The Battalion having acquired a reputation for bravery, and won the confidence of General Phelps, by its success on the Warwick Road, that officer was very naturally led into again selecting it for the same service; and in the course of a few weeks from that time, Captain Barnes received orders to go for wood. The five companies, with a large number of teams, marched up the river to the wood-pile which has just been mentioned, and loaded all the wagons without being molested by the enemy. When this was accomplished, the teams were headed toward camp, accompanied by a strong guard, the balance of the Battalion following slowly in the rear.
The train had gone but a short distance, when the advance guard reported that the enemy were visible in the woods in front, apparently in large numbers. The teams were at once stopped, and it was soon found that the report was correct, and that a considerable force of the enemy’s cavalry were evidently moving into position, for the purpose of intercepting our train. The situation of the Battalion was rather serious in its nature. It was readily seen by the officers that it would be a difficult undertaking to force a passage with the long line of wagons loaded with wood, with their mules and horses. Prompt action was required. A forest road was fortunately discovered that led toward the James River, and gradually towards camp; and this road was found to terminate near the river, at a stream which flowed into the James. From the other side of this stream, the road continued toward camp; but this rivulet, which was probably fordable at certain seasons of the year, was at this time impassable for teams. Our skirmishers were directed to occupy the attention of the enemy if necessary, while the head of the train was turned into the forest road, and a strong detail of men, under Captain Doten, made to throw a bridge across the stream. With great celerity, rails and logs were gathered, and a rude bridge constructed, over which our wagons all managed to cross with safety, and were no sooner on the other side than they struck the open lands on the banks of the James River, and moved rapidly toward camp.
The enemy, who were some distance away, and between whom and the main body of the Battalion there intervened a dense woods, were wholly ignorant of these movements, evidently supposing that the wagons could move to camp only on the main road, which they were guarding. They had not even deemed it necessary to attack our skirmishers, until they saw our wagons a long distance away, moving across the open country. They then, for the first time, realized that they had been outwitted, and immediately moved forward to attack the Battalion. The skirmishers fell back, and the Battalion formed in line of battle.
The whole situation had been changed. The wagons were now safe, and were on their way toward camp; and this having been happily accomplished, our men were unhampered, and in a condition to give the enemy a warm reception. This the Confederates seemed to realize fully, and after exchanging a few shots, withdrew, the Battalion marching leisurely to camp. At the “Brick House Picket,” they were met by General Phelps, who had been already informed of the affair by the officer in immediate charge of the train. When the General learned how the movement had been conducted, he was greatly pleased, and bestowed warm commendations upon the officers and men of the Battalion.
As, in the course of this narrative, we are soon to speak of a change in the command of the post, and hence to take leave of General Phelps, we feel that we cannot do so without giving a few more instances of his sparkling wit.
One day, a young artillery officer, fresh from civil life, was observed to have the wrists of his new white gauntlets covered with tables written with ink. He was asked by the General what these figures were, and why he had them written upon his gauntlets. The young officer explained that his memory of ranges and elevations was poor, and he had hit upon that plan of having them always before him. “Now, that is very ingenious,” said Phelps; “a West Point officer, I dare say, would never have thought of that.” “Yes,” said the officer, delighted by the General’s apparent approval of his plan, “I thought it was a most excellent idea.” “I see but one drawback to it,” said the General; “if you should happen to lose your gloves, you would have to let your sergeant command the battery.” Those gauntlets were never seen on drill afterwards.
An acting adjutant of one of the regiments at Newport News made, while on drill, several humiliating blunders. The General thought it an opportunity for a moral lecture to all the officers. “Adjutant,” said he, “if you spent more time over your books, and less time in drinking and carousing, you would appear far more creditably on drill.” “Excuse me, General, but I don’t drink,” replied the officer. “Well,” said Phelps, “I am very sorry for it. There’s no excuse whatever, then, for your blunders; ‘tis sheer stupidity.”
The General understood all the peculiarities of volunteer soldiers, and where they operated to the disadvantage of good discipline, he sought to correct them, not as would most officers, by punishment, but by some ingenious device, often mirth-provoking, but none the less salutary in its effects. One of these traits of the volunteers, the outgrowth of their free American life, and their habits of study and self-reliance, was a keen desire to know the object and reason of every order given them, and, if not told the object, to guess at it, and then execute the order with sole reference to its supposed intent. This propensity had annoyed General Phelps exceedingly. To effectually break up this habit, and to substitute for it the obedience of the regular, was his desire, and he watched for some good opportunity to teach the lesson to all his officers. The opportunity soon presented itself. A Confederate tug-boat, armed with a gun of long range, came down the James one day and commenced firing at the United States ship “Savannah.” The General ordered a gun to be fired at her with 14° of elevation. The officer in charge of our battery, who was a member of the Battalion, thought 16° would be better, and giving the gun that range, made a superb shot, sending a ball directly through the smoke-stack of the tug. “Now you have the range, Lieutenant, fire away,” was the General’s sole remark, as he turned and left the battery. The tug turned and steamed away up the river, and was soon out of range. The Lieutenant thought himself highly complimented by the General, exerted himself to the utmost to fire rapidly, and at mess that night related the incident to his brother officers with great gusto, not hesitating to assert that his knowledge of artillery practice was even superior to that of the commanding general. At midnight, General Phelps sent for Captain Barnes, commanding the Battalion. On his reporting, the General began afar off, “I was wakeful to-night, and thought you might be willing to relieve me of my uneasiness by giving me a little of your company,” and then he began talking in this wise. “The officers and men are all good, but they are volunteers; they are better than regulars in one respect,—they are zealous,—but they are very bad in another: they think of the object of an order, and execute it zealously in the direction of the object they imagine is intended. Now, there is Lieutenant —— of your command, a capital officer, very zealous and intelligent; he has a first-rate notion about artillery; he makes excellent shots. I told him to fire at the tug to-day, and to give the gun 14° elevation, but he gave it 16°, and made as good a long shot as I ever saw: he hit the boat; his zeal carried him away; he didn’t obey his orders; he thought I wanted him to hit the boat; I wanted, instead, to tole her down nearer, when I could have easily blown her out of the water. Your Lieutenant thus spoiled my whole plan. Now, go back to your quarters, call the Lieutenant up, and tell him this, that I have just told you; make him understand it. That is all the punishment I think he will need.”
Lieutenant —— was duly summoned, and received his reprimand. While he never again boasted of his skill as an artillerist, and was compelled to endure the jests of his brother officers, he nevertheless learned a lesson of implicit obedience to orders, that proved very valuable to him during the remainder of his honorable service in the army.