March 26, 1865
My
letter of yesterday only gave a part of the day's work. Our train went
briskly up to the front and stopped not far from the little rustic chapel you
saw; for there was General Parke with his Staff, waiting to receive the General
and report the morning's work. . . .
Brevet Brigadier McLaughlen got taken in trying to maintain his line — a good
officer. He was the one who had been five days in Boston and told me he was so
tired that he thought he should go right back. A certain Major Miller was
captured and sent, with a guard of four men, a little to the rear. They sat in
a bomb-proof for protection and Miller did so describe the glories of Yankeedom
to his captors, that, when we retook the work, they all deserted and came over
with him! Then we kept on and got out at our own domus, where General
Meade (it being then about 11.30 A.M.) telegraphed sundry orders to his
generals; wherefrom resulted, at 12.15, the greatest bang, bang, whang, from
good Duke Humphrey, who, spectacles on nose, rushed violently at the entrenched
skirmish line of the enemy and captured the same, with the double view of
making a reconnaissance and a diversion, and furthermore of showing the Johns
that we were not going to be pitched into without hitting back.
Then there was a
lull, filled by the arrival of a long grey procession of some 1500 prisoners
from the 9th Corps. Really these men possess a capacity for looking “rough”
beyond any people I ever saw, except the townsmen of Signor Fra Diavolo. They
grew rougher and rougher. These looked brown and athletic, but had the most
matted hair, tangled beards, and slouched hats, and the most astounding
carpets, horse-sheets and transmogrified shelter-tents for blankets, that you
ever imagined. One grim gentleman, of forbidding aspect, had tempered his
ferocity by a black, broad-brimmed straw hat, such as country ministers
sometimes wear — a head-dress which, as Whittier remarked, “rather forced the
season!” Singularly enough, the train just then came up and the President and
General Grant, followed by a small party, rode over to the Headquarters. “I
have just now a despatch from General Parke to show you,” said General Meade. “Ah,”
quoth the ready Abraham, pointing to the parade-ground of the Provost-Marshal, “there
is the best despatch you can show me from General Parke!” The President is,
I think, the ugliest man I ever put my eyes on; there is also an expression of
plebeian vulgarity in his face that is offensive (you recognize the recounter
of coarse stories). On the other hand, he has the look of sense and wonderful
shrewdness, while the heavy eyelids give him a mark almost of genius. He
strikes me, too, as a very honest and kindly man; and, with all his vulgarity,
I see no trace of low passions in his face. On the whole, he is such a mixture
of all sorts, as only America brings forth. He is as much like a highly
intellectual and benevolent Satyr as anything I can think of. I never wish to
see him again, but, as humanity runs, I am well content to have him at the head
of affairs. . . . After which digression
I will remark that the President (who looks very fairly on a horse) reviewed
the 3d division, 5th Corps, which had marched up there to support the line, and
were turned into a review. As the Chief Magistrate rode down the ranks,
plucking off his hat gracefully by the hinder part of the brim, the troops
cheered quite loudly. Scarcely was the review done when, by way of salute, all
those guns you saw by Fort Fisher opened with shells on the enemy's picket
line, which you could see, entrenched, from where you stood. Part of the 6th
Corps then advanced and, after a sharp fight, which lasted, with heavy
skirmishing, till sunset, drove off the Rebels and occupied their position,
driving them towards their main line. At four and at seven P.M. the enemy
charged furiously on Humphreys, to recover their picket line, but were repulsed
with great loss; our men never behaved better. Both Wright and Humphreys took
several hundred prisoners, swelling the total for the day to 2700, more than we
have had since the noted 12th of May. Our total loss is from 1800 to 2000;
while that of the enemy must be from 4000 to 5000 plus a great
discouragement. Isn't it funny for you to think of the polite Humphreys riding
round in an ambulance with you Friday, and, the next day, smashing fiercely
about in a fight?
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 323-6
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