Chapter XV.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
On the morning of March 25th, I know not why, our camp was astir earlier than usual. Heavy cannonading could be heard toward the right, but this was nothing uncommon. As time passed on, the noise of strife continued, and seemed to extend farther toward the left. Eating a hasty breakfast, I started toward the scene of action, determined to ascertain the cause of the unusual uproar. When starting from camp, I did not suppose it was any thing more serious than an artillery fight of more than ordinary interest. As I went on the sound swelled to a steady roar, which showed that a determined battle was in progress. Drawing nearer, I saw the troops in line of battle, the shells bursting, and cannon flaming as far as the eye could reach.
I was informed that Fort Steadman had been taken, and a part of our works captured by the enemy. Supposing that we would be ordered to the right to retrieve the disaster, I started to return to camp. I had not proceeded far when I saw the head of the column approaching. I hurried back to camp and procured my gun and accouterments and started to overtake the troops. I was joined by Lewis, who had also been absent. Only the pickets and ordinary camp guard remained. As we passed along we met President Lincoln, General Meade, and staff, coming toward the left. We concluded to greet them with due ceremony. As we met them we halted on the bank by the road and presented arms. The President raised his hat, and turned to General Meade with some humorous remark as they rode on. It seemed a reversal of things for the head of the nation to pass in review before a couple of stragglers.
We found the Second and Third Divisions drawn up in the rear of the works as support, awaiting events. A large number of prisoners passed to the rear while we waited here. Farther to the left, the First Division advanced on the enemy's works, and was repulsed with considerable loss, but succeeded in establishing our lines nearer to those of the enemy. We were not engaged, and returned to our quarters in the evening.
The next morning I started early to visit an acquaintance belonging to the One Hundred and Fifty-fifth Pennsylvania, First Division. It was not yet sunrise when I reached their camp. The acquaintance whom I had come to visit was on picket, and I went out along the line to find him. The pickets were stationed in woods, and the men were engaged in building or strengthening their intrenchments. Passing along the line, I noticed that the men kept close to the pits. I inquired if things were woolly out there, and was informed that the latitude was decidedly unhealthy.
I now noticed a Yankee vidette about twenty-five yards in front, rifle in hand, sticking close to a tree, and scarcely fifty yards farther on, a rebel vidette peered cautiously past another tree. The vigilance with which they watched each other revealed both the danger and security of the situation. If all were watching each other as jealously as these, I could continue my observations with comparative safety. A little farther toward the left I reached open ground. Arrangements had been made, under flag of truce, for burying our dead who had fallen in the battle of the previous day. Quite a number of dead lay scattered over the field, some of them close up to the rebel works. They were carried back within our own lines and buried there. They were carried on blankets, one man taking hold of each corner, and thus bearing them along.
Four men thus engaged, halted with their burden to rest as they were passing near me. In the blanket lay a boy, certainly not more than eighteen or nineteen years old. At first glance you could scarcely believe that he was dead. Surely the grim King could not stamp upon dying clay a smile so pleasant, a laugh so winning, as shone out from those parted lips and half-closed eyes! But just over his heart, half-concealed by his arm, that bloody rent in his blouse showed how he died.
"Somebody's darling is cold and dead."