February 7, 1864
It is one in the morning and I have, so to speak, just taken
a midnight dinner, having come in from the front between 11 and 12 o’clock.
Well, who would have thought of marching out of comfortable winter quarters, to
go poking round the Rapidan! . . . Only last night orders were suddenly issued
to the 1st and 2d Corps to march at sunrise, the one on Raccoon, the other on
Morton's Ford; where they were to make a strong demonstration and perhaps cross
at Morton's (Raccoon being too strong). Certain cavalry, also, were to go to
other points, with special orders. The whole thing was very sudden, all round,
and none of our fish. This morning we took an early breakfast, which,
with the ready horses, quite reminded one of campaigning times. General
Sedgwick was over, being in command, as viceroy. At 10.30 we began to hear the
cannon, but General Humphreys would not stir, as he said he must stay to attend
to the despatches and telegraph. However, at 3 P.M., he suddenly did start,
with his own aides and Biddle, Mason, Cadwalader and myself, de la part de General
Meade; also Rosencrantz. To Morton's Ford is some ten miles, but you might as
well call it fifty, such is the state of the roads. Mud, varying from fetlocks
to knees, then holes, runs, ditches and rocks — such was the road. With utmost
diligence it took fully two hours. . . .
Here we had thrown across a division, and General Warren was with them. The
enemy had offered a good deal of opposition, with a skirmish fire and with artillery;
despite which the whole division had waded the stream, up to their waists (cold
work for the 6th of February!), and were now in line, behind some ridges; while
a heavy skirmish line covered their front. Enclosing them, almost in a
semi-circle, were the Rebel earthworks. It looked a shaky position for us! All
was quiet; the men were making coffee, and nothing broke the stillness but an
occasional shot from the sharpshooters. “Well,” said General Humphreys, “I must
go across and look about, while there is light left. I don't want many to go.
McClellan, you will come; and Major Biddle and Colonel Lyman, if you would
like, I shall be glad of your company.” So off we four rode, and met Warren
coming back, before we got to the river. But he at once turned horse and kept
on with us. The ford was very bad, deep and with steep sides, but we floundered
over, and I was once again south of the Rapid Ann. . . . As we got to the main line, “Now,” said
General Warren, “get off here and I will take you as far as you can go, very
soon.” We dismounted and remained, while the two Generals went some 150 yards
to Morton's house on the crest of the ridge, where they no sooner got than a
sharpshooter fired at them and the ball flew harmless over our heads, though it
came close to General Warren. But hang it all! We had not been there five
minutes when that infernal old sound came, whing-z-z-z-z, and over went
a spherical case! “Fall in, fall in!” shouted the colonels, and the men took
their arms. Whing-z-z! Bang! came another, right into the infantry,
killing a poor man. “Steady! steady!” roared the colonels. Whing-z-z-z-z!
Bang! and one of the pieces struck close to me, while one of the bullets
struck the scabbard of the orderly next me, who coolly picked up the missile.
We were a little sheltered by the road, but, I don't care who knows it, I did
duck when that spherical case came over. By this time the Generals got back and
mounted, the enemy continuing the fire but throwing their shot too high. We had
not got far towards the river, when they began with musketry, a very heavy
skirmish fire, and seemed about to make a general attack; but it turned out to
be a strong attempt to drive back our skirmish line from a favorable fence they
had secured; and the artillery was a cover for their advance. When we got back
to the high ground by Robinson's, we could look across and see the fight,
though it was growing dark and the air was very foggy. Our artillery opened on
them also, and, in course of an hour or so, night set in, and the firing
ceased, our line holding its own everywhere. And now the poor wounded fellows
began to come in, some alone, some supported, and some in ambulances. The
surgeons were numerous and all that could be wished for. Except one or two
mortally hurt, there was nothing sad in it, so manly were the men and so
cheerful. Not a groan, not a complaint. I asked one man who was staggering
along, if he were much hurt. “Very slightly,” he remarked, in a lively tone. I
found what he called “very slightly” was a musket-ball directly through the
thigh. These men are wonderful, much more so, I think (proportionately), than
the officers. There was a whole division wet to the waist, on a rainy February
day, exposed each instant to attack, and yet making little pots of coffee, in
the open air, as calmly as if at Revere House.
Oh! what a ride had we home! It took us over three hours,
with the help of a lantern. . . .
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 68-71
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