Our skirmish line was ordered to charge all along our lines at five o’clock. We had to go two hundred fifty yards, through three picket fences and over hundreds of torpedoes, to gain their main forts. I was on the skirmish line, and looking back, I saw our entire force coming, everyone trying to get across that field of death and destruction.
At first many brave comrades planted their colors on the rebel fortifications, to pitch over into the rifle pits, with a bullet crashing through their heads. Scores were blown out of existence by torpedoes. The air was full of cannister and minnie balls, but the work was short and decisive. As soon as the rebels found out that nothing would stop our determined assault they hoisted up white flags all along the line. But it was not before they were covered with the blood of brave boys who were shot and had fallen over into the pits on them.
This charge had lasted about fifty minutes. The rebel troops in front of the colored troops surrendered to our division, for they knew that the negroes would not show them any quarters, as they came up with the shout of “Fort Pillow,” and they continued to shoot at the rebels even after they raised the white flags.
The loss in our division was four hundred killed and wounded. The loss in our regiment was fifteen. Captain Merchant of Company G fell dead on the field. Colonel Spicely’s horse was blown up by a torpedo.
We captured four thousand prisoners and one hundred heavy Brooks’ cannon. Three thousand of the rebel troops had made their escape on trees felled across the swamp to the Sand Battery. It was about sunset when we got into the fort.
Three rebel ironclads were lying out in the bay, awaiting a barge load of marines who had been in the rifle pits. George Williamson, of our company, wheeled a little brass gun into position and fired a shell over the marines. It bursted forty feet too high, but it had the effect all the same. They came back to shore faster than they had gone out, with white flags fluttering in the air. The gunboats moved on down the bay towards the sand batteries.
Our regiment moved down and took charge of the commissaries, which were well supplied. Two old messmates, Clark and Tolliver and I saw the upper room lighted up. We went upstairs, and it proved to be the officers’ dining room. A colonel, for supper.
The table was the best supplied one that we had seen for months. There was chicken and other good things too numerous to mention.
Clark called out, “Hello, rebs! Thanks for your good supper. We are in need of something of that sort after a hard day’s work. Get out of here!”
They pleaded for more time but had to be contented to go with a piece in hand. Two of our soldiers came in and wanted the honor of capturing some officers. We turned the officers over to them and took our places at the table. We enjoyed as good a meal as we had eaten for months.