Nurse and Spy in the Union Army

The enemy had by this time succeeded in driving the Federals from their first position, and were now between them and me. Turning off from the main road, I struck out into the woods and rode as fast as possible. The woods were open and clear so that I could see a long way ahead. On I went until I came near a little thicket so dense that I could not see anything beyond its border. Not daring to go into any place which looked suspicious, I turned to go round it, when my ear caught the click, click of a dozen rifles, and a shower of Minnie balls came round me thick as hailstones, but not one of them pierced even my clothing. My colt took fright at this unexpected salute, and plunged into the woods in another direction with the speed of lightning.

I soon came to an open field and saw in the distance a large number of soldiers. One glance convinced me that they were Federals, for they wore United States uniform. Bounding over the field in an instant I had come within a hundred yards of them before I noticed that they were prisoners, guarded by a band of rebels. The first thing that caused me to discover this fact was one of the prisoners waving his hand for me to go in another direction, upon seeing which one of the rebel guards sprang forward and struck the prisoner with the butt of his musket.

This little demonstration revealed to me at once my position, and turning I fled in the direction indicated by the prisoner, when another volley followed me which proved as harmless as the first. I began now to think that I was about as safe inside the rebel lines as anywhere, for their bullets seemed quite harmless so far as I was personally concerned. I remembered that when I was a child, I heard my mother once tell a Scotch Presbyterian clergyman she was afraid I would meet with some violent death, for I was always in some unheard of mischief, such as riding the wildest colt on the farm, firing off my father’s shot-gun, and climbing to the highest point of the buildings. To which the good old predestinarian replied: “Ah weel, my guid woman, dinna fret; it is an auld saying, an’ I believe a true one, ‘A wean that’s born to be hung ’ill ne’er be droon’d.’” Then turning to me and laying his hand on my head, he said: “But, me wee lassie, ye mauna tempt Providence wi’ your madcap antics, or ye may no live oot half your days.” I did not know after all but that the fates were reserving me for a more exalted death on the scaffold at Richmond – for the old minister’s words would occasionally ring in my ears: “If the wean is born to be hung it will ne’er be droon’d” – and, I added, or be shot either. I was now outside of the rebel lines, but I was just between two fires, and tremendous hot ones at that, for the whole lines were a perfect blaze both of musketry and artillery. Nothing but the power of the Almighty could have shielded me from such a storm of shot and shell, and brought me through unscathed. It seems to me now that it was almost as much of a miracle as that of the three Hebrew children coming forth from the fiery furnace without even the smell of fire upon them.

CHAPTER XVII

When I reached the main army the troops had gained a new position, and were driving the enemy back. The troops were well nigh exhausted, yet fighting bravely and determinedly. Night came and put an end to that day’s battle, but instead of spending the night in taking care of our poor wounded men, we were obliged to retreat, under cover of darkness, to Malvern Hill, and leave our wounded in the hands of the enemy.

Of the many who died from exhaustion, as well as wounds, during our retreat from the vicinity of Richmond, I know of none more worthy of record than that of a young man of my acquaintance who died on the field the night after this battle. He was not wounded, but died at his post from sheer exhaustion. In the course of the evening, I had seen and offered him some brandy from my flask, which I had for the wounded. He was then scarcely able to stand on his feet, yet he refused to take the brandy, saying, “that others needed it more than he did; and besides,” said he, “I never take any intoxicating liquor under any circumstances.”

A notice of his death by an eye-witness, given under the heading, “the Soldier’s Last Watch,” says: “A lonely grave, a little apart from others, stands on the ground of one of the battles fought in the retreat from Richmond, in the summer of 1862, which bears on its wooden head-board simply the name, Trowbridge.

“The turf covers the remains of a youthful soldier who was not only brave and patient, but exemplary as a christian. Those battles renewed from day to day, and attended by so many hardships, destroyed many lives, in addition to those lost in conflict with the enemy. Hundreds and thousands of our gallant men, worn out by marches, fighting, hunger, and loss of sleep, became discouraged, and either recklessly threw themselves into the jaws of death, or fell into the hands of the enemy, because they were unable to keep up with their more robust, though not braver companions.

“The circumstances of the death of one of these silent martyrs to their country were taken down from the lips of a soldier who was with him in his last hours. It is all that may be known, save to a few bleeding hearts, of one who, alas! like so many others, sleeps in that saddest of all places, a battle-field. The worn-out soldier, the day before his death, said to his lieutenant, ‘I am so weak and helpless, I do not know what I can do further.’ He was told to lie down, and get what rest he could on the battle-field. About ten at night, said his companion, as we were talking together, an officer of the company came up, and told us we should retreat at two o’clock in the morning. He ordered us to stand guard till then, two hours each in turn. We took straws, and drew lots to decide who should stand first. The lot fell on Trowbridge. I threw myself on the ground, under a tree, with my blanket drawn over me, and was soon fast asleep. At twelve I was aroused, but said, ‘you must be mistaken; it cannot be five minutes since I lay down.’ We had been ordered not to speak aloud, or to have a light; and he replied in a whisper, ‘Feel the hands of my watch – it is twelve.’

“I took his place, and he was soon asleep, or seemed to be. At half-past one o’clock the order came to move. I went to awake Trowbridge, but had no answer, except that he groaned heavily once and again. I tried to soothe him, and awake him gently, but he turned aside his head, groaned once more, and was gone. I struck a match, and looked upon his features; they were set, and ghastly in death. I placed his hand on my cheek, and asked him if he was still conscious to press it. There was no response; life was evidently extinct.

“I made an attempt to find the surgeon, or chaplain, but they had both gone forward with the army. So I searched his pockets, and taking from them six dollars for his mother, and a letter directed to himself, I replaced the envelope, that his name, at least, might be known to those who should find the body. Several days after this, I was one of the number detailed to go back to that spot and bury the dead. On searching near the place where Trowbridge died, I found a grave with a wooden tablet, bearing his name. Not far distant was a house at which I called, and asked the inmates if they knew anything of that grave. The woman of the family then brought forward an envelope, (the very one that I had replaced), and said they had buried a soldier there, from whose pocket it was taken. It was a relief to know what had become of the body. Of course I wrote to his mother, sending the money, and giving an account of her son’s last moments, and his burial.”

This is only a solitary instance of the bravery and faithfulness of the men who fought those terrible battles, day after day, many of whom died with their muskets in their hands, and without receiving a wound, died from hunger, thirst, and fatigue.

There was a farm-house near the battle-field, to which the wounded were carried, and the surgeons of the Union Army made it their headquarters during the battle. I will not attempt to describe the scenes which I witnessed in that building, for it beggars all description. The poor fellows seemed to know that they could not be removed, and would inevitably fall into the hands of the enemy. One man asked a surgeon, who had just performed an operation on one of his arms, “Doctor, is there no alternative – must I be taken prisoner?” The doctor was only a boy in appearance, a little Scotchman, and as noble-hearted a man as ever amputated a limb. He replied, in broad Scotch, “No, my man, there is no alternative; but keep up a good heart, I am not going to leave you, I shall be a prisoner for your sakes, and will take care of you as long as I can.” He did so, and was really taken prisoner, but was not permitted to do much for those for whom he had made such a noble sacrifice. He was Doctor Cleland, of Detroit, Michigan.

When the order was given to retreat that night, I started with my colt, having a good saddle and bridle on him now, which I had taken off a dead horse on the battle-field, and reached Malvern Hill about two o’clock in the morning. After hitching my horse, and unstrapping a small bag of oats and my blanket from the saddle, I fed him, and proceeded to take a glance around, to see how things looked. The artillery was already in position, and the weary troops were in line of battle, but flat on the ground and fast asleep – all except the guards, who were pacing backward and forward in front of the line, ready to arouse the sleepers at any moment. Feeling safe to consign myself to the arms of Morpheus after this reconnoissance, I returned, wrapped myself in my blanket, and slept until the thundering of cannon awoke me in the morning.

Malvern Hill is an elevated plateau, about a mile and a half by three-fourths of a mile in area, nearly cleared of timber, and with several converging roads running over it. In front there are numerous ravines. The ground slopes gradually toward the northeast to the wooded plain beyond, giving clear ranges for artillery in different directions.

The batteries were advantageously posted on those hills, while the reserve troops were sheltered as much as possible by the ravines. The artillery of the reserve was placed in position so as to bring the concentrated fire of sixty guns to bear upon the enemy’s front and left, approaching from Richmond or White Oak Swamp. The brave Colonel Tyler, First Connecticut, with great exertion succeeded in getting ten of his siege guns in position on the highest point of the hill; the men having to haul many of them up by hand. Commodore Rodgers, commanding the flotilla on James river, placed his gun-boats in position to protect the left flank and to command the approaches from Richmond.

The battle commenced about nine o’clock in the morning, and raged all day with terrible fury. At three in the afternoon the enemy attacked our right and center with tremendous force both of artillery and infantry. The artillery was replied to with good effect, but our infantry lay upon the ground and withheld their fire until the advancing column was within short musket range, when they sprang to their feet and poured in a deadly volley which entirely broke the attacking force, and drove the rebels back some eight hundred yards in great confusion.

The battle raged most furiously hour after hour, the enemy advancing in massive column, often without order, but with perfect recklessness; and the concentrated fire of our gun-boats, batteries and infantry mowing down the advancing host in a most fearful manner, until the slain lay in heaps upon the field.

At four o’clock the firing ceased along the rebel line, and it was supposed the battle was over; but it proved only a calm before a more terrible storm.

At six o’clock the enemy suddenly opened upon the left of our line with the whole strength of his artillery, and fiercely pushed forward his column of attack to carry the hill. His infantry in immense force formed under cover of the woods, and starting on a run across the open space, charging almost up to the muzzle of the guns of our advance batteries, came rushing on with yells and imprecations – but in a moment the whole hill was one blaze of light – those terrible siege guns had belched forth a murderous fire, and a simultaneous volley from the gun boats, infantry and numerous batteries, sent the enemy reeling back to shelter, leaving the ground covered with their dead and wounded. Then our men dashed forward with the bayonet, with wild shouts and cheers, capturing prisoners and colors, and driving the routed rebels in confusion from the field.

At a little past four in the afternoon, when there was a lull in the terrible storm of grape and cannister, I ventured to go to a house which stood about half way between our line of battle and that of the enemy. I found a large quantity of flour, bacon, smoked ham, etc. The appearance of everything in the house indicated that the family had left suddenly, without disturbing anything. The dishes were on the table, as if the family had risen from dinner; the beds and bedding too remained undisturbed; the late inhabitants seemed to have thought of nothing but of saving their lives and escaping from the Yankees.

I was not long in searching cupboard, pantry and store-room, and appropriating tea, baking-soda, cream-of-tartar, et cetera. But in order to reach the house unobserved by the rebels I had been obliged to crawl there on my hands and feet, and now the question arose how was I to carry anything back with me? Taking a bed-quilt I spread it on the floor and commenced selecting the most important articles, such as a small bag of flour, ham, an iron spider, a large coffee-pot, and some other things; after tying these up in the quilt I attached a long bed-cord to the bundle, intending to drag it along the ground. Just as I was completing my arrangements, a shell came crashing through the side of the house, and passing through the window on the opposite side, it made the house tremble as if shaken by an earthquake. Then another and another came in quick succession until I was obliged to seek refuge in the cellar. The rebels evidently thought that the house contained a band of our sharpshooters, and were determined to dislodge them if possible, for they brought three pieces to bear upon it for about twenty minutes, until they succeeded in setting it on fire. Before the echo of the last shot had died away I heard the crackling of the fire above my head, and thought it prudent to make an attempt to escape. I did not find it very difficult to do so, as the fire was principally confined to the upper part of the house. So taking my precious burden of provisions, which still lay unharmed on the floor, I began my retreat in the same manner in which I had advanced, drawing my pack after me by means of the cord. I could not make much progress, however, for I found it very difficult to drag that immense weight over the rough ground. But I at length succeeded in reaching the lines, and was hailed by hearty cheers from those who were anxiously awaiting the result of my hazardous mission. Several of the boys caught up the spoil and carried it to the rear, where we built a fire and commenced cooking immediately. An hour later we had a nice lot of hot bread, fried ham and tea ready for disposal.

Oh, I shall never forget the thrill of pleasure which I experienced when I carried this food and set it before those famishing men, and saw them eat it with a sort of awe and reverence as if it had fallen from heaven. One of the men looked up, with moistened eyes, and said: “Bob, do you know that this food has been sent us by our heavenly Father, just as much as the manna was sent to the Children of Israel? That boy risked his life in procuring it for us, but he never would have returned from that burning building if God had not shielded him from the bursting shell. I believe it has just come in time to save me from sharing the fate of poor Trowbridge.”

The battle of Malvern Hill presented, by far, the most sublime spectacle I ever witnessed. All the battles I had seen before, and those which I have seen since, were nothing to be compared to it. The elevated position which the army occupied, the concentration of such an immense force in so small compass, such a quantity of artillery on those hills all in operation at the same time, the reflection of the flashes of fire from hundreds of guns upon the dense cloud of smoke which hung suspended in the heavens, turning it into a pillar of fire which reminded one of the camp of the Israelites and of God’s dealings with His people of old, the vivid flashes of lightning, the terrific peals of thunder mingled with the continuous blaze of musketry, sudden explosions of shell and the deafening roar of cannon, combined to make a scene which was awfully grand. My soul was filled with the sublimity and grandeur of the scene, notwithstanding the ghastly wounds and piteous groans of the mangled, helpless ones around me. Thus it continued from seven to nine in the evening, the most thrilling picture which the imagination can conceive.

As soon as the firing ceased the rear of the army began to move off in the direction of Harrison’s Landing, and the exhausted troops in front threw themselves upon the ground to rest.

The greater portion of the transportation of the army having been started for Harrison’s Landing during the night, the order was at once issued for the movement of the army upon the final repulse of the enemy at Malvern Hill. The troops were to move by the left and rear; General Keyes’ corps being ordered to remain in position until all had moved off – then to cover the retreat.

General McClellan, in his official report, awards great credit to General Keyes for the manner in which he carried out these orders. He took every advantage of the ground to open new avenues to aid the movement, and made preparations to obstruct the roads as soon as the army had withdrawn.

In this way the march to Harrison’s Landing was continued; the bridges were all destroyed and timber felled across the roads immediately after the army passed, thus rendering any rapid pursuit by the enemy impossible. The trains were kept in the middle of the road, leaving room for the infantry on each side, so as to be in good position to repel any attack which might be made during the march. His dispositions were so successful that, to use his own words: “I do not think more vehicles or any more public property were abandoned on the march from Turkey bridge than would have been left, in the same state of the roads, if the army had been moving toward the enemy instead of away from him; and when it is understood that the carriages and teams belonging to the army, stretched out in one line, would extend not far from forty miles, the energy and caution necessary for their safe withdrawal from the presence of an enemy in vastly superior numbers will be appreciated.”

“High praise,” says the commanding general, “is also due to the officers and men of the First Connecticut Artillery, Colonel Tyler, for the manner in which they withdrew all the heavy guns during the seven days and from Malvern Hill. Owing to the crowded state of the roads the teams could not be brought within a couple of miles of the position; but these energetic soldiers removed the guns by hand for that distance, leaving nothing behind.”

The enemy followed the army with a small force, and occasionally threw a few shells at the rear-guard, but were quickly dispersed by our batteries and gun-boats, and on the evening of the third of July the entire army reached the Landing.

The troops presented a most distressing appearance as they drew up in line, and stacked their guns at Harrison’s Bar. The rain had been pouring down most of the night, and was still drenching the poor battle-worn, foot-sore soldiers, and turning the roads into beds of mortar, and the low marshy ground at the Landing into such a condition that it was impossible to get along dry shod, except for those who rejoiced in the possession of high boots.

The aggregate of our entire losses in the seven days’ battles, from the twenty-sixth of June to the first of July, inclusive, was ascertained, after arriving at Harrison’s Landing, to be fifteen thousand two hundred and forty-nine, namely: fifteen hundred and eighty-two killed; seven thousand seven hundred and nine wounded, and five thousand nine hundred and fifty-eight missing.

On the fourth of July the following address was issued to the troops by General McClellan:

    “Headquarters, Army of the Potomac
    Camp near Harrison’s Landing, July 4, 1862.

“Soldiers of the Army of the Potomac: – Your achievements of the last ten days have illustrated the valor and endurance of the American soldier. Attacked by superior forces, and without hope of reinforcements, you have succeeded in changing your base of operations by a flank movement, always regarded as the most hazardous of military expedients. You have saved all your material, all your trains and all your guns, except a few lost in battle, taking in return guns and colors from the enemy. Upon your march, you have been assailed day after day, with desperate fury, by men of the same race and nation, skillfully massed and led. Under every disadvantage of number, and necessarily of position also, you have in every conflict beaten back your foes with enormous slaughter. Your conduct ranks you among the celebrated armies of history. No one will now question that each of you may always with pride say: ‘I belong to the Army of the Potomac.’ You have reached the new base, complete in organization and unimpaired in spirit. The enemy may at any moment attack you. We are prepared to meet them. I have personally established your lines. Let them come, and we will convert their repulse into a final defeat. Your Government is strengthening you with the resources of a great people. On this, our nation’s birth-day, we declare to our foes, who are enemies against the best interests of mankind, that this army shall enter the capital of the so-called confederacy; that our national constitution shall prevail, and that the Union, which can alone insure internal peace and external security to each State, ‘must and shall be preserved,’ cost what it may in time, treasure, and blood.”

CHAPTER XVIII

About a week after we arrived at Harrison’s Landing a number of our absent ones joined us, among whom were Mr. and Mrs. B., Nellie, Jack, my wounded darkie friend from Williamsburg Hospital, and last and least of all came that pusillanimous coward, Colonel – , whom I had assisted in carrying from the field at the battle of Williamsburg, and whom Doctor E. had ordered back to his regiment under penalty of being reported to his superior officer. The next day after the arrival of this individual I received a message requesting me to appear at the headquarters of the – regiment. I started immediately, and found to my astonishment that it was this Colonel who desired an interview with me.

He had been gone on furlough ever since the battle of Williamsburg, and had played his cards so well that he had been promoted to the command of a brigade. He had also managed, by false representations, to have the following notice inserted in the leading newspapers of his native State, viz.: “Colonel – was severely wounded at the battle of Williamsburg, while gallantly leading a desperate charge on the enemy’s works, and was carried from the field, but no sooner had the surgeons bound up his wound than the noble and patriotic colonel returned again to his command and led his men again and again upon the foe, until the day was won; when he sank upon the ground, exhausted from loss of blood and fatigue, and was carried the second time by his men from the field.”

The paper in which this false statement was published found its way to camp, and Doctor E. replied to it, somewhat changing the editor’s sentiments with regard to the conduct of the “noble and patriotic colonel.” He, the colonel, had now returned to wreak vengeance upon Doctor E.

Going to his tent I found the colonel alone. He arose as I entered, and in rather an excited manner spoke as follows: “I am informed that you are one of the persons who carried me off the field when I was wounded at Williamsburg, and witnessed the infamous conduct of Doctor E., and heard the insulting language which he used toward me.” I did not reply, but stood gazing at the man before me. He looked me in the face for the first time since I entered, and discovering the smile of contempt which I could not suppress, he seized me roughly by the arm and exclaimed: “See here boy, what do you mean? Why do you not answer me?” I replied with provoking coolness and the same sarcastic smile: “Pardon me, sir, I was not aware that you asked me a direct question; I understood you to say that you were informed that I was one of the persons who carried you off the battle-field at Williamsburg. I have the honor to inform you that thus far your informant was correct.”

“Then you saw the treatment which I received, and heard the abusive language which Doctor E. made use of on that occasion?”

“I saw Doctor E. examine you carefully and thoroughly, and when he could discover no cause for your being brought there, I heard him say – ‘Colonel, you are not wounded at all. You had better let these boys carry you back to your regiment;’ and when you so suddenly recovered your strength and sprang to your feet, making use of threats and profane language, he said: ‘If you do not return to your regiment within fifteen minutes I will report you to General – .’”

Suddenly relaxing his grasp of my arm, he assumed a fawning tone and manner, and taking a paper from his pocket he asked me to put my name to it, and he would reward me handsomely. I took the document from his hand and read it carefully. It was drawn up, as near as I can remember after the following manner: “This is to certify that Colonel – has been infamously treated and maliciously slandered by Doctor E., while said colonel was suffering from a wound received at Williamsburg battle. Two of the undersigned carried him bleeding from the field, and witnessed the cruel treatment and insulting language of Doctor E.”

After reading the document, I said very calmly and decidedly, “Colonel, I must decline signing this paper.”

By this time I had become indignant, and determined to cut short the interview; so touching my hat in mock respect, I left him to his own reflections.

Now it came my turn to visit Washington – and the very next boat that left the landing bore me over the quiet waters of the James river. In due time I reached the Capital, and spent three days in visiting the hospitals in Washington, Georgetown and Alexandria, and various other places of interest.

I was commissioned with numerous orders and had any amount of messages to deliver for officers and others; as many of our men were in the different hospitals in those cities, and I was expected to find them and deliver letters, packages, etc.

The military display made in Washington is certainly astonishing, especially to those who are accustomed to see major generals go round in slouched hats and fatigue coats, without even a star to designate their rank. But cocked and plumed hats, scarlet lined riding cloaks, swords and sashes, high boots and Spanish spurs, immense epaulets, glittering stars, and gaily caparisoned horses, are to be seen by the hundred around Willard’s hotel and other places of resort.

I noticed that some in particular wore painfully tight uniforms and very small caps, kept on by some new law of gravitation, as one portion rested on the bump of self esteem and the other on the bridge of the nose. “Miss Periwinkle” says of this class of military heroes: “They look like stuffed fowls, and ride as if the safety of the nation depended upon their speed alone.”

Chaplain A. H. Quint manfully defends the multiplicity of epaulets in Washington, and very appropriately remarks: “Willard’s is the news depot. Consider how easily a hundred, interested to read the bulletin there, could assemble. First, the general-in-chief is in Washington, and has a staff necessarily. Secondly, the quartermaster general, the adjutant general, the military governor, the paymaster-general, and the surgeon-general, have each a staff. Thirdly, what military force there is in the city has officers. Fourthly, there is a multitude of surgeons easily mistaken for army officers, as they wear uniforms. Add to these the convalescent officers just able to move about, and you have hundreds necessarily in Washington. And of course the display of epaulets is great.”