Officers of the 1st Louisiana Infantry (USA)

In active service during the Siege of Port Hudson

FIELD AND STAFF

Colonel — Richard E. Holcomb of Connecticut. Killed in action June 14, 1863. William O. Fisk of Massachusett. Promoted to Colonel, June 15, 1863.

Major — Charles H. Grosvenor of Ohio.

First Surgeon — Seth C. Gordon of Maine.

Second Assistant Surgeon — Richard H. Meserve of Maine.

Quartermaster — James A. Leonard of Mass.

Chaplain — Samuel M. Kingston of Ireland.

Captains — William George of Denmark. Frances Felton of Prussia, Alonzo W. Persons of Massachusetts; Henry G. Ingham of Pennsylvania; Charles May of Saxony; George Shemenauer of Baden, Germany; George A. Mayne of Vermont; James T. Jenner of England; John R. Parsons of Massachusetts.

First Lieutenants—James T. Smith, of Ireland; Thomas L. Scott of Massachusetts; Marcena C. S. Gray of Maine; Martin V. B. Hill of Massachusetts; Rudolph Krause of Hanover; Henry T. Carter of Maine.

Second Lieutenants — George M. Severy of Maine; Devereux E. Jones of Canada; George G. Smith of Vermont; Charles S. Leonard of Massachusetts; Adolph Charpenter of France; John Kline of Germany; James M. Gardner of Scotland; Richard Byrne of Ireland; John Kearney of Ireland; Michael H. Dunne of Ireland.

Commissioned Officers of Co C. First Louisiana Regt Infty Vols.

Captain — Francis Felton.

First Lieutenant — Thomas L. Scott.

Second Lieutenant  — George G. Smith.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 147

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant George G. Smith: December 22, 1864

Arrived at Port Hudson. Went ashore; but the place did not look much as it did during the siege — the works were narrowed up. I recognized the spot where the mortar battery stood, and where the gallant First Platoon of Co. E, First Louisiana, charged up the bluff of Thompson's creek, and drove the rebels behind their breast-works, half an hour in advance of the rest of the line of skirmishers, on May 27, 1863. I saw the terrible Lady Davis that used to salute us every evening with her mighty shells that never exploded or hit anybody. It was a 10-inch gun, mounted en barbette in a bastion, on a pivot, so it commanded the entire horizon. The soldiers got wonderful ideas of that gun. They said it was mounted on a platform car, and they had a track so as to run it down to the breast-works every night and fire it. We could distinguish the point where we charged on June 14th, when we got so horribly cut up. I wanted to go to these spots, but there was not time. Arrived at Donaldsonville at 9 p. m., and encamped on the old drill ground.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 142-3

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant George G. Smith: March 28, 1864

After tying up to the bank all night for fear of sharp shooters along the shore in the woods; we passed Fort De Russey at Snaggy Point. This fort had the honor of being taken twice by our gun boats: the first time by Commander Farragut before the seige of Port Hudson, about May 1, 1863 and a few days before this, Snaggy Point is at a sharp bend in the river which is very shallow in low water on account of sunken logs in the stream. It has special advantages as a location for a fort mainly from the fact that it commands a view of the river for a long distance above and below. It was here we had such an interesting time going up the river in July of 1860 when I was on my way to Texas. We were on a small stern wheel boat named the “News Boy” with a cargo of grain. We were two days getting round this point. They unloaded the grain into lighters and snaked the boat over the logs by hitching to trees and winding the rope round the capstan. I never dreamed of seeing a fort here at that time but strange things happen in this world sometimes. Arrived at Alexandria at four p. m. and encamped on the same ground we did the year before, on the Rapides Bayou. The falls in the Red River at this place will not admit of navigation more than six months in the year and the river had begun falling at this early date in March so that the gun boats had difficulty in getting up over the falls and a noble large transport loaded with army stores and general merchandise was already hopelessly stranded on the rocks: so we had to witness the painful sight of her going up in smoke and flame with all her valuable cargo. When I went up that river in July of sixty alluded to before, there was hardly water enough going over these same falls to drive a saw mill, let alone floating all the United States Navy in the Western waters: and General Banks had it there at that time, all above the tails and as the sequel will show it cost us no little trouble to get the boats down again. We were here brigaded with the one hundred and fifty-ninth and ninetieth New Ycrk and the thirteenth Connecticut Volunteers, General Grover's Division.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 92-4

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 8, 1863

At 8 a. m., we were on the march for Port Hudson. Five miles on the way, an officer met us informing us that Port Hudson had surrendered and read an order from General Banks remanding us back to Donaldsonville. We cheered of course, but our joy was to full and deep to find vent in that way. We were now in sight of the frowning hights of Port Hudson. The stars and stripes were streaming from the flag pole in the fort. But all was silent. The gun boats and mortar fleet lay sleeping peacefully on the bosom of the broad river and all was silent as a Sabbath morn. The Sallie Robinson came up and took us on board and her prow was turned down stream. Remaining over night at Baton Rouge at 2 p. m. the First Louisiana was again in Donaldsonville. A swarm of bees came across the river and pitched on the flag pole in the fort. Next day Augar's division of the nineteenth corps arrived from Port Hudson on transports. Our troops took formal possession of that place on the morning of the ninth.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 87-8

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 7, 1863

This was the gloomest day to me I remember since the war begun. But it need not have been so, bad I known the true condition of affairs. As I saw it then the situation was as follows. General Banks had been besieging Port Hudson about six weeks with no better prospect so far as I could see of taking it than when the siege first begun and so far as I knew Vicksburg was in about the same condition. Besides a large army from Texas and Arkansas had occupied all the territory in Western Louisiana and the Red river we had conquered, planted their batteries on the Mississippi river ten miles below cutting off communication with New Orleans and were besieging Fort Butler at Donaldson, threatening to cross the river and attact Banks in rear of Port Hudson. No wonder I felt blue. A steamboat came from Baton Rouge for the four companies of the First Louisiana and they were on board at 10 a. m. We had proceeded about six miles up the river, when we received a volley of musketry from the shore. There was a small six pound mountain Howetzer on the cabin deck with which we opened on them with shells, besides a lively play of musketry. A shell happened to burst inside a house where they had taken refuge and they were last seen fleeing to the cornfields in the rear. Off against, Plaquimine, an ocean steamer, the St. Mary passed and hailed us but we did not understand what she said. She was at Baton Rouge when we arrived. We asked them what they had tried to tell us and they replied “Vicksburg had fallen.” Helo: this was a bright beam of light let in through the dark clouds of our hopes. The soldiers sent up cheer after cheer in the exurberance of their joy. But some felt that it was too good to be true. On arriving at Springfield Landing the news was confirmed. Staid here all night.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 85-7

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: July 5, 1863

Major Bullin shot by a drunken soldier by the name of Scot, who was sent to New Orleans, tried by a court marshal and hung.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 85

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 28, 1863

First Louisiana ordered to Donaldsonville. Went in wagons by way of Springfield Landing, 18 miles below Port Hudson, where we went on board the Iberville at 10 p. m. Next morning, at daylight, arrived at Fort Butler. Rumor of a fight here had reached us, but we were not fully aware of the magnitude of the conflict until now. Port Barro, a little cluster of houses on the same side of the bayou with the fort, had been nearly all burned, and some of the houses in Donaldson were burning. The First Louisiana disembarked and went into the fort. New made graves were seen along the levee and the slope of the parapet towards the river was completely covered with a gore of blood.

We learned that at 2 o'clock on the morning of the 28th, a force of Texas rebels under General Morton, 5,000 strong, had attacked the fort. The garrison in the fort consisted of a detachment from the 28th Maine, commanded by Major Bullen and a few convalescents from the hospital, belonging to the First Louisiana; in all about 183 efficient men. Six heavy 24-pound siege guns were mounted on the parapet, and the Essex lay in the river. This was our force and armament. The plan of attack was this: A force was to make a feint upon the main entrance by the side of the bayou, while a storming party of 500 picked men were to steal down behind the levee, under cover of darkness, wade around the stockade in the river, and scale the parapet on the river side, where there was no moat. By some mistake the storming party arrived first, and while some were wading around the stockade, others tried to cut an opening in it with axes. This alarmed the garrison, and in an instant the parapet was bristling with bayonets. Then commenced “some savage biting.” For three long mortal hours did this little heroic band withstand the assault of three times their number in a hand-to-hand conflict with only a bank of earth six feet wide and as high as a man's breast to separate them. Charge after charge was made by the rebels, yelling as only Texans know how to yell, but each was met by a volley that sent the maddened desperate adventurers hurling back down the parapet with mortal wounds. Some tried to creep over, but these were met by the bayonets. They then resorted to throwing bricks, but all of no avail. _ One desperate fellow mounted the gate in the stockade with a lantern, and tried to open it inside. He fell pierced with many bullets. In the meantime, while this was going on, the main force had arrived and the fort was besieged on all sides. The heavy guns then opened their black throats and vomited forth death and swift destruction, while two gunboats, lying up the river, hearing the conflict, rushed to the scene of action under full steam, and rounding the bend above the fort, opened broadside after broadside, of shot and shell, in the midst of the enemy. It was then that death and destruction reigned supreme, and the Death Angel flapped her broad wings amid the glare of bursting bombs and the terrible flashes of the deep-mouthed cannon. The horrified rebels retreated in dismay and confusion, while the death-dealing missiles pursued them for miles, and strewed the country with the slain.

The story of that terrible night is now soon told. At early dawn the Essex spied the few hundred rebels who had crept behind the stockade between the parapet and the river. They immediately opened a broadside of grape and canister. A flag of truce was raised, and they were prisoners of war.

This ended one of the most bloody conflicts of the war, according to numbers. But the loss was nearly all on one side. The enemy lost 1,000 men in killed and taken prisoners. Our loss was six killed and 11 wounded.

It was my original intention not to relate anything but what I saw with my own eyes or participated in personally. I have, however, departed somewhat from that purpose, but not without the best of evidence either from eye-witnesses or participants themselves. In relating the foregoing account of the attack on Fort Butler, the language may seem overdrawn, but if it is, it was not my intention to have it so. I had the best of opportunities to obtain the facts, and I can conscientiously say that I have related them truly and faithfully as they were told me.

Companies F, C and E of the First Louisiana remained at the fort, and the remainder of the regiment was ordered back to Port Hudson. At night I was detailed as officer of the picket guard. Houses were burning all night, but all was quiet so far as the enemy was concerned. But at noon of the next day the advanced mounted videttes came rushing in seemingly in a terrible fright, reporting that a large force of rebel cavalry was close at hand and approaching rapidly. At the time I was with the reserve at the post on the river road above the fort. There was a bend in the levee and the road above this station, which shut out from view everything beyond. Consequently the cavalry would be upon us before we could see them. So, of course, we must retreat or be captured I chose the former. An orderly met us with a message from the commander of the fort, ordering us to hasten so the guns could sweep the road. When we came in sight, the men were at the guns and the garrison was ready to fight. No enemy appeared however, and we returned to our positions. At about 4 o'clock p. m. a mulatto girl came down from a plantation above and stated that a large force of cavalry came there at about noon to see how many gun boats were at the fort, stating that they intended to attack us again at night. Relieved at sundown.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 80-5

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 22, 1863

Back to our camping ground again. Major W. O. Fisk returned from New Orleans and took command of the regiment in place of Col. Holcomb, who was killed May 14th. Major Fisk was wounded in the fight at Franklin, April 12th, and had been in the hospital ever since that time.

My position as acting-lieutenant admitted me to the society of the commissioned officers of our regiment. I cannot say that I can point to a period of greater enjoyment, than the four weeks spent before Port Hudson. Several causes combined to bring this about. The principal one, perhaps, was the consciousness that my name had gone in from the battle field “recommended for promotion.” This was more satisfactory to me than if I had been recommended for meritorious conduct on “dress parade.” And then, too, the beauty of the scenery: the deep foliage of the gigantic Magnolia and birch trees, whose broad branches shut out the rays of a burning sun, and the immense blossoms of the former, loaded with their fragrance, the gentle breezes which stole through the trees. This naturally inspired a corresponding spirit of romance and poetry among the officers and men; so we made the forest vocal with patriotic songs and pleasant ballads touching our dear old homes and the loved ones in dear old New England. But the Magnolia leaves dropped and the flowers faded. So, too, we must pass away.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 78-9

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 21, 1863

Our brigade, under Gen. Morgan, with three batteries and a cavalry force under Col. Grierson, went out on the Jackson road in pursuit of some guerillas under Chief Logan. Did not get them — horses too fleet.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 78

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 20, 1863

Moved back to our old quarters in rear of the batteries.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 78

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Sunday, June 18, 1863

First Louisiana went out twenty miles to guard a wagon train to get cotton; got 75 bales and several loads of corn.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 78

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: Sunday, June 14, 1863

We have now arrived through the vicissitudes and chances of this siege, to another day that will ever be memorable, not for the amount of good or for important victories gained on that day, but for reasons quite the contrary. It will be remembered by the actors in that drama for the desperate encounters of a “forlorn hope,” and for the terrible and useless slaughter of human lives. At 12 o'clock midnight, we were ordered in line of battle. The night was dark, but the soldiers groped their way through the forest, two miles and a half, towards the left. Here we found eight or ten regiments ready to move. But before we did so it had begun to be daylight. We passed over a bridge, across Thompson's creek, up the bluff, and halted. A line of skirmishers had been sent out to drive in the enemy's pickets, so that the infantry could pass through the trenches without annoyance or discovery. But while we were waiting for this the enemy opened on us from the fortress with heavy guns, firing every conceivable thing they could get into them — pieces of railroad iron, old horseshoes, nails, spikes, etc.—but they flew harmlessly over our heads. A bullet flew uncomfortably near me and wounded a man directly in my rear. It hit his leg, and I heard the bones crash.

But the order soon came to march. A road had been cut through the fallen timber for about half a mile. It wound among the hills in such a manner that no part of it was exposed to the fire from the fort. This was continued up to within two or three hundred yards of the works. The terminus was protected by a pile of cotton bales. To the left and running parallel to the enemy's breastworks, was a line of hills. We filed to the left and formed in line of battle behind these. During the whole of this time I was ignorant and so was everyone else around me, of what we were about to do. There was a vague notion, however, that there was to be a charge somewhere on the enemy's works. Whoever planned these defences seemed to have understood his business. The timber was cut back three-fourths of a mile from the embankments, tree tops interlacing with each other formed almost an impregnable barrier. Between us and the fortification was the hill or ridge of land, behind which the line of battle was formed, and a hollow between this and the fort. This last was full of deep gullies and fallen timber, rendering it almost impassable. Colonel Holcomb was acting Brigadier General that day. He was a brave man and a good officer. Our bayonets were fixed, and the Colonel gave the command, “Forward! double quick, march.” The first Louisiana gave a yell, and up the hill they went. But no sooner had they come in range of the guns on the breastworks than they were met by one of the most withering fires ever seen by mortal man. In crossing a level piece of ground on the top of the hill I cast my eye around and saw that almost every man had fallen. I halted, and thought, “Well, what does this mean? I do not believe I can take Port Hudson alone and guess I'll fall down too.” There was a white oak tree about a foot through lying on the ground in front of me, so I pitched down, and laid on my face as close to the log as I could get. And I did not get down any too soon, for the bullets began to come, cutting the bark on the top of the log, and striking the ground two or three feet beyond me, but they could not hit me; so I lay there until they got through firing. I then ventured to lift my head to see what was going on, as I supposed Colonel Holcomb would give the command to go forward again. The ground was covered with men as far as I could see, and it seemed as though it was a half a mile. Soon after falling down behind the log, I heard Col. Holcomb say, “13th Connecticut, why don't you move forward?” The 13th gave a faint yell, and came up the hill sharing the same fate as the First Louisiana did. They were on our left. Those were the last words I heard the Colonel speak. After looking as long as I dared, I laid my head down again behind the log: but the rebels had seen me, and began firing again, so I laid still till they got through, and then I gave another look. The men lay there just as they were when I looked before. I thought, “why don't they crawl down the hill and get out of the range of the rebel's guns?” I looked once more and the truth flashed on my mind, that they were all dead or wounded, and they could not get away.

The sun was awful hot, and I had played “hide and go seek” long enough with “my friends the enemy;” besides, I did not see any further prospect of taking Port Hudson that day, so I thought I might as well get out. In coming up the hill I noticed a deep gully on the right, with two logs across it. A young soldier, in a sargeant's uniform, stepped up on the logs, and was crossing, but all at once he stopped, turned round, and fell on his face. He lay there until we got by. Now I thought that would be a good place to get into out of the way of the sun and rebel bullets. So I crawled down the hill, keeping the log between me and my friends until out of the reach of the guns of the fort and got into the gully. The boy still lay there sleeping his last sleep, and I presume his mother never found out where he was. I found Lieut. Gardner in the gully with three or four more of Co. E, First Louisiana. It was quite cool and comfortable there, but the canteens were all empty and no water to be had. The wounded must have suffered terrible agonies lying there in the hot sun. If they stirred a hand or foot the rebels would shoot at them. The groans were something awful. “And there shall be the weeping,” came forcibly to me. It was sure death to undertake to bring one away.

We laid in the gully until 3 o'clock when Lieut. Gardner requested me to go to the rear and gather up the stragglers and bring them back to the gully, as we supposed we were to remain there over night. I thought it prudent to move as fast as convenient, for no sooner had I emerged from the cover than the bullets commenced to fly as thick as bees about a hive on a hot summer's day. I made some pretty long strides down the hill, and was soon out of harm's way. On the way to the bridge I found several of my company and took them along with me. I found the company's cook at the bridge with hot coffee, hard bread, and boiled salt junk. This was a source of rejoicing to the physical man; for the contents of my haversack and canteen of water, brought out at midnight, had been shared at early dawn with my less considerate comrades, and I had not seen food and but little water since that time. I dispatched some men with food to the men on the battle ground. While discussing my coffee I learned that Col. Halcomb, Lieut. Hill, of Co. H, and several other officers and men with whom I had been on terms of intimacy for months past, had been killed. Colonel Halcomb and Lieut. Hill fell nearly at the same time, — the former killed outright and the latter mortally wounded. The Colonel met his death at the moment he ordered the 13th forward, and the words I heard, as related above, were about the last he ever spoke He was struck twice, once in the breast and in the second the ball passed through the brain. This last, of course, was fatal; and I was told by those near him when he was killed, that as soon as the ball struck him he threw up his hand exclaiming, “Oh, G—” (the power of utterance ceasing before the words were articulated) and fell. His body was taken from the field and sent to his family in Connecticut. Lieut. Hill was wounded in the breast and died several weeks later in the hospital at New Orleans. On the way through the woods in the morning his manner was singular. He conversed with me much, and it was about his people at home, and it was of a melancholy nature. He was a brave officer and everybody loved him.

The news I learned that night was sad indeed. We dispatched our supper as soon as possible and started on the return. We had not gone far, however, when we met some men of our regiment who reported that the troops were all coming out. On hearing this we halted by the roadside, and soon Major Grosvenor appeared at the head of all that remained of the First Louisiana. We fell in and marched back to the bridge. Here we compared notes, and while some were lamenting the noble slain others were rejoicing that some were left alive. The night was dark, and Lieut. Jenner and I sat on the ground talking over the events of the day. We did not observe that our companies had gone, but they had, so we started in pursuit, but so many paths led through the woods that we soon discovered that we were lost — lost in the woods in face of a mortal foe, in the night. “All right, let it be so. But I'll tell you what I am going to do. I am going to camp right here. If we wander around here in the dark we will run on to the rebel pickets, and fetch up in Andersonville prison.” Lieut. Jenner agreed I was right. So, happening to be under a large Magnolia tree, I selected a big root for a pillow, and we went to bed. I believe I exchanged the root for my canteen during the night, otherwise the night passed without any molestation.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 69-77

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 13, 1863

General Banks sent a flag of truce to General Gardner demanding a surrender of the place, but the rebel General could not see the necessity of surrendering at that time.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 69

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 10, 1863

At night, while the First Louisiana was sleeping, a charge was being made on the right and left of the rebel line at the same instant. The one on the right was made by the 90th and 191st New York and the 22nd Maine regiments. It was directly in front of our position. The troops undertook to creep through a ravine, full of fallen timber, in the darkness: but they were discovered by the rebels, who poured such a deadly fire into the fallen timber that the attempt had to be abandoned. Some of the soldiers crept into holes and remained there all day, and escaped in the night. Others crept back the same night to camp, but a few lay dead and wounded on the field. The charge on the left ended about the same way.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 68-9

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 8, 1863

Guns all in position — one 10-inch mortar, three 8-inch mortars, one a 32 pound Parrot rifle, and two brass field pieces. These guns occupied about half a mile in the line. Other guns were interspersed along the line, but of these I know but little. The mortar firing was grand in the extreme, notably the 10-inch one. The gun is fixed permanently with an elevation of 45 degrees. The shell is seen as soon as it leaves the gun on account of the burning fuze. It mounts, and mounts, until it seems to be among the stars, it then ranges along like a meteor until it begins to describe the other half of the parabola. It then descends to the ground, burying itself many feet in the earth and explodes with a deep muffled roar, sending dirt and stones many feet in the air.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 68

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: June 1, 1863

First Louisiana relieved by the 8th Vermont Infantry. After dark it fell back to the rear about half a mile, into a ravine. The rebels shelled us tremendously all night, but did us no harm. Our business here proved to be to protect a mortar battery that was to be planted on high ground in front of us. Guard duty coming only once a week, eating and sleeping turned out to be our chief occupation. The trees in that camp were mostly large Magnolias, and being in full bloom at this time of year, the air was loaded with their fragrance.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 67

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 30, 1863

Shooting at each other had begun to be regarded more as a pastime than otherwise, but the enemy did not seem to regard it in that light, and had come to be quite shy, so that our men could hardly get a mark to shoot at, but when they did, five or six bullets would fly at it, and it would be strange indeed if all of them missed. Today one of our shells dismounted a rebel gun.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 67

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 27, 1863

Early in the morning before sunrise the First Louisiana was ordered into line of battle. Companies B, H, and E, were ordered “as skirmishers.” My company was well posted in the skirmish drill, and I had no fear about them. A dense forest in which was hidden a powerful foe lay between us and his strong fortification, the fearful nature of whose armament we had already been made sensible by the destructive missiles he had previously hurled crashing through the trees at us. But not much time was allowed for these reflections. We were quickly deployed, and Lieutenant Gardner being in command of Company E gave the command of the first platoon to me, and the second to Lieutenant Koblin. Colonel Holcomb was acting Brigadier General and he quickly gave the command “Forward.” Flushed as we were with success, having been continually seeing the enemy fleeing before us for the last two months whenever we came up with them, victory had come to be almost a matter of course with us. So the boys expected a real “picnic,” and it may as well be said that they got it before the day was over. We had not proceeded more than two hundred yards before the grey coats of our enemies appeared among the trees, and they made their presence further known by a shower of bullets. The men returned the fire with interest and a sharp fight was kept up for a few minutes when the rebs gave way. I ordered the men to move forward as rapidly as possible, and not halt to load, but to load and fire as they marched. They had practiced this on the drill ground and knew how. In the excitement of the moment we entirely overlooked the necessity of keeping in line with the rest of the skirmishers and we soon found ourselves alone with one platoon of soldiers. The woods were so dense I could not see the length of my platoon. I was afraid to be in the rear for the danger of firing into them, and if we were forward of them they would fire into us. I could see no remedy, so we kept on our way, loading and firing into the bushes ahead as rapidly as possible, I could hear the stentorian voice of Colonel Holcomb as he gave the command, “Forward on the right!”

This I expected was intended for Company H as I feared they were in my rear: So I reiterated the command and kept up a continual fire into the woods in front. I think when I reiterated the command to “Forward on the right” it drew the fire of the whole rebel picket line on us, immediately in our front. But our fire soon silenced them and they disappeared entirely. This gave us a clear passage so far as the rebels were concerned. But we kept up the fire and pushed forward as fast as the nature of the ground would admit. We continued our course in this way for about a mile and a half, when we arrived at a small creek known as Thompsons creek, crossing this, we ascended a steep bluff. About half way up I halted the skirmishers and myself and another sergeant crept to the top to reconnoiter. About two hundred yards from the top of the bluff across an old cotton field was the rebel breast works. To the right was a deep basin of about seventy-five acres of felled timber commanded by a battery of two guns. Everything was silent and scarcely a man was to be seen, I believed the enemy was concealed behind the breastworks and did not deem it prudent to approach any nearer until support arrived. I told the sergeant next in rank to remain there and I would see if I could find any of the rest of the skirmishers. At the foot of the bluff I found Colonel Holcomb sitting on the bank wounded and Captain George, Company F, near by in command of the reserve. The Colonel said to me, “Sergeant where are your skirmishers?” I saluted him and said “Colonel they are up there (pointing up the bluff). We are in front of the rebel breast works and cannot go further until we have reinforcements.” He said, “I am wounded and cannot go further. A piece of shell struck me on the hip and I am disabled. But you go and tell Captain Parsons to charge on that gun that is firing down on us and take it.” “Very well,” I said, I went out to the right in the direction Captain Parson ought to be but could find nothing of him. I did not look long, and returned to report to the Colonel. But he had gone to the rear. I then returned to my command. I found the remainder of the line of skirmishers had arrived and taken up their positions along the bluff. We had not been there long when the enemy seeing we were not going to make a charge, opened upon us with a terriffic volley of grape canister and musketry splitting the limbs of the trees above our heads into splinters. I had my men stationed in a gully cut out from the side of the bluff by the action of the water, so that the fire of the enemy could not reach us. One poor fellow carelessly exposed himself and was shot through the brain and fell at my feet. I looked down at him. He gasped once, and was dead. His comrades took him away. The firing ceased and I looked round and discovered we were alone. I said to the men, “What does this mean?” One of them said somebody started a report that the rebels had come out from their works and were flanking us.” I said it was all nonsense. “The rebels dare not come out from there works; and we will hold the position until we are compelled to leave it. It has cost us too much hard fighting to abandon it.” So I said to one of the men, “How many cartridges have you got?” “One,” he replied, “besides the one in my gun.” I asked another, and he said, “Four.” This I found was the average number among the men. I said to them, “This is a bad state of things, but I think we can deceive them for a while at any rate.” I told them that there was no possible danger of being captured if we only kept a good lookout so that they could not surprise us. I told them further to fire occasionally when a good mark presented itself, so as to keep the enemy informed that we were there. I then went around to the right of where Company H was posted and found Captain Parsons of Company I and Lieutenant Jenner of Company D with their commands. I told them of my condition and that we were out of ammunition. Lieutenant Jenner generously gave me a few packages of cartridges and I returned to our heroic little band, after promising Captain Parsons and Lieutenant Jenner that I would hold the position to the last extremity. The sight of the cartridges inspired the men, and whenever a mark presented itself it was attended to. The retreat happened at about 12 m. We held the position until 2 p. m., when they returned. Company H, B, and the second platoon of Company E retreated. They had been back to our starting point in the morning. They all felt chagrined that they had retreated so rashly, the officers in particular. One said, “Sergeant Smith, where have you been?” I replied that I had been right there all the time. He said, “You have not.” I replied that I had, and appealed to the men of my command to prove my statement. He became convinced, and said, “Well, by G—d, I would give a thousand dollars to be in your boots.” I did not know before that I was doing anything more than my duty. They brought a supply of ammunition, and I believe some grub, but I don't quite remember about the last. At 5 p. m. a flag of truce was displayed from the breastworks of the enemy. A tremendous cheering was heard all along the line, and contending parties of both sides laid aside their arms and rushed out to see each other as though they had been friends long parted. Two officers met, the flag of truce was found to be a mistake, the two disappointed armies retired behind their breastworks, and the firing begun again. But the truce showed me that I was right in my calculation that there was a large force behind the breastworks in front of us, where we charged up the bluff; for no sooner was the truce proclaimed than the rebel soldiers swarmed out on the parapet like ants on an ant hill. If all the forces in that immediate vicinity had combined and attempted to charge across that plateau, there was force enough there to have swept it away like chaff from the summer threshing floor, or ever they could possibly reach the breastworks. I have thought sometimes that it was a blessing in disguise that Colonel Holcomb was disabled on that morning, or that I failed to find Captain Parsons to deliver his message.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 58-66

Diary of Sergeant George G. Smith: May 25, 1863

[In the morning] we marched three miles further round towards the enemy's right, in the rear of some woods where the 91st New York deployed as skirmishers, and the First Louisiana fell into line as a reserve. The skirmishers had penetrated the woods but a short distance when they encountered the enemy's pickets and a sharp engagement was commenced, but the enemy soon gave way before advancing skirmishers. After pursuing them about half a mile, they obtained our range with three heavy guns from their works and we were obliged to fall back to their old encampment. We were not yet out of range, but the ground falling off in the opposite direction, his shot and shells flew harmlessly, hissing over our heads. After dark a serious catasttrophe happened on our left. The 31st Massachusetts stationed there mistook the 91st N. Y. on picket guard for the enemy, and fired into them. It cost the life of a captain of the 31st Massachusetts, but none of the 91st New York was injured.

The union line of investment was said to be seven miles long, from the river above Port Hudson to the river below. General Banks had most all the forces in the Department of the Gulf there; and were all stationed ready to invest the works preparatory to an assault. One in my position could not of course be expected to know much more than what was transacted directly under his own observation, so that those who desire a more extended view of the operations of the army during this siege must consult those who had better opportunities for observation than the writer of these pages.

SOURCE: Abstracted from George G. Smith, Leaves from a Soldier's Diary, p. 56-8

Diary of 4th Sergeant John S. Morgan: Monday, July 13, 1863

Officially reported that Port Hudson has fallen and the great Mississippi is ours

SOURCE: “Diary of John S. Morgan, Company G, 33rd Iowa Infantry,” Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 13, No. 7, January 1923, p. 493