[CHAPTER III.]
THE CAMPAIGN OF 1865.
Never, since the first gun was fired at Sumter, had the prospects of the Union cause appeared to be so nearly approximating a triumphant result, as at the commencement of the year 1865. While the rebels were daily, and almost hourly, losing all hope and confidence of success, while, one after another, their avenues of supplies and munitions of war were being closed to them, while their men, losing all faith in the promises of their leaders, were deserting daily by hundreds, and while their legislative assemblies were becoming disorderly, and disorganized meetings where personal abuse and mutual recriminations had long since taken the place of orderly and proper debate,—even the most faint-hearted of those who had the interests of the nation at heart, had begun to take courage, and to see the dawn of a brighter day at length approaching. Sherman had made his triumphant "march to the sea;" Fort Fisher had been captured and the Cape Fear River, one of the principal blockade running ports, had thus been effectually closed; Charleston was soon to fall and Sumter once more bore the old flag aloft.
The rebel press, though arrogant and blatant to the last, in its gross perversion of facts and its earnest endeavors to convert any disaster to the Union arms, however trifling, into a great Confederate victory, gave evident tokens, of a conviction, gradually growing in force and spreading far and wide through the South, that the frustration of their schemes was at hand, that secession was a failure and its days numbered. The Richmond Whig, Petersburg Express, and various other papers, tools of the rebel government, in a series of articles, plausibly and cleverly written and well calculated to deceive the unlettered masses of the South, claimed for the South a better condition, than they had known since the commencement of the war. Their army was reported by them to be well fed, clothed and sheltered, the spirits and courage of the men to be excellent and a certain and sure triumph of the Confederate cause, was prophecied as about to be the result of the commencement of hostilities, in which Lee would take the initiative in the spring.
On our side of the lines in front of Petersburg, however, a contrary impression prevailed, and as the winter wore away, even the most despondent began to cheer up as the hollowness of the Confederacy became apparent, the most obtuse could see that the beginning of the end was approaching, and all were looking forward to a speedy crushing out and final extinction of the last spark of rebellion.
Throughout the whole of the long dreary winter, night after night, shivering and half famished, miserably clothed, worse fed, and wretchedly armed, the rebel pickets had deserted their posts and came into our lines, all telling the same tale of suffering, deprivation and disaffection. Sometimes singly, sometimes in squads of three or four, or even greater numbers, they preferred running their chances of being shot, by our men or their own, to lingering on, suffering from cold and hunger, with an equal chance of being eventually either shot or hung. The Army of the Potomac, on the other hand, which had been comfortably hutted and furnished with the best of food and clothing, through the winter, had received a large accession to its numbers, both in recruits and also in convalescents from the different hospitals; our leisure hours had been passed in resting from the severe campaign of the preceding year, with drilling enough to give us exercise, keep us in health, and to render us more efficient as soldiers. The numerous desertions from the rebels and the many successive Union victories had instilled confidence in the minds of our men, just in proportion as it had dispirited and demoralized the rebels, all felt sure of victory, and that the end was at hand.
The commencement of the year found the 37th in winter quarters on the Baxter road, just in front of their old battle field of the 17th of June, and in rear of Fort Morton. Considerable addition had been made to our numbers during the winter; a large majority had had an opportunity of visiting their homes and friends; our casualties had been few and the health and spirits of the entire regiment were excellent. With increasing satisfaction, as each day's mail brought tidings of further Union successes, we watched the net closing tighter and closer around rebeldom and began to look forward toward the prospect of a speedy return to our homes.
As the severer rigors of winter passed off, and the mild, warm days of an early spring began to awaken the vegetable world from its long sleep, the enemy, who had for some months, been remarkably quiet and civil, commenced annoying us by assailing us with mortar and Parrott shells whenever we attempted to indulge in a brigade drill or dress parade. These exhibitions of animosity, however, beyond driving a few timid natures to the doubtful security of pine trees and stumps, soon ceased to create much excitement and served mainly as an excellent preparation to accustom the ears of our new recruits to the sound of these missiles. Nobody ever got hurt by them, and nobody cared much for them. In the month of March we were visited by several severe tornadoes which threw down a number of the trees, among which our camp was built, and, on one occasion, killed one man, Corporal Kenneday of company F.
And so the time wore on, till at length an order came "one fine day" for all Sutlers to go to the base at City Point, for officers and men to turn in all their superfluous winter clothing, and for all arms and ammunition to be thoroughly inspected. The Army of the Potomac was stripping for the fight. Again a few days and rumors, undefined and indistinct at first, but gaining plausibility as time passed on, began to circulate through our camps that "Sheridan had come." And sure enough, one fine summer-like spring morning, three or four wild, rough-looking individuals mounted on lean, but tough wiry animals, rode into our camp, clothed in Confederate uniform, and on being seized and questioned, declared themselves, not without a certain pride in so doing, to be "scouts in the service of General Sheridan." In confirmation, they pointed to a long line of dust, in rear of our camp, where, with the aid of our field glasses, we could dimly discern a large column of cavalry filing slowly along towards the left, in full view of the enemy and within range of his guns, proudly, defiantly, as if the mere fact of their being Sheridan's men, were a safeguard in itself.
This looked like business, and we prepared ourselves accordingly, remaining for the next three weeks in a continued state of excitement and expectation. On one occasion we thought the fun had commenced, a succession of loud cheers, or rather yells, accompanied by rapid and continued firing from the picket line on our left, leading us to suppose that Gen. Lee had opened the ball by taking the initiative himself, and was about to try the strength of our position. We were quickly under arms, and drawn up in line of battle, in the rear of Fort Morton, ready to move, wherever fate and the commanding general might choose to send us. Having waited there for an hour or two, and the disturbance, which turned out to be nothing more than a mere picket emeute, having gradually quieted down, we were permitted to return in peace to our camp.