Captain Richard F. Halstead to Miss Sedgwick, May 13, 1863

Headquarters 6th Corps,

Camp Near White Oak Church,

May 13, 1863.

My dear Miss Sedgwick:

The General has just informed me that you were quite anxious to learn some of the particulars of our late movement on the other side of the Rappahannock, and asked me if I would like to make the attempt to give you an idea of what the 6th Corps had done. I am sure that I feel a great pleasure in doing anything I can to give you all that I know, but I am also sure that, however hearty my efforts may be, I shall fall far short of reality, very far short, I fear, of making the matter interesting. It requires one of two things to be able to do this well, neither of which do I possess, namely, long experience or genius. I am neither a Russell nor a Smalley. Do you remember the latter's remarkable description of the battle of Antietam, published in the “Tribune,” and so very extensively copied?

When this late campaign began the General — I mean your brother — had quite a little army under his command. General Hooker sent about four corps to cross the river at United States Ford, leaving the General in command of three corps, the 1st, 3rd, and his own, amounting to about fifty thousand men. The general plan was that we, i.e., these three corps under the General, should make a strong demonstration just below Fredericksburg, at and below the place where Franklin made his crossing under Burnside, while Hooker was to make the main attack, if possible, on their rear and left flank. Our action depended entirely on the movements of the enemy. He might force us to convert our feigned attack into a real one, and for this reason a strong force was left here. The previous movements of our cavalry under Stoneman were, as you will have already learned from the newspapers, to prepare for the total defeat of the army under Lee by cutting or interrupting his communications.

It was, I think, on the 28th of April (dates have been so confused in my mind lately that I shall have to trust to you to make obvious corrections) that the order — the final order — to move came to us. Generals Sickles (3rd Corps) and Reynolds (1st) were to report to the General. It was a dismally rainy day. One large brigade, known as the “Light Division,” was sent to the pontoon train to carry the boats about two miles to the bank of the river, a most fatiguing and, some of us thought, a very unnecessary proceeding.

The ground on this side of the river is for about a third of a mile a perfect flat, evidently an old water bottom. Then comes a range of low hills, cut here and there by ravines — just the ground in and by which to conceal large numbers of men. Behind and quite near were woods, in and behind which the corps encamped the first night. The pontoon train was moved up as far by the teams as was safe from observation by the enemy. Luckily there was something of a fog, which increased as night came on. At eleven P.M. the men detailed for the purpose were to begin carrying the pontoons to the place of crossing. At a given point other men from General Brooks's division (the 1st of our corps) were to meet the boats in parties of sixty to each boat, to cross the river and take possession of the opposite bank. I do not know how many men it required to carry each boat; it was so dark I could not see, although many times close to them. I should think not less than twenty-five. Poor devils! they had a hard task. The approach to the river was very slow. Before daylight about twenty boats had been placed in the water. Everything on the other side was perfectly quiet; nothing unusual was observed. The fog was quite dense, but before the boats began to arrive the enemy's pickets were occasionally heard talking among themselves or singing. The boats were carried with as little noise as possible, but the distance to the other side — about four hundred feet — was too small to prevent some noise being heard. At the last, however, it became useless to attempt a longer concealment of the mere noise. Then matters were rushed through with a will. All this time the dense fog continued. Finally, at the first dawn of light, the boats, about fifteen in number, I think, — I could not see them well enough to count them, — were manned by the engineer soldiers who were to row them and were filled by the designated troops, which were of General Russell's brigade, and, as nearly as possible, they all pushed off together. Not a sound was heard from the other side. Officers on our side and some in the boats were giving orders and directions in loud tones. The boats moved on in the dim light, and in a very few seconds faded away into faint, uncertain shadows. We could hear the oars, we could even hear the beaching of the boats on the opposite bank; the noise became a little fainter, and we felt sure that they must have landed; another moment of suspense, and then there shone out through the fog just one bright spark of fire, followed instantly by the report of a musket, and then succeeded a volley, a rattling volley, from about a regiment of men in the rifle-pits near the bank. But their firing was wild. The most of the bullets came whistling over the heads of the men on the bluff on this side, not less than fifty feet above the level of the water. Very few men in the boats were injured, one killed and eight wounded. After the, first volley by the enemy there was no further interference with our possession of the position occupied. The boats were at once brought back, refilled with men, and sent to the other side, until two brigades were on that bank. Then the work of constructing two bridges was at once begun. Artillery was posted on this side in such manner as to support the troops thrown over. The bridges being completed, the rest of General Brooks's division passed over and strengthened their position as soon as possible by means of rifle-pits.

Meanwhile General Reynolds, who was to effect a crossing about half a mile below, had been unsuccessful in making lodgment on the south bank. I think that it was not till the afternoon that he effected his purpose, with a loss considerably heavier than at the crossing of the 6th Corps. He also began to put himself in a position to hold the ground, and by his making rifle-pits finally drew upon himself the fire from a strong, well-posted battery within good range. To this fire our heavy batteries on this side replied, though without apparent effect, the distance being too great. General Reynolds lost a few men, less than half a dozen, I think, by this fire.

Having effected our lodgment on that side of the river, and finding that the enemy was disposed not to try to drive us back, General Hooker took from us the 3rd Corps, and the following day, if I remember rightly, ordered General Reynolds also to join him near Chancellorsville. This left the 6th Corps alone in its glory. Reynolds's bridges were taken up, and we awaited orders. These came to us so irregularly from defects in the telegraph that it was impossible to execute some of them. General Brooks's men had made themselves comfortable on the other side. His skirmishers were within little more than pistol-shot of those of the enemy. Their line of battle was distinctly visible in the line of the railroad, and the only disposition they had shown to be at all disagreeable was by a harmless artillery fire at intervals, entirely unprovoked on our part.

Lying thus in suspense, an order came to us to pursue the enemy on the Bowling Green Road (south from Fredericksburg), that they were flying, routed to Richmond. Then came another order to march to Chancellorsville, to unite with Hooker, crushing and destroying any force which we might find opposed to us. This was Saturday night. At about one o'clock A.M. the head of the column was in motion toward Fredericksburg. We had information from Butterfield, Hooker's Chief of Staff, that there were but three regiments in front of us, in the works on the heights. The road was bad for artillery, and our progress was slow. At daybreak the head of the column was halted at the entrance to the town, General Newton not wishing to run the risk of anything like a panic through a surprise. About sunrise the General and his staff came up to where the first troops were halted. There had been, I should have said, some skirmishing nearly all the way to the town, losses not large. A movement upon the enemy's works was at once ordered. The regiments sent up could not see a sign of a rebel. They were quite near the first line of works when they were saluted by a heavy musketry and artillery fire, and repulsed; i.e., they did not gain the works, but they remained on the ground, lying down, protected by a slight elevation. Immediately batteries were ordered into position to shell the works; but it was all, or nearly all, uphill work, and not much damage could have been done. All it did accomplish was to make the enemy keep his head out of sight. One or two of our regiments were sent into the town, to prevent anything like a surprise on our flank. We then found that our engineers had already commenced a bridge directly opposite the town, over which, as soon as completed, General Gibbon of the 2nd Corps was to march his division. An hour or so elapsed before his men came into the town, and then he reported to the General, who directed him to move to the right, to try to obtain a position that would command the works directly in front of us. General Gibbon moved his men up, crossed a canal in rear of the town, but found his further progress impeded by a second canal, over which there was no bridge or other means of crossing. The rifle-pits in front of him were also well manned, and his movements unsuccessful, as they were not made without loss. Finding this plan fail, as did also an attempt to make a similar attack on the left, in front of General Howe, commanding our 2nd Division, and for a similar reason, the General finally organized a strong attack at about the centre of the works. In front of this point — which, by the way, can scarcely be called a point, for it was not less than three to four hundred yards in extent — was a slope almost entirely free from obstructions, and therefore completely under the enemy's fire, both of artillery and infantry. Then came a sunken road, lined on each side by a stone wall about four feet high, thus forming a strong and effective covering for the defenders. Beyond this was a short but somewhat steep slope to the crest of the heights, in which were the batteries. All these works were commanded and protected by each other, so that the position was a very strong one. The storming columns were formed, partly in column and partly in line, and ordered to move up at double-quick without firing a shot. Our artillery was ordered to open the hottest kind of a fire the instant our storming party should move. This fire was directed from each flank, and kept up as long as possible with safety to our own men. General Howe was directed to move upon the position in front of him, on the extreme left, in conjunction with the attack at the centre. At last everything was arranged, and the storming party began at a given signal to move from the streets where the different regiments were formed. The artillery opened a tremendous fire. As soon as the head of the columns made their appearance on the long slope, the enemy's fire opened upon them very heavily, both from guns and infantry, and, with the exception of one regiment, the whole force moved on steadily, magnificently, without firing a shot, the men dropping like leaves in autumn. Their approach to the works seemed, from where we stood watching, terribly slow. Every second that the dreadful fire continued diminished the strength of the attacking party by scores. One portion of the force almost seemed to come to a halt just on the edge of the sunken road of which I spoke. It was a very anxious moment; but it was only a moment, for the very next saw our men climbing the steep slope beyond the road, directly in front of the batteries. One single color (that of the 6th Maine) never for one second faltered until the very crest of the heights was gained, and it became a sign of victory and a rallying-point for the men who had met more obstacles in their way. There were only a few of us gathered about the General at this moment, but a cheer, weak as it was, could not be refused. The entire line of the works on those fearful heights was gained. General Howe had watched his opportunity, and carried the rifle-pits and batteries in his front in a very spirited manner. General Gibbon, at the earliest moment, brought his men through the town to our support, following the approach we had made.

The enemy fled in large numbers from his works, leaving many dead and wounded, fifteen pieces of artillery, and a considerable number of small arms. Our loss was, I think, about one thousand. The three rebel regiments which Butterfield told us occupied the position were found to be, upon inquiry of prisoners, five brigades. We captured between three and four hundred men; but of the fifteen guns taken, there were unfortunately but nine sent in. The others were retaken on the following day. This was no fault of the 6th Corps, which, in order to execute the order received to march to join General Hooker, could spare not a man or horse to send in the guns. General Gibbon, whose division remained in the town, should have attended to the matter, and, indeed, if he could have foreseen the events of the following day would, no doubt, have brought in all captured property of any value.

The heights once gained, our force moved on very steadily to a line of hills still higher, and distant about half or three quarters of a mile. Our broken line was reformed, our batteries brought up, and everything prepared to move forward. Our line of march was the plank road leading from Fredericksburg nearly due west to Chancellorsville, where, as Hooker informed the General, we would find the enemy's right flank entirely exposed to our attack. We moved on cautiously, skirmishers well in the advance. The enemy had succeeded in carrying off a couple of guns, by means of which he caused us not a little annoyance. He would take advantage of every good position, which was by no means seldom, to throw a few shells at our advancing column. Then it became necessary to dislodge them, which could be done only by artillery, which had first to be brought into proper position to reply. Artillery cannot march across country as infantry can, prepared at any moment to deliver its fire. All this took time, valuable time. The ground was undulating, and here and there slightly wooded. We went on slowly but carefully, so as not to be drawn into any trap. At last we approached a wood which covered the whole of the ground over which we were to advance. There we met their infantry in force, and there we had a very hard fight. Some of our regiments were broken into the merest fragments. Our approach had been slow enough to allow them, the enemy, to bring up reinforcements from Banks's Ford, distant from our right flank only about a mile, and also from the force in front of Hooker. At all events, wherever it came from, the force was sufficient to check us effectively until night came on. Thus finished Sunday. At daybreak on the morning of Monday the General sent me in to see General Butterfield, to tell him the position we were in, and to try to get communication with General Hooker, then not more than five or six miles distant from us. If we could only crash through, if Hooker would only cooperate with us, all might be well. I heard all Butterfield had to say, and rode on, crossed the river, passed through Fredericksburg, and had gone about half a mile beyond the town when I found a very serious obstacle to my further progress, in the shape of quite a large force of the enemy coming from the southwest directly toward the town, thus placing themselves between the town and the rear of our corps. I was thus prevented from joining the General, and turned back to try to make my way to him by way of Banks's Ford, but getting astray, did not succeed until about eleven at night, so that of the operations of our corps on that day (Monday) I can give you only what I have heard from those who were on the ground. The General had early notice of the movement of the enemy upon his rear, and he quickly made the necessary preparation to meet an attack from that direction. After taking possession of the very heights we had captured, the evident intention of the enemy was to cut the corps off from its only remaining line of retreat, namely, Banks's Ford. For this purpose a very heavy force was led by General Lee in person from the position in front of Hooker around our left, to fall upon what he supposed would be our rear and right flank. But the General had already established a portion of the corps in a new line of battle facing to the rear, and although the attack made by Lee was, according to all the accounts of those who saw it, the most furious of the war, it was most gallantly met and repulsed by a far inferior force.

It has been estimated that the force which Lee brought in this attack was not less than twenty thousand. Even supposing the number to have been no more than twelve to thirteen thousand, it was brought to bear upon very little more than two brigades of ours — not more than six to seven thousand men. This attack took place late in the afternoon, and, like the action of the previous day, was brought to a close by night setting in. During the evening the corps was moved to a position near to the bridges which had been laid at Banks's Ford, and before daylight the whole command had recrossed the river, and the bridges were taken up, the crossing and removal of the bridges being effected under an annoying but harmless artillery fire.

Several men — I heard of two or three — died from mere exhaustion before the corps recrossed the river. The day had been very hot, and the night even was unseasonably warm. It is by no means a pleasant thing for us — of the 6th Corps, I mean—to look back at the results of our short campaign; to think of the will with which the troops went to their work, and the fruitless results. I say fruitless; just look at it. Here we are just where we started from; we have lost nearly five thousand men, and what have we gained? Nothing, surely, in our position. We took about fifteen hundred prisoners and fifteen guns minus six, and we inflicted upon the enemy a loss in killed and wounded certainly not less than that sustained by ourselves; it is estimated by every one as greater, for our artillery made sad havoc in their dense attacking masses on Monday afternoon.

How different everything might, nay, would have been, if we had had the cooperation of even a small part of the immense force with Fighting Joe Hooker! Why did he not keep Lee occupied so that he would not have dared to turn his back to Chancellorsville, to fall upon us? Or if, finding that he had so left him, why did he not know it and act accordingly; fall upon the rear of his column as it came down upon us? What was Hooker there for? To entrench himself, with six corps under his command, and expect and even order one single corps to march right through the enemy, to “crush and destroy,” were the words of his order to the General, “any force which might oppose itself to” our march? Would it not have been quite as reasonable an undertaking for him to have marched with his force to join us, say, upon the heights of Fredericksburg, which we could so easily have held? You never saw a more bitter set of men than we were when we saw the way things were going. I saw General Hooker myself on Monday afternoon. I took considerable trouble to see him, thinking it might be some satisfaction to him to communicate with some staff-officer of the General's; but when I told him of the hard fight the corps had had the previous day, he said, in a very disagreeable way, that he had heard of it, and then added: “There were very few troops in front of you, however.” My reply was very short, and I left him. And now look at the order he issues congratulating the army on its achievements:

"If it [the army] has not accomplished all that was expected, the reasons are well known to the army. It is sufficient to say they were of a character not to be foreseen or prevented by human sagacity or resource.” Indeed, the “reasons” are very well known to the army. And if he had not sufficient sagacity to meet and overcome greater obstacles than he found, the best thing he can do is to resign. He says: “We have taken from the enemy five thousand prisoners captured and brought off seven pieces of artillery,” etc., when the only artillery taken was by our corps, a command so disconnected from him that he wrote to the General: “You are too far for me to direct.” He says nothing of all the artillery which he lost; and the “splendid achievements” of which he boasts in a previous order are as yet quite unknown to us. If he had but left us either one of the two corps — the 1st or 3rd — which were under the General's command when we first began operations, we could have gone through anything. If the rest of the army had fought as this corps did, we should have been in Richmond before this time.

After we returned to our old camps, and the pickets had resumed their old positions on the banks of the river, the rebel pickets called out to ours, saying that none of our army could ever cross that river again except “the fellows who took those heights.”

General Hooker was at first disposed to make this corps the scapegoat for his failure, but he soon found that he stood alone in his estimate of what had really been accomplished by it. The army — so far as we could learn, the whole army — stood to endorse the General, and to uphold him even against Hooker. It has, take it all together, been a magnificent opportunity thrown away — such an one as we can scarcely ever hope to have again. At no time did Hooker have more than one single corps engaged. Two of the corps with him did not fire a shot. Corps commanders begged for permission to attack, but were kept back. Hooker seemed to have just lost his head entirely.

I wish I could tell you of the thousand incidents of our short campaign. One sees so much that it is impossible to remember. In such times one lives on excitement. Eating and drinking is too insignificant a matter to think about. As for sleep, a few minutes thrown in here and there seem to be quite sufficient for the needs of nature, although, of course, such a state of things cannot last many days.

One of our staff, a volunteer aide, Mr. Farrar of Maine, was captured. Lieutenant-Colonel Kent, our Inspector-General, was slightly wounded. These are our only accidents.

I am very respectfully yours,

R. F. Halsted.

SOURCE: George William Curtis, Correspondence of John Sedgwick, Major-General, Volume 2, p. 110-29

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 24, 1864

It is praise not to be pitched into by the Great Peppery: and he is very kind to me. To be sure, I watch him, as one would a big trout on a small hook, and those who don't, catch volleys at all hours! Poor Biddle, for instance, an excellent, bettyish sort of man, with no fragment of tact, when the General is full of anxiety for something that is not going right, is sure to come in, in his stuttering way, with “Ah, aw, hem, aw, General, they are going to pitch camp in a very sandy, bad place, sir; you will not be at all comfortable, and there is a nice grassy —” “Major Bid dle!!!” — and then follows the volley. Sometimes it is very effective to contradict the General, provided you stick to it and are successful. I came in last night, feeling cross and not at all caring for commanders of armies or other great ones of this earth. “Well, Lyman, you're back, are you?” “Yes, sir: I reported that the enemy were moving along our rear, but they got no further than —” “Rear! not at all! they were moving along the front.” “No, sir, they were not, they were moving along our rear.” “What do you mean by that? There is Russell, and there is Ricketts, and here is Wheaton; now of course that's your front.” “Russell isn't in such a position, sir, nor Wheaton either. They face so (dabs with a pencil), so that is our rear and can't be anything else.” Whereupon the good chief graciously said no more. I do not know that he ever said anything pleasant about me except the day after the Wilderness battles, when I heard Hancock say that “Colonel Lyman had been useful to him, the day before.” To which the General replied: “Yes, Lyman is a clearheaded man.” I have heard him volunteer several favorable things about Captain Sanders; also he has remarked that Old Rosey (my tent-mate) was good at finding roads; and that is pretty much all of his praises, whereof no man is more sparing. By the way, old Rosey has his commission as captain. One thing I do not like — it is serious — and that is, that three years of bitter experience have failed to show our home people that, to an army on active campaign (or rather furious campaign), there must be supplied a constant stream of fresh men — by thousands. What do we see? Everyone trying to persuade himself that his town has furnished its “quota.” But where are they? We have large armies, but nothing compared with the paper statements. No! The few produced by drafts in good part run away; so too many of the “volunteers” — miserable fellows bought with money. None are shot — that is unmerciful — but the Powers that Be will let brave, high-toned men, who scorn to shirk their duty, be torn with canister and swept away with musketry, and that is inevitable.

This morning appeared General Grant with two French officers, who since have taken up their quarters with us and mess with us. They are two artillery officers, the elder a Colonel de Chanal, the other a Captain Guzman, both sent as a commission to observe the progress of the campaign. The Colonel is a perfect specimen of an old Frenchman, who has spent most of his life in provincial garrisons, in the study of all sorts of things, from antiquities down to rifled projectiles. He has those extraordinary, nervous legs, which only middle-aged Frenchmen can get, and is full of various anecdotes. Many years he has lived in Toulouse. The other is young and little and looks like a black-eyed and much astonished grasshopper. He is very bright, speaks several languages, and was on the Chinese expedition. General Grant staid some time in council, and took dinner with us. I was amused at him, for, the day being warm, he began taking off his coat before he got to the tent; and by the time he had said, “How are you, Meade?” he was in his shirt-sleeves, in which state he remained till dinner-time. He attempted no foreign conversation with the Gauls, simply observing; “If I could have turned the class the other end to, I should have graduated at West Point, very high in French!”

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 176-8

Lieutenant-Colonel Theodore Lyman to Elizabeth Russell Lyman, June 3, 1864

June 3, 1864

We had very severe fighting this morning, all along the lines. If you look on the map you may follow our lines. The line of battle faced westerly, towards Gaines's Mill and Mechanicsville, with a corps covering the right flank, and the left refused (a wing is “refused” when it is swung back from the direction of the main line). In some sort this was the battle of Gaines's Mill reversed. . . . The Rebel lines were about parallel with ours and they were throwing up dirt as hard as they could. No country could be more favorable for such work. The soldiers easily throw up the dirt so dry and sandy with their tin plates, their hands, bits of board, or canteens split in two, when shovels are scarce; while a few axes, in experienced hands, soon serve to fell plenty of straight pines, that are all ready to be set up, as the inner face of the breastwork. I can't say I heard with any great hope the order, given last night, for a general assault at 4.30 the next morning! You see Wright and Smith took their front line and drove them back Wednesday afternoon. Thursday afternoon was twenty-four, and Friday morning would be thirty-six hours, for them to bring up and entrench their whole army. If we could smash them up, the Chickahominy lay behind them; but I had no more hope of it, after Spotsylvania, than I had of taking Richmond in two days. Half-past four found us at Kelly's, the Headquarters of General Wright; the brave General himself, however, had gone to the front. At that moment the cannon opened, in various directions, and the Rebels replied vigorously. There has been no fight of which I have seen so little as this. The woods were so placed that the sound, even, of the musketry was much kept away, and the fighting, though near us, was completely shut from view. All the warfare for us was an occasional roundshot, or shell, that would come about us from the Rebel batteries. In the direction of the 18th Corps the crash of the musketry was very loud, but elsewhere, scarcely to be noticed.  . . . About five we had a gleam of hope for our success. News came that Barlow had carried their works and taken seventeen guns; and so he did; but it is one thing to get in, another to stay in. His men advanced heroically and went over the breastworks with a rush; but the enemy had reserves massed behind, well knowing that his extreme right was seriously threatened. Before our supports could get up, their forces were down on our men, while a heavy enfilade of canister was kept up from flanking batteries. Barlow was driven out with heavy loss, and succeeded in getting off only about 300 of the prisoners he took. Like good soldiers, however, his men stopped and turned about, close to the works, and there entrenched themselves. At six we got notice that Russell's division could not carry the line in their front. Ricketts, however, on the right of the 6th Corps, got their first line, and so did the 18th Corps on his right; but the 18th people were forced back, and this left Ricketts a good deal exposed to enfilade; but he held on. A singular thing about the whole attack, and one that demonstrated the staunchness of the troops, was, that our men, when the fire was too hot for them to advance and the works too strong, did not retreat as soldiers often do, but lay down where some small ridge offered a little cover, and there staid, at a distance from the enemy varying from forty to perhaps 250 yards. When it was found that the lines could not be carried, General Meade issued orders to hold the advanced position, all along, and to trench. The main fight lasted, I suppose, some three hours, but there was sharp skirmishing and artillery firing the whole day. The Rebels threw canister in large quantities, doing much damage. . . .

In the afternoon came Wright and Hancock, with their Staff officers, to consult with General Meade. They looked as pleasant as if they had been out to dine, instead of standing all day with shells, bullets and canister coming about them; for we now have a set of corps commanders who, in action, go, as they say, where they “can see”; which means sitting calmly in places where many people would be so scared they wouldn't know the left wing from the right. Which reminds me of a ludicrous circumstance — there always is something of the ludicrous mixed in every tragedy. Three or four vulgar and very able-bodied civilians had got down to the army, in some way or other, and were at our standpoint for a little while. Having come from the White House and hearing little musketry, they concluded it would be quite safe to go further to the front. “Come,” said one, in a flippant way, “let's go forward and see the fun.” So off they trotted down the Gaines's Mill road. One of Wright's aides said they came pretty soon, as far as where they were standing. All was quiet, but these braves had hardly dismounted when the Rebel guns again opened and the shells came with fearful precision over the spot! One gentleman, a fat man, rushed wildly to his horse, convulsively clutched the mane and tumbled on the saddle, galloping hotly off. But it so happened that two successive shells, passing with their hideous scream, burst just behind his horse, giving him the wings of panic! The other cit, quite paralyzed, lay down flat behind a ridge; in a few minutes he looked up at a Staff officer and, with the cold sweat rolling off him, exclaimed: “Oh! I wish they would stop! Don't you think, sir, they will stop pretty soon?” What became of the third I know not; but they all “saw the fun.” Not a thing did I have to do till six in the evening, when General Meade told me to go to General Birney, ascertain his position and what he thought of the force in his front; then keep on to Warren and ask him if he could so close in his Corps to the left as to set Birney free to return to the Second Corps. I found General Birney, with his usual thin, Puritanic face, very calmly eating tapioca pudding as a finish to his frugal dinner. He remarked drily that his man had selected that hollow as particularly safe; but, as half a dozen shells had already plumped in there, he did not exactly believe the theory a good one. I had a great mess finding General Warren.¹ First I went, by the road leading through the woods, to Bethesda Church. There were his aides and his flag: but the General had “ridden out along the lines” — confound that expression! That is the luck of a Headquarters aide. You say: “Is the General here?” “No, sir, he has gone, I believe, along the line.” “Do you know where?” “Well, Colonel, he did not say exactly; but, if you will follow down the breastworks, I think you will find him.” (Delightful vision of a line of two miles or so of breastworks with the infantry safely crouched behind, and you perched on a horse, riding down, taking the chance of stray shot, canister, and minié balls, looking for a general who probably is not there.) The greatest piece of coolness is when you are advised to make a short cut by the picket line! . . .

Warren looks care-worn. Some people say he is a selfish man, but he is certainly the most tender-hearted of our commanders. Almost all officers grow soon callous in the service; not unfeeling, only accustomed, and unaffected by the suffering they see. But Warren feels it a great deal, and that and the responsibility, and many things of course not going to suit him, all tend to make him haggard. He said: “For thirty days now, it has been one funeral procession, past me; and it is too much! To-day I saw a man burying a comrade, and, within half an hour, he himself was brought in and buried beside him. The men need some rest.”. . .

At nine at night the enemy made a fierce attack on a part of Gibbon's division, and, for a time, the volleys of musketry and the booming of the cannon were louder, in the still night, than the battle had been by day. But that sort of thing has not done with the Rebels, since the brilliant attack of Johnson, the second night of the Wilderness. This time they were repulsed completely. It was then that our men called out: “Come on! Come on! Bring up some more Johnnies! You haven't got enough!” . . .

To-night all the trenching tools were ordered up and the lines were strengthened, and saps run out, so as to bring them still closer to the opposing ones. And there the two armies slept, almost within an easy stone-throw of each other; and the separating space ploughed by cannon-shot and clotted with the dead bodies that neither side dared to bury! I think nothing can give a greater idea of deathless tenacity of purpose, than the picture of these two hosts, after a bloody and nearly continuous struggle of thirty days, thus lying down to sleep, with their heads almost on each other's throats! Possibly it has no parallel in history. So ended the great attack at Cool Arbor. The losses were far greater for us than for the Rebels. From what I can gather I doubt not we lost four or five to one. We gained nothing save a knowledge of their position and the proof of the unflinching bravery of our soldiers.²

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¹ “This was Warren's great way, to go about, looking thus after details and making ingenious plans; but it kept him from generalities, and made it hard to find him, so that he finally came to trouble as much by this as by anything else.” —Lyman's Journal.

² “I do think there has been too much assaulting, this campaign! After our lessons of failure and of success at Spotsylvania, we assault here, after the enemy had had thirty-six hours to entrench, and that time will cover them over their heads and give them slashings and traverses besides! The best officers and men are liable, by their greater gallantry, to be first disabled; and, of those that are left, the best become demoralized by the failures, and the loss of good leaders; so that, very soon, the men will no longer charge entrenchments and will only go forward when driven by their officers.” — Lyman's Journal.

SOURCE: George R. Agassiz, Editor, Meade’s Headquarters, 1863-1865: Letters of Colonel Theodore Lyman from the Wilderness to Appomattox, p. 143-8