Headquarters Army Of Potomac
10 P.M. Sunday, May 15,
1864
Well, to be more or less under fire, for six days out of
seven, is not very good for the nerves, or very pleasant. But now that there is
a quiet day, I thought I would make a beginning of describing to you the sad,
bloody work we have been at. I will write enough to make a letter and so go on
in future letters, only writing what can now be of no importance to the enemy.
The morning of Wednesday the 4th of May (or rather the night, for we were up by
starlight) was clear and warm. By daylight we had our breakfast, and all was in
a hurry with breaking up our winter camp. To think of it to-night makes it seem
a half-year ago; but it is only eleven days. About 5.30 A.M. we turned our
backs on what had been our little village for six months. Already the whole
army had been some hours in motion. The 5th Corps, followed by the 6th, was to
cross at Germanna Ford, and march towards the Orange pike. The 2d Corps to
march on Chancellorsville, crossing at Ely's Ford; each corps was preceded by a
division of cavalry, to picket the roads and scour the country. The main wagon-train
rested on the north side at Richardsville. So you see the first steps were much
like the Mine Run campaign. I have drawn a little map to help you in
understanding; not very exact in proportions, but still enough so.
The roads were hard and excellent, full of waggons and black
with troops; as we got past Stevensburg and went through a more wooded country,
there were the little green leaves just opening, and purple violets, in great
plenty, by the wayside. As the sun got fairly up, it grew much warmer, as one
could see by the extra blankets and overcoats that our men threw away, whenever
they halted. By 8 A.M. we drew near the Ford, and halted at a familiar spot,
where we had our camp on the Mine Run campaign. How bitterly cold it was then!
And now there was green grass all about, and wild flowers. Griffin's division
was already over, and the others were following steadily on. At 9.30 we went
over ourselves, and, for a long time, I sat on the high bank, some seventy feet
above the river, watching the steady stream of men and cannon and trains pouring
over the pontoons. It was towards six in the evening before the last were
across; and then one bridge was left for Burnside to cross by; for he was
marching in all haste, from Rappahannock station. Meantime the head of the 5th
Corps had reached the Orange pike, and that of the 2d, Chancellorsville. The
Headquarters pitched their now reduced tents on the bank of the river that
night, and I went down and took a slight bath in the stream, by way of
celebrating our advance. General Grant came up betimes in the morning and had
his tents near ours. He has several very sensible officers on his Staff, and
several very foolish ones, who talked and laughed flippantly about Lee and his
army. But they have changed their note now, and you hear no more of
their facetiousness. The more experienced officers were sober, like men who
knew what work was ahead. Our first grief was a ludicrous one. Our cook, a
small Gaul, had mysteriously disappeared, and all we had left to cook for us
was a waiter lad, who however rose with the occasion and was very conspicuous
for activity. It turned out after, that the cook was arrested as a suspicious
person, despite his violent protestations. . . .
We were off betimes the next morning (Thursday, May 5th),
and about 7 o'clock got to the junction of the plank and pike, the troops
meantime marching past us, as we stood waiting news from the front. Presently
Griffin (5th Corps), who was two miles out on the pike (going west), reported
the enemy in his front; while the cavalry, thrown out on the plank road,
towards Parker's Store, sent to say that the Rebel infantry were marching down
in force, driving them in. General Wright's division of the 6th Corps was
turned off the Germanna plank to the right and ordered to march down the
cross-road you see on the map, leading to the pike; and he and Griffin were
directed to press the enemy and try to make a junction by their wings. At 10.40
A.M. General Getty's division (6th Corps) was sent to hold the Orange plank
road. It marched down the Germanna plank and took the little cross-road where
the dotted line is, and got to the Orange plank just in time to stop the
advance of A. P. Hill's Corps. Meantime the rest of the 5th Corps was ordered
into position on the left of, or in support of, General Griffin, about parallel
to the most westerly dotted line, crossing the pike. Word was sent to 2d Corps,
near Chancellorsville, that the Rebels were moving on us, and ordering Hancock
to at once bring his men across to the Brock road and so take position on the
left in support of General Getty. At noon, I was sent to General Getty, to tell
him the disposition of the various troops and to direct him to feel along to
his right, and find roads to communicate with the left of the 5th Corps, where,
you will see, there was a considerable gap. Our Headquarters were on a piney
knoll near the join of the Germanna plank and the pike. I rode down the dotted
cross-road and came immediately on General Eustis, just putting his brigade
into the woods, on Getty's right. I stopped and directed him to throw out well
to the right and to try to find Crawford, or a road to him.
Here it is proper to say something of the nature of this
country, whereof I have already spoken somewhat during Mine Run times. A very
large part of this region, extending east and west along the plank and pike,
and the south, nearly to Spotsylvania, is called “The Wilderness,” a most
appropriate term — a land of an exhausted, sandy soil, supporting a more or less
dense growth of pine or of oak. There are some cleared spaces, especially near
Germanna plank, where our Headquarters are marked. The very worst of it is
parallel with Orange plank and upper part of the Brock road. Here it is mostly
a low, continuous, thick growth of small saplings, fifteen to thirty feet high
and seldom larger than one's arm. The half-grown leaves added to the natural
obscurity, and there were many places where a line of troops could with
difficulty be seen at fifty yards. This was the terrain on which we were
called to manoeuvre a great army. I found General Getty at the plank road (a
spot I shall remember for some years) and gave him instructions. He told me the
whole of Hill's Corps was in his front and the skirmishers only 300 yards from
us. For all I could see they might have been in Florida, but the occasional
wounded men who limped by, and the sorry spectacle of two or three dead,
wrapped in their blankets, showed that some fighting had already taken place. I
got back and reported a little before one o'clock, and had scarcely got there
when B-r-r-r-r torang went the musketry, in front of Griffin and of
Wright, which for the next hour and a half was continuous — not by volley, for
that is impossible in such woods; but a continuous crackle, now swelling and
now abating, and interspersed with occasional cannon. Very soon the ambulances
began to go forward for their mournful freight. A little before two, I was sent
with an order to a cavalry regiment, close by. The pike was a sad spectacle
indeed; it was really obstructed with trains of ambulances and with the wounded
on foot; all had the same question, over and over again; “How far to the 5th
Corps’ hospital?” As I
returned, I saw, coming towards me, a mounted officer — his face was covered
with blood and he was kept in the saddle only by an officer who rode beside him
and his servant who walked on the other side. “Hullo, Lyman!” he cried, in a
wild way that showed he was wandering; “here I am; hurt a little; not much; I
am going to lie down a few minutes, and then I am going back again! Oh, you ought
to have seen how we drove ’em — I had the first line!” It was my classmate,
Colonel Hayes, of the 18th Massachusetts; as fearless a soldier as ever went
into action. There we were, three of us together, for the officer who supported
him was Dr. Dalton. Three classmates together, down in the Virginia Wilderness,
and a great fight going on in front. I was afraid Hayes was mortally hurt, but
I am told since, he will recover. I trust so.
Gradually the musketry died away; and, at a quarter before
three, General Griffin rode up — his face was stern and flushed, as it well
might be. He said he had attacked and driven Ewell's troops three quarters of a
mile, but that Wright had made no join on his right and Wadsworth had been
forced back on his left, so that with both flanks exposed he had been obliged
to fall back to his former position.1 Meantime we got word that the head of
Hancock's column had moved up the Brock road and made a junction with Getty. At
3.15 I was sent with an order to General Getty to attack at once, and to
explain to him that Hancock would join also. He is a cool man, is Getty, quite
a wonder; as I saw then and after. “Go to General Eustis and General Wheaton,”
he said to his aides, “and tell them to prepare to advance at once.” And so we
were getting into it! And everybody had been ordered up, including Burnside,
who had crossed that very morning at Germanna Ford. General Grant had his
station with us (or we with him); there he took his seat on the grass, and
smoked his briarwood pipe, looking sleepy and stern and indifferent. His face,
however, may wear a most pleasing smile, and I believe he is a thoroughly
amiable man. That he believes in his star and takes a bright view of things is
evident. At 4.15 P.M. General Meade ordered me to take some orderlies, go to
General Hancock (whose musketry we could now hear on the left) and send him
back reports, staying there till dark. Delightful! At the crossing of the
dotted cross-road with the plank sat Hancock, on his fine horse — the preux
chevalier of this campaign — a glorious soldier, indeed! The musketry was
crashing in the woods in our front, and stray balls — too many to be pleasant —
were coming about. It's all very well for novels, but I don't like such places
and go there only when ordered. “Report to General Meade,” said Hancock, “that
it is very hard to bring up troops in this wood, and that only a part of my
Corps is up, but I will do as well as I can.” Up rides an officer: “Sir!
General Getty is hard pressed and nearly out of ammunition!” “Tell him to hold
on and General Gibbon will be up to help him.” Another officer: “General Mott's
division has broken, sir, and is coming back.” “Tell him to stop them, sir!!”
roared Hancock in a voice of a trumpet. As he spoke, a crowd of troops came
from the woods and fell back into the Brock road. Hancock dashed among them. “Halt
here! halt here! Form behind this rifle-pit. Major Mitchell, go to Gibbon and
tell him to come up on the double-quick!” It was a welcome sight to see
Carroll's brigade coming along that Brock road, he riding at their head as calm
as a May morning. “Left face — prime — forward,” and the line disappeared in
the woods to waken the musketry with double violence. Carroll was brought back
wounded. Up came Hays's brigade, disappeared in the woods, and, in a few
minutes, General Hays was carried past me, covered with blood, shot through the
head.
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1 Of this incident Lyman writes in his journal: "2.45.
Griffin comes in, followed by his mustering officer, Geo. Barnard. He is stern
and angry. Says in a loud voice that he drove back the enemy, Ewell, ¾ of a
mile, but got no support on the flanks, and had to retreat — the regulars much
cut up. Implies censure on Wright, and apparently also on his corps commander,
Warren. Wadsworth also driven back. Rawlins got very angry, considered the
language mutinous, and wished him put in arrest. Grant seemed of the same mind
and asked Meade: ‘Who is this General Gregg? You ought to arrest him!’
Meade said: ‘It's Griffin, not Gregg; and it's only his way of talking.’”
SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s
Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness
to Appomattox, p. 85-91
