Near Jackson, Miss., July 11th, 1863.
On the 6th of July,
at about 3 o'clock p. m., we fell into line and started for the Big Black
River, distant about two miles. The Rebels had shown themselves in considerable
force on the opposite bank, and had engaged our skirmishers from rifle pits,
which were dug close to the river bank, and were concealed by a thick growth of
small cane, killing and wounding several of our men. Their force was unknown to
us, the river fifteen to twenty feet deep, the banks level, and, on the other
side, covered with a heavy growth of timber.
Bridges must be
built, and the hazardous task was assigned to the First Brigade. In crossing a
level stretch of cleared land, by looking back, I could see the whole brigade
in motion, winding along like a huge serpent and extending nearly a mile in
length, and a feeling of pride and exultation surged over me as I saw, once
more, the grand old Ninth Corps advancing on our country's foe, and led, too,
by the glorious Seventeenth.
On arriving at the
river we formed in line behind a bank, thickly covered with brush, and awaited
the darkness of night before beginning our task.
At dusk each
regiment was formed into reliefs, for fatigue duty, and the work of building
began.
Contrary to our
expectations, no opposition was offered. A raft was built on which skirmishers
were carried over, but they found no enemy. As soon as they discovered our
determination to cross, they fell back toward Jackson. We built our bridge, and
crossed the next day, July 7th, at 12 m. A deserter told us they had heard of
the surrender of Vicksburg, and had left in haste. Quite a number of mules and
beef cattle were left behind, and were taken in charge by our Quartermaster.
Here our advance assumed somewhat the nature of a forced march. We halted but a
few minutes at a time, and continued, until nearly midnight, to feel our way.
Our first day's march, after crossing the river, was over a rough, broken
country, covered by a thick growth of timber, which afforded a grateful shade,
alternated by open stretches of cleared land, where the sun beat down upon us
in all its fierceness. Many of our men fell out; several were sunstruck, two of
whom died in a few minutes. On our previous short marches we had been greatly
inconvenienced by the scarcity of water, but we had now to travel thirty miles
through a country almost destitute of springs or streams, the inhabitants
depending on cisterns and artificial ponds for themselves and stock. I have not
seen a well of water in Mississippi. The negroes tell us we will not find a
drop of water for thirteen miles for man or beast. The long-continued drought
has nearly exhausted cisterns and dried up most of the artificial ponds. We
could only push ahead and trust in providence. But we were not left to perish, for
that very night we marched into camp in the midst of one of the heaviest
thunder showers I ever witnessed. It seems to me as much a miracle as the
"Smiting of the rock for the Children of Israel." And I thanked God
and took courage. That, and the frequent showers that followed, saved thousands
of men and horses from perishing of thirst. As often happens when large bodies
of troops are in motion, our supply train did not come up, and the second
morning from the river found us with empty haversacks. Unlike Virginia, this
part of Mississippi abounds in cattle and hogs, and the ravines around our camp
were soon converted into slaughter houses, from which our men supplied
themselves with meat. We stayed here until 2 o'clock p. m. for the train to
came up; half rations were issued, and we resumed our march, and kept it up
until midnight. This was a hard day for men and horses, owing to the scarcity
of water and the excessive heat. A number of men died of sunstroke, anl
twenty-five horses were found dead. Not a man of the Seventeenth has died,
although several were compelled to fall out. As for myself, I marched near the
head of the regiment all day, and was ready for a like excursion the next
morning. We camped that night within five miles of Jackson, and our advance had
already skirmished with their pickets, who had slowly fallen back. We were
aroused at 4 in the morning, drew four days' rations, and a little after 5 were
on the move, cautiously feeling our way to avoid surprise. We marched in this
way about two miles, when the enemy was discovered about three-fourths of a
mile ahead, in a cornfield, drawn up in line of battle. Smith's division formed
quickly to oppose them, artillery was ordered to the front, and every
preparation was made for an engagement, but, before our artillery could be
brought to bear, they fell back to the left of the city and took up a position
in a piece of timber.
About a mile from
that place we halted and prepared again for battle. Rebel cavalry could be seen
hovering near our left, while a strong force of infantry could plainly be seen
in the woods in front of us. Our brigade the First—was ordered to the front,
and formed in line of battle, supported by the Third Brigade. The Forty-fifth
Pennsylvania and Second Michigan deployed as skirmishers about forty rods in
advance of us. They moved cautiously about one hundred yards, when the enemy
fired on them, wounding four. This was a signal for an advance. We had formed
in a cornfield, and advanced at 2:30 p. m. The sky was cloudless; not a breath
of air was stirring. Our course, after emerging from the cornfield, lay across
a level pasture. We advanced steadily, but the Rebels fell back as we
approached, firing occasionally, until dark, when we halted in the wood until
morning, sleeping on our arms. Soon after daylight we were up and after them,
keeping, all this time, our line of battle. As we emerged into an open field we
were saluted by a volley that passed harmlessly over our heads. This was their
parting salute, for they immediately retired behind their fortifications, and
we took up the position assigned us on the left of the city.
I have written these
sketches as I could snatch a moment here and there, a few lines at a time.
SOURCE: David Lane,
A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, p. 64-8
