Yes, it must have been the men. A story in point, comes to my aid here. A handsome, well-dressed lady sweeps with a great air, past two street boys. They are much struck. “My eye, Jim, but ain’t that a stunning dress?” Says Jim, with a superior air, “Oh get out, Bill, the dress ain’t no great shakes; it’s the woman in it that makes it so ‘killing.’” That was the way with our Spottsylvania earthworks. The works “wa’n’t no great shakes.” It was the men in ’em, that made them so “killing.”
The men behind those works, such as they were, had perfect confidence in their own ability to hold them. And this happy combination of “faith” and “works” proved as strong against the world and the flesh, here, as it does against the devil. It was perfectly effectual! It withstood all assaults!
This day, May 10th, to whose dawn we have now come, broke dark, and lowering, very typical of the heavy cloud of war that was impending, and soon burst upon us, in a fierce tempest, that was going to thunder, and howl, and beat upon us, all day, and for days to come. This day was to be an eventful, and memorable day to us,—crowded full of incident.
Some time during the night, while we were working like beavers on “Fort Dodge,” infantry had come in, on the line. Soon as they got there they set in to do what we were doing, to raise, and thicken the line against the coming of day, and the equally certain coming of battle. When the day came they also, were ready.
Gregg’s Texans to the Front
We had been too busy to think about them, at the time, but when we had gotten done,—and had a little time to look about us, and day had broken, and the fighting time, as we knew, was drawing near,—we took an interest in that infantry. Artillerymen are always concerned in their “supports,” in a fight, and we wanted to know who these fellows were, on whom we had to depend, as battle comrades, in the approaching struggle. Our minds were quickly made perfectly easy on that score. We found we had alongside of us “Gregg’s” Texas Brigade,—the gallant, dashing, stubborn fellows who had, as they jocularly said, “put General Lee under arrest and sent him to the rear,” and then, had so brilliantly, and effectually, stopped Hancock’s assault on Hill’s right, at the Wilderness. Better fellows to have at your back, in a fight, couldn’t be found! We knew that part of the line was safe! We mingled together, and chatted, and got acquainted, and swapped yarns about our several adventures. We told them how particularly glad we were to have them there, and our personal relations soon grew as cordial as possible.
Our service together on this spot, and our esteem of one another’s conduct in battle, made the Texans and the “Howitzers” ardent mutual admirers, and fast friends, to the end. Never afterwards did we pass each other, during the campaign, without hearty cheers, each, for the other, and friendly greetings and complimentary references to the “Spottsylvania lines.” Gregg’s Texans! Noble fellows! Better soldiers never trod a battlefield. I saw them fight; I saw their mettle tried, as by fire. They live in my memory as “the bravest of the brave.” I hope Texas is growing more like them!
Breakfastless, But “Ready for Customers”
Having got our Fort in shape, and refreshed ourselves a little with a wash, at the stream back of us, and thinking how nice some breakfast would be, if we had it, (which we didn’t, not a crumb!) we got ready for the business of the day. We sloped the ground downward to the works, so that the guns would run easily; placed the gun, and saw that it could poke its muzzle well over the dirt, and look around comfortably in every direction; got some rails, and chocked her tight, so that she couldn’t run back. Then we got a lot of cartridges, and piled them down safely behind the works, and in front of the guns, so that we could do very rapid firing. Lieutenant Anderson called attention to the fact of these pine woods, in front, which came up to within two or three hundred yards, and that the enemy could get up very near us, under cover, before they started to charge, and we would have to put in our work while they were charging across the narrow open ground. “So,” he said, “Have plenty of ‘canister’ by your guns. Break loose some canisters from the powder, so you can double-shot; you’ll need it.” We cannoneers had already thought of this; the edge of that wood was in canister range, and we had put little else but this short range missile in our pile; only a few case-shots to make it lively for them in the woods before they came out, and to follow them into the woods, when they were broken, and keep them going. We were now all ready and waited for customers. They soon came!
It was still early in the morning, about five or six o’clock, and, as yet, all was quiet in our front; we hadn’t even seen a Federal soldier. Suddenly! out of the woods to our right, just about five hundred yards in front, appeared the heads of three heavy blue columns, about fifty yards apart, marching across the open field toward our left. Here was impudence! Infantry trying to cross our front! That’s the way it seemed to strike our fellows. I don’t know whether they knew our guns were there, but we took it for an insult, and it was with a great deal of personal feeling, we instantly jumped to our guns and loaded with case-shot. Lieutenant Anderson said, “Wait till they get half way across the field. You’ll have more chance at them before they can get back into those woods.” We waited, and soon they were stretched out to the middle of the field. It was a beautiful mark! Three, heavy well closed up columns, fifty yards apart, on ground gently sloped upward from us, lovely for ricochet shots,—with their flanks to us, and in easy range. Dan McCarthy went up to Ned Stine, our acting gunner, who was very deaf, and yelled in his ear, loud enough for the Federals to hear, “Ned, aim at the nearest column, the ricochet pieces of shell will strike the columns beyond.” “All right,” he bawled back, with his head on one side, “sighting” the gun. “I’ve got sight on that column, now. Ain’t it time to shoot?” This instant Anderson sung out, “Section commence firing! and get in as many shots as you can before they get away.” “Yes,” shouted Dan, “Fire!” “Eh?” said Ned, putting his hand up to his ear, “What did you say?” “I said Fire! you deaf old fool—Fire!” the last, in a tone calculated for a mile and a half. This fetched him. Ned threw up his hands (the gunner’s signal to fire) and we let drive. All Ned wanted was a start, he was only slow in hearing. He jumped in now, and we kept that gun blazing almost continuously. It was the first time Stine had acted gunner, and he did splendidly here, and until Dibbrell, our gunner, got back.