THE LANDING AND
MARCH.
The morning of the 13th was dark and rainy, and we made
preparations to land. It always rains where we go; first at Hatteras, then at
Roanoke and now here. I think we are rightly named a water division.
We landed in a mudhole, at the mouth of Slocum’s creek. Before
noon the troops were all landed, and the march commenced. The 25th taking the advance,
we marched up the river bank about a mile, the gun-boats shelling the woods in
advance of us. We then struck into the woods, which presented a novel appearance.
There was no undergrowth, but a short grass covered the ground, while masses of
long gray moss hung in festoons from the branches of the trees, giving them a
weird and sombre appearance. We soon came out to a cart road, or horse path,
along which we followed for about a couple of miles, when we came to a deserted
cavalry camp. I reckon when they heard the sounds of revelry on the river,
there was mountings in hot haste, and they sped away to some safer locality. The
clouds now broke and the sun shone out hot, which, together with the mud, made the
march a toilsome one. A little further on, we came to the carriage road. Here
Foster's brigade halted, to let Reno's and Parke's brigades move past us.
As Parke's brigade marched past us, we saw at the right of one
of the companies in the 5th Rhode Island regiment, marching by the side of the
orderly, a lady, dressed in a natty suit, with high boots and jockey hat, surmounted
by a big ostrich feather. She was the observed of our whole brigade, and cheer
after cheer went up along the line for the pretty woman. Continuing our march a
little farther we reached some extensive earthworks, which were abandoned, but
for what reason we of course were ignorant. But we reasoned that if they build
works like these and then make no effort to hold them, it shows they are weak
and have no confidence in their ability to successfully contend against us, and
Newbern will fall an easy prey. The deep mud in the road, together with the heat,
began to tell on the boys, and many of them were obliged to fall out by the
way. Our march began to grow slower, and when about dusk, it commenced raining
again, we turned into the woods at the right of the road, where we were to
bivouac for the night. Scouting parties and pickets were sent out in order to
give notice if anything unusual was about to transpire during the night. Here
in the soft mud of the swamp, with the rain pouring down on us, was our hotel.
Mrs. Hemans, in her song of the Pilgrims, said,
“Amidst the storm
they sang.”
But there was no song in that swamp; too tired for supper the
boys laid themselves down in the mud to sleep, and bitterly thought of the morrow.
Stokes and I roomed together between a couple of logs. Taking our rifles and
powder between us and covering ourselves closely in the blankets, we were soon
fast asleep. But he kept the advantage of me all night, for he is a great
fellow to pull blankets, and he came out in the morning all right and dry,
while I had been catching the rain. The boys slept well, but woke up cold and
wet. There was no time to make a cup of coffee, for we were close on the enemy,
and the order was again to the battle. We caught a few hasty mouthfuls of cold
meat and hardtack, and quietly fell into our places in line.
THE BATTLE.
We fellows who do the shooting are not counted as any great
shakes ordinarily, but yesterday morning we seemed to be regarded as of very
great importance, and it took a great amount of swearing and hurrying to and
fro of aids and hoarse shoutings of officers to get us around where we were
wanted. We were within a half mile of the enemy's line, and Reno's and Parke's brigades
were deploying in front of them, on the centre and left of our line. Foster's brigade
was to take the right, and the 25th led off up the road, followed by the 24th
Massachusetts and the other regiments of the brigade. We soon came in sight of
the enemy's works, which were only a short rifle-shot from us. Reno's and
Parke's brigades had already opened the ball along the center and left. We
filed out of the road to the right, moving towards the river. As we moved out we
were honored with a salute from one of the enemy's batteries, but the shots passed
harmlessly over our heads. The boys looked a little wild, but with steady step
moved on until the 25th and 24th Massachusetts were in line on the right of the
road; the 27th and 23d Massachusetts and the 10th Connecticut regiments were on
the left.
Foster's brigade was now in line of battle and moving forward
towards the edge of the woods next to the clearing. The howitzer battery now
came up, took position in the road, between the 24th and 27th Massachusetts, and
commenced firing. With the exception of the 25th, Foster's brigade then opened
fire. We were on the extreme right and well towards the river, seeing nothing
in front of us to draw our fire. The 24th Massachusetts kept up a scattering
fire that kept the enemy well down behind their works.
We were ordered, if possible, to turn the enemy’s left. We
advanced nearly to the edge of the woods, and only a short distance from the
enemy's line. I was running my eye along it to see where and how it ended, expecting
every moment to hear the order to charge, but just then the boats commenced throwing
shell over us, towards the Confederate line. They had got a low range and their
shells were coming dangerously near, splintering and cutting off the trees, and
ploughing great furrows in the ground directly in front of us. In this
condition of affairs we Were compelled to fall back. The boats, however, were
soon notified of their mistake and ceased firing. We again advanced, going over
and beyond from where we fell back, when all at once we received a galling
flank fire from an unseen battery. We again fell back a few rods, dressing the line
and again cautiously advanced. We now discovered that their works curved and connected
with a large water battery, situated just in the edge of the woods and
concealed by the trees. In the rear of this battery were mounted old 32-pounder
marine guns, which gave them an enfilading fire of the clearing in front of their
works. From these guns they fired grape shot, which weighed about four pounds
each. To charge was hopeless, and in falling back we received another fire from
this battery. From these we lost quite a number of men, killed and wounded. I
had the honor of stopping one ball myself; it struck a tree, however, before it
did me. Having got back from under the guns of this battery, Col. Upton
reported the situation to Gen. Foster, who ordered him to move his regiment to the
left of the 24th Massachusetts and support the howitzer battery. During all
this time, however, the battle was raging furiously along the centre and left.
While we were bothering around on the right, a little incident occurred, which
perhaps is worthy of mention. Lieut. Draper of my company (B), but now attached
to the signal corps, reported to Capt. Clark for duty. He said there was
nothing more for the signal corps to do and he would like to take his place in the
line. The captain told him he could do as he liked; he thereupon joined his
company, and did duty with it the rest of the day. Although a young man of only
20 years of age, he has got the stuff in him of which soldiers are made. In
front of our battery the enemy had a large gun which commanded the road, and
which proved rather troublesome. This gun after each discharge was hauled
around, and again back into position, by a pair of mules. After each discharge a
young dare-devil of a marine lieutenant would run down the road almost to the gun,
to see what they were up to. On one of these excursions he discovered one of
the mules down, probably from a stray shot. He came running back up the road like
a wild man, swinging his cap, and shouting at the top of his voice: “Come on, come
on 1 for God's sake, come on. Now is your time!” The 25th, without any other order,
sprang forward, followed by the 24th Massachusetts and all the line. On the charge
they received a heavy fire from the enfilading battery, but on they went,
scaling the ditch and parapet like blackbirds, but no enemy was there. Seeing
us coming, they took that as a notice to leave, and acted on it immediately. Inside
the works, I heard Gen. Burnside ask Gen. Foster who gave the order to charge.
Foster replied he didn't know, but it made no difference so long as it was
done. The 25th reformed, and, marching a short distance to the rear, charged across
the railroad, into the swamp, capturing Col. Avery and his South Carolina
regiment, who were covering the retreat. Thus, after five hours' hard fighting,
ended the battle of Newbern. Victory had again perched upon our banners, and the
cheers of the victors were ringing out on every side. Although the battle resulted
as I wished, I certainly did not feel like glorying for who can compute the
woe, anguish and sorrow of this day's work? I cannot get over my horror of a
battle,
“Where the death
angel flaps his broad wing o'er the field,
And human souls go
out in agony.”
OUR ENTRANCE INTo NEwBERN.
Foster's brigade starts up the railroad for town, leaving
Reno's and Parke's, brigades to take care of the field. Cautiously we moved
along, thinking, perhaps, the enemy may have formed a second line and are
awaiting our approach. It soon became apparent, however, that they were making the
distance between them and us as long as possible. We then hurried along,
arriving at the river where the railroad bridge was burned which crossed into
town. The view from here was an appalling one. The railroad bridge, a fine structure
upwards of 1500 feet in length, was in ruins and the town was on fire in
several places. Dense clouds of smoke of inky blackness settled like a pall over
the town, while every few moments the lurid flames, with their forked tongues, would
leap above the clouds, and the bellowing of the gunboats on the river, throwing
their large shells over the town after the retreating enemy, conspired to make
a most hideous scene.
It was near the middle of the afternoon when the old ferry
boat Curlew (which a few weeks before I had wished sunk) arrived. On board
this, Major McCafferty, with a mixed company of about 100 men, with the colors,
crossed the river and landed on the wharf at the foot of Craven street. These
were the first troops and colors in the city. After landing we marched up
Craven nearly to Pollock street, when we halted. The major did not appear to
have any business on hand or instructions to make any, so we waited for further
orders or for the regiment to join us.
Here was presented an indescribable scene. A town on fire,
an invading army entering its gates, the terror-stricken inhabitants fleeing in
every direction. The negroes were holding a grand jubilee, some of them praying
and in their rude way thanking God for their deliverance; others, in their wild
delight, were dancing and singing, while others, with an eye to the main chance,
were pillaging the stores and dwellings. But in the midst of all this appalling
tumult and confusion, the boys, true to the natural instincts of the soldier, were
looking around to see what could be found in the line of trophies and fresh rations.
They soon began to come in with their plunder, which the major told them to
carry back, as he should allow no pillaging while he was in command. Presently
Stokes comes along bringing a little package. The major asked, “What have you
there?” “Sausages, sir!” “Go, carry them back where you got them from.” “I reckon
not,” replied Stokes, “a lady out here gave them to me.” The major was
incredulous, but Stokes offered to show him the lady and let her tell it, whereupon
the former subsides, and Stokes, with a roguish twinkle of his eye, jams the package
into my haversack, saying, “Sausage for breakfast.” I was proud of the boy, to
see how well he was observing instructions, as I have told him from the start
that to stand any sort of a chance as a soldier, he must learn to do a right
smart job of stealing, and be able to lie the hair right off a man's head. He has
certainly shown some smallness, and I doubt if a commissioned officer could
have done any better. The regiment landed at the north side of the city, and about
night rejoined us. Our hard day's work was at last finished, the regiment was
dismissed and the companies quartered in any unoccupied buildings they might
find. Generals Burnside and Foster, with soldiers, citizens and negroes, were
putting out the fires and bringing order out of confusion. Company B was
quartered in a small house on Craven street, and the boys, although hungry,
tired and worn down by the fatigues of the day, made frolic of the evening and celebrated
their victory.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the
25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 42-6
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