toward the redoubt.
The hour fixed for the assault—three o'clock—drew on. The word "Forward!" was whispered, and with cat-like steps the men advanced. A fence obstructed the advance of our brigade, and in attempting to remove it a rail was accidentally dropped, and instantly a half-dozen shots from the works above revealed the fact that the enemy was on the alert. For a moment the plan seemed frustrated; but a death-like quiet reigned in our line, and soon the enemy became reassured.
Again, cautiously and quietly, the men crept forward. At the given signal they rose erect, rushed for the picket line, and carried it in an instant. Then, with one loud, ringing cheer, like a billow of the ocean, irresistible and deadly, they dashed on up the hill. On they went, right into the hot flash of musketry and smoke of cannon, regardless of the wounded and the dead, regardless of the fire, without a shrub to shield them from the withering blast.[17]
[17] In "The Virginia Campaign of '64 and '65," page 217, note, General Humphreys, describing this action, quotes as follows, from a paper contributed to the Massachusetts Military Historical Society, by General S. G. Griffin, commanding Second Brigade:—
"One gunner saw us approaching and fired his piece. That was all we heard from them, and almost the only shot fired on either side. The rebels were asleep with their arms in their hands, and many of them sprang up and ran away as we came over; others surrendered without resistance."
While this statement is doubtless correct with reference to that portion of the line attacked by General Griffin's brigade, it does not convey a true idea of the stubborn, though short, resistance encountered by Curtin's brigade. The fire at this point was very severe. The Second New York Rifles broke under it, leaving only the Thirty-sixth Massachusetts and Forty-eighth Pennsylvania in the front line. Between the brow of the hill and the enemy's line the Thirty-sixth lost nineteen out of less than ninety men engaged, and the loss reported by the Forty-eighth Pennsylvania was seventy-five killed and wounded.
A fierce, though brief, struggle ensued at the works. As the rebel commander was pulled over the breastworks as a prisoner he shouted to his men, "Stand firm! Their right is all gone!" The Second New York had broken in the first fire, and left our right badly exposed. The Forty-fifth was sent forward to protect the right, and the Fifty-eighth Massachusetts extended the line to the left. The enemy discovered the break in our line, and commenced a sharp cross-fire upon the regiment. At this critical moment, Captain Smith, commanding the regiment, with wonderful presence of mind, turned toward the left, and shouted, at the top of his voice, "Fairbank! bring up your brigade!" at the same moment yelling "Charge!" The ruse had its desired effect, and before Lieutenant Fairbank could hurry his brigade of eight men, of Company K, from the left the enemy wavered, our men leaped the works at a bound, and captured all the defenders who did not take to their heels.