History of the Nineteenth Army Corps

by Richard B. Irwin

Happening to be at headquarters when the trouble was being talked about, he heard an officer suggest making use of the empty hogsheads at the sugar-house; how to get them to the trenches was the next question. This he promptly offered to solve if simply ordered to do it and left to himself. Cavalry had never been of any use in a siege, he said; it was time for a change. The order was instantly given. Prince swung himself into the saddle and rode away. Before daylight his men had carried through the woods and over the hills to the mouth of the sap, opposite the southern angle of the priest-cap, enough sugar hogsheads to make two tiers. The heads had been knocked in, a long pole thrust through each hogshead, and thus slung, it was easy for two mounted troopers to carry it between them. Quietly rolled into position by the working parties and rapidly filled with earth, a rude platform erected behind for the sharp-shooter to mount upon, with a few sand-bags thrown on top to protect his head,—this was the beginning of the great trench cavalier, whose frowning crest the astonished Confederates awoke the next morning to find towering high above their heads. Afterwards enlarged and strengthened, it finally dominated the whole line of defence not only in its immediate front, but for a long distance on either side.

Not less ingenious was the device almost instinctively resorted to by the artillerists for the safety of the gunners when, after the siege batteries opened, the Confederate sharp-shooters began picking off every head that came in sight. The first day saw a number of gunners stricken in the act of taking aim, an incident not conducive to deliberation or accuracy on the part of their successors at the guns. The next sunrise saw every exposed battery, from right to left, protected by a hinged shutter made of flat iron chiefly taken from the sugar troughs, covered with strips of rawhide from the commissary's, the space stuffed tight with loose cotton, and a hole made through all, big enough for the gunner's eye, but too small for the sharp-shooter's bullet. Such was substantially the plan simultaneously adopted at three or four different points and afterwards followed everywhere. The remedy was perfect.

On the 3d of July arrangements were made for the daily detail of a brigade commander to act as General of the Trenches during a tour of twenty-four hours, from noon to noon. His duties were to superintend the siege operations, to post the guards of the trenches, to repulse sorties, and to protect the works. The works to be constructed were indicated and laid out by the Chief Engineer, whose duties, after the 17th of June, when Major Houston fell seriously ill, were performed by Captain John C. Palfrey, aided and overlooked by General Andrews, the Chief of Staff. Daily, at nine o'clock in the morning, the General of the Trenches and the Chief Engineer made separate reports to headquarters of everything that had happened during the previous day. Each of these officers made five reports, yet of the ten but two are to be found printed among the Official Records. These are the engineer's reports of work done on the 5th and 6th of July. They contain almost the only details of the siege to be gathered from the record, notwithstanding the fact that every paper, however small, or irregular in size or form, or apparently unimportant in substance, that related in any way to the military operations of the Army of the Gulf was carefully preserved on the files of its Adjutant-General's office, where, for safety as well as convenience, documents of this character were kept separate from the ordinary files covering matters of routine and requiring to be handled every day or hour. The proof is strong that these important records were in due time delivered into the custody of the War Office, where, for a considerable period after the close of the war, little or no care seems to have been taken of the documents thus turned in by the several Corps and Departments, as these were discontinued; and although the care and management of the War Records division of the Adjutant-General's Office at Washington has, from its earliest organization, been such as to deserve the highest admiration, yet many of these papers are not to be found there. The probability is that they were either mislaid or else swept away and destroyed before this office was organized.

Palfrey's report for the 5th of July shows the left cavalier finished and occupied, and the right cavalier nearly finished, but constantly injured by a 24-pounder gun that had so far escaped destruction by the artillery of the besiegers. The sap in front of Bainbridge's battery, No. 8, was advanced about twenty yards during this day, and the parallel in front of the priest-cap extended to the left eleven yards; work was greatly retarded by a heavy rain in the night. The mine was so far advanced that a shaft was begun to run obliquely under the salient, this course being chosen instead of the usual plan of a vertical shaft with enveloping galleries, as shorter in time and distance, although more dangerous.

On the 6th the sap was pushed forward forty-two feet, and the parallel carried to the left sixty-nine feet. The mine shaft, begun the day before, was carried about twenty-seven feet underground, directly toward the salient. The cavaliers were finished.

During the 7th, although there is no report for that day, the shaft for the mine under the priest-cap was finished, the chamber itself excavated and charged with about twelve hundred pounds of powder, and the mine tamped with sand-bags. The mine on the left had been ready for some days; it was now charged with fifteen hundred pounds of powder and tamped.

Heavy thunder-storms, accompanied by warm rain, had been frequent of late, and the night dews had been at times heavy. Accordingly it was thought best not to trust so delicate an operation as the explosion of the mines to the chance of a damp fuse. Daybreak on the 9th of July having been set as the hour for the simultaneous explosion of the mines, to be instantly followed by one last rush through the gaps, Captain Walker was sent on the evening of the 7th, to the Richmond to ask for dry fuses from the magazines of the Navy.

Meanwhile events were moving rapidly to an end. In the early morning of Tuesday, the 7th, the gunboat General Price came down the river bringing the great news that Vicksburg had surrendered to Grant on the 4th of July. Commodore Palmer, on board the Hartford, was the first to receive the news, but for some reason it happened that signal communication was obstructed or suspended between the Hartford and headquarters, so that it was not until a quarter before eleven that Colonel Kilby Smith, of Grant's staff, delivered to Banks the welcome message of which he was the bearer.

In less time than it takes to tell, an aide-de-camp was on his way to the General of the Trenches bearing the brief announcement, "Vicksburg surrendered on the 4th of July." This note, written upon the thin manifold paper of the field order-books, the General of the Trenches was directed to wrap securely around a clod of clay —the closest approach to a stone to be found in all the lowlands of Louisiana—and toss it over into the enemy's works. At the same time the good news was sped by wire and by staff officers to the commanders of divisions. At noon a national salute was to be fired and all the bands were to play the national airs; but the men could not wait for these slow formalities. No sooner was the first loud shout of rejoicing heard from the trenches, where for so many weary nights and days there had been little to rejoice at, than by a sort of instinct the men of both armies seem to have divined what had happened. From man to man, from company to company, from regiment to regiment, the word passed, and as it passed, once more the cheers of the soldiers of the Union rang out, and again the forest echoed with the strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" from the long-silent bands. Many a rough cheek, unused to tears, was wet that morning, and the sound of laughter was heard from many lips that had long been set in silence; but when the first thrill was spent, it gave way to a deep-drawn sigh of relief. The work was done; all the toil and suffering was over. Nor was this feeling restricted to the outside of the parapet; the defenders felt it even more strongly. At first they received the news with real or affected incredulity. An officer of an Arkansas regiment, to whom was first handed the little scrap of tissue paper on which the whole chapter of history was told in seven words, acknowledged the complement by calling back, "This is another damned Yankee lie!" Yet before many minutes were over the firing had died away, save here and there a scattering exception, although peremptory orders were even given to secure its renewal. In spite of everything the men began to mingle and to exchange story for story, gibe for gibe, coffee for corn-beer, and when night fell there can have been few men in either army but believed the fighting was over.

That evening Gardner summoned his commanders to meet him in council.
Among them all there was but one thought—the end had come.