Journal of James Edmond Pease, a Civil War Union Soldier

by Jim Murphy

  Fighting continues in the distance to our left — tho few messages have been received today and the path behind us is still jammed with soldiers, so there is little traffic along it. We may be so far out here that no one cares about us or this patch of dirt. Let’s hope so.

  In the evening

  They came on at dusk — something Lt. Toms suggested they might do. So I guess they care. The shadows was beginning to lengthen when first one Reb soldier, then two, three, four, and more scurried from the far woods, bent low and searching for what little cover there was. These advance pickets had been sent out to see what we would do.

  Naturally, our men opened fire on the shadowy targets and may have picked off one or two. It was hard to tell. Ten more entered the clearing in the meantime, moved forward 100 feet, dodging and ducking, and went to ground when they found shelter. Pretty soon this small group had miniés whistling thru the spring leaves at us and it was our turn to duck.

  “Find your targets before you shoot,” I heard Sgt. Donoghue order, as he moved among his group. “Make your shots count. Don’t waste a single shot.” Which was good advice, so I went along my little line and told the same to my ten men. We had been issued sixty rounds yesterday, but getting resupplied in this tangle of trees will be hard. Our sixty shots might have to last all night and tomorrow.

  Sgt. Donoghue appeared at my side. “Listen for our pickets out there,” he instructed me, tho he really didn’t need to. I had no intention of being caught “napping” and then have to answer later to him, Lt. Toms and Maj. Pettit! He had just finished speaking when — whiz! bang!! — a shell burst over our heads and — fiz! whiz!! rattle!!! — the fragments came tearing thru the treetops above us, which made us duck even lower and grab hold of our forage caps. When the metal stopped falling, the Sgt. looked up at the leaves above, which had been clearly punctured in many places by the metal, smiled and said, “I guess it wasn’t our time. Good luck, Pease,” then hurried off.

  We went back to our work then, which became real when the advance pickets from K Company began to be heard. My breathing got faster and I had an odd sense that things was beginning to happen too quickly around me to see.

  There are two kinds of charges that I know of. In one, everybody jumps up right away and runs at you, that is, after the cannons have softened up the other side. This is the sort of charge that the Reb Gen. Pickett made at Gettysburg. The second begins slowly, with little groups of men moving forward, poking and probing in various places to find the softest spot to charge. So in a little while, if they think ours is the easiest to get thru, the charge will come — and it was this that had me edgy.

  “Steady! Steady!” I yelled at my group, but I was really yelling at myself not to think too much. If you don’t do much thinking, but watch instead and then let your feet and body react, you can keep the creeping shakes under control. “Keep those fingers off the trigger,” I added, just in case any of the new boys was feeling as jumpy as me and might twitch their trigger finger by accident.

  All around us it seemed that muskets was barking and chattering away, punctuated every so often by the sound of a cannon and the whooosh of a shell overhead followed by its explosion — tho we still couldn’t see what was happening.

  “Look, Sgt.,” Boswell — who was closest to me — shouted, pointing to the clearing. I glanced around and saw a line of butternut uniforms break from cover and begin running across that open space toward our line. Then I heard the sound — a steady wave of it, like the scream of 1000 wounded animals gone crazy with pain. I’d heard it before, but every time they let out their Reb Yell, I have to admit it chills me to the bone. Every so often one of these charging men would be hit by a bullet and fall, opening a gap in their line. Pretty soon this first line looked like a mouth of rotten teeth — tho none of those still running seemed inclined to turn back!

  When the first group had come about 100 feet, their advance pickets stood and joined the charge, while behind them a second line of men emerged from the woods. They was shoulder to shoulder, almost touching each other they was so close, and screaming as loud as the first line. Thinking back, I guess that somewhere between 300 or 400 men was charging toward our guns, maybe more.

  That is when I realized what had happened. Earlier, Maj. Pettit had fired only one gun, which was enough to warn off the enemy. But they was back now and eager to get that gun — not realizing that a lot of others waited also. The Rebs was about halfway across when the trap — for that was what it was — was sprung and the entire battery fired with an unholy explosion that made the ground and trees quiver. A wall of smoke was instantly created, making seeing even worse, but I saw enough to know that the metal pieces ran across the clearing like a hot scythe, cutting down men, grass, and any-thing else standing.

  The damage to the enemy line was severe and their screams terrible, but it did not stop their charge or our work. I turned my attention to the woods down in front of us, where the fighting was getting louder, and I noticed that some of A Company’s men was moving forward. I shouted to my group to be alert and to stop watching the clearing.

  Another volley from our cannons erupted, followed by more screams and the rapid snap-crackle of both sides’ muskets. The breeze shifted, pushing smoke over us and filling up the woods around us. It had already gotten pretty dim, but now the smoke made seeing impossible. In front of us smoke and shadows and more smoke and shadows drifted thru, with an occasional flash of yellow-blue to indicate the position of a musket. I was already nervous enough, but not being able to see made my stomach jump. That’s when I decided to make some quick visits — as much to distract myself as to make sure my men was okay.

  Boswell was first and I told him to watch the clearing and shout if anything happened there. Then I hurried on. Not much fire was being directed at my group, but miniés sailed over our heads any-way, so I was bent over low when I ran to the next man. That was Theron Chisler, and he was peering ahead so intently that he jumped a little when I threw myself down beside him. “You O.K., Theron?” I asked, and he nodded yes. His eyes was big and round and I thought I should say something to put him at ease. “Good,” I said, and added, “but I can tell you that I wish those fellows would go home for the night so I can get something to eat.” Theron cracked a smile and said he agreed. Then I told him, “Stay low, hear? I’m going to check on the others now. And don’t shoot unless you know what you’re shooting at, okay?” He nodded again, and then I moved on, going from man to man, and saying much the same to each.

  When I got to Johnny, he seemed very snug and not at all concerned. He was at a spot where three trees had come down, and he had piled up bits of wood and rocks to either side of his position so he could see thru a tiny slit between the trees. If an enemy minié ball was looking for him, it would have to have very sharp eyes. The last one on my line was Willie Dodd, who was tucked in behind a thick section of tree trunk and happily feeding Spirit hardtack. “Evening, Sgt.,” he said as if nothing unusual was happening around him. “Care for dinner?” I patted Spirit and took a cracker, only when I bit into it my mouth was so dry it just sat in there like chalk.

  I looked around quickly, making a real show of studying what was going on in front of us, but of course, I couldn’t see any-thing at all. There was shadows moving around out there, but nothing that suggested the Rebs had broken thru, no shouted warnings or urgent bugle notes. The heaviest fighting was still coming from the clearing, which was now way off to my left. Just then, our cannons roared again and I pulled my head back behind the tree and gulped that wad of dry hardtack down, but it got stuck in my throat.

  “That was something, wasn’t it, Sgt.?” Willie said.

  I nodded, forcing the hardtack the rest of the way down, then managed to say, “Almighty fierce. Sounds like Maj. Pettit has added some guns over there.”

  A moment later, a cheer rose from those very guns and told us the Rebs had given up the charge across the clearing and was withdrawing. The firing continued for
fifteen or twenty minutes, then died away very quickly. There was a series of shouted commands — to stop shooting, to move this company or that one here or there, to see who had been wounded — and then things quieted down. The only sounds left now was the moans and cries of the wounded, most of whom was lying in the clearing.

  I went back along my line and did another check of my men. A number of men from K and one or two or three from A and C Companies were being helped to the path where they would wait for the ambulances, but I think it safe to say that we did not suffer many losses or serious injuries tonight. Lt. Toms said the Rebs was “stubborn in their fight, but not dogged” — which may mean that we are not very important to their plans. Time will tell.

  Sgt. Donoghue came over to see how we had done and said that no one from our Company had been killed, tho three had been hit by exploding shells: T. Stevens, D. Bernard, and C. Mahar. Fighting up the line had sounded very heavy — heavy enough to have most of the reserves on the path behind us moved up the line away from us — but there is no way to tell what has happened.

  10 o’clock

  When things settled down, a flag of truce appeared from across the clearing and after some talk the Rebs came out to collect their dead and wounded. The wounded was easy to locate because of their moans and cries for help and water, but it took some time to find all the dead. Ten or more men with torches roamed here and there to search in every dark spot. I remembered the dead Reb boy we’d seen in the woods and thought it a shame that he hadn’t been found like these fellows here.

  Some friendly chatter was exchanged with the searchers and one Reb — who was forty feet from our breastwork — said, “See you in the morning, Yanks.” But he made a mistake in addressing his comments near Shelp, who responded, “We will see you dead and in Hell, Johnny.” I believe that Reb was genuinely surprised by Shelp’s tone and thought him rude — and so did I.

  I have to do a report on my men and then Sgt. Donoghue, Sgt. Drake, and I are to meet with Lt. Toms. I am going to write a quick letter to Sarah and have decided to send all of my money to her for safekeeping. Later, I will get someone heading to the rear to take my letter back. This will take most of the night but I am glad for the distractions.

  May 6

  Did my report, had my meeting, wrote my letter, and even found someone to take my letter out — for $1! — and then had to stand guard between 2 and 3 o’clock A.M. Nothing unusual moving “out there” except a thick, damp fog. After this, managed to close my eyes — for ten minutes, I think! — and then it was 5 o’clock and time to get up and get ready to greet the Rebs.

  K Company — who felt the hardest fighting yesterday — was replaced by reserves. C and A Companies both asked to be left in place, and three other companies was moved up to add to their numbers. There are now over 200 blue uniforms positioned down in front of me and many more around the clearing. There is a feeling among the officers that they might try to get around us here and then move up our line of battle along the narrow path.

  One of Maj. Pettit’s aides scouting Reb positions. Johnny said I was getting better at drawing trees.

  Maj. Pettit relocated his guns — which was hard work in the tangled undergrowth — and four now stand near the middle of my little line.

  Had breakfast this morning to the sound of distant fighting. Fog has lifted some and the Lt. said it will burn off by eight, but that we should keep the men alert since our “friends over there” might like to fight with it as cover. I know something is going to happen because couriers have been flying up and down the path since 5:30 A.M., and the officers have had many meetings.

  Someone also thought it important that we receive a supply of ammunition — but no food, so we have only one day’s rations left. Pete McQuade joked that the gens. probably don’t think many of us will be needing to eat if the Reb forces are as persistent today as they was yesterday. McQuade patted the shirt pocket that held the coin I’d given him and added, “But I’m not worried. Not a bit.” This prompted a review of the Lucky Minié list and it turns out that Willie Dodd is to have it today.

  Have visited my men many times already. Johnny is in very good spirits despite not having Lucky Minié. He has made his position even snugger with additional piles of wood, and when I greeted him, he asked me how I liked “Fort Henderson.” I told him then that I had sent my money to Sarah for safekeeping and he said, “That is almost like a marriage propos

  dark it is dark. what time is it? no strength

  will try to write — but it is still dark and tired Head hurts and hurts and tired where are my men and the sgt., and Lt.?

  can hardly see beyond this tree with the dark or is it my eyes? Voices talking — heard barking — will check. Can feel pencil — can feel myself writing — must be alive. Voices all around

  Dark still. and head is throbbing still knock I took not so serious, but every thing is spinning —

  Must find a safe place away from here — Rebs moving everywhere. A voice is talking over and over in my head — “The way of the wicked is like deep darkness; they do not know over what they stumble.” Familiar voice — Uncle’s? who is the wicked? Foolish to be huddled here and writing. where are the others?

  Later

  Sun is just up and I have stopped to rest my leg — suppose it is may 7 or maybe May 8. I could have lost a day, I guess. Can see the woods better, but this doesn’t tell me where I am.

  Head still hurts, there is a dull pounding behind my left eye and the rest of my body is sore, especially my left shoulder and wrist. Hand numb but nothing broken that I can tell so I count myself lucky — a funny word for me to use — Someone coming

  Another Reb patrol. Squads of cavalry and companies have been going by since my eyes first opened after the explosion. Fighting far off, tho where is hard to tell. I don’t even know where I am exactly — maybe a mile from where the fight was. Uncle’s voice still making visits! No food and need to close my eyes again — will write more later.

  Somewhere sometime later

  I have found a hollowed-out hole in the side of a hill with shrubs and saplings all around — a good snug place to fit my body. This seems a quiet enough spot, but the Rebs have men roaming about looking for us, so no place is safe for long. Will write what I can remember about yesterday’s battle and then sleep. Must travel at night.

  Here is what I remember — but I may not recall it all. I was writing in this journal when a bugle sounded and someone off in the woods to my left yelled, “Here they come! Here they come!” Lt. Toms and the other officers was instantly alert and issuing orders; men started running here and there and a scattering of musket fire erupted. The cannoneers all leaped into position, officers ready. Not more than a few moments had passed and the fight was in full swing.

  I tucked the journal in my shirt, took up my musket — which I had loaded with dry powder earlier — and turned, ready to fire, when there was a succession of booms from across the way, answered immediately by a full volley from our cannons. Just the thought of the sound made by all the cannons and the way the earth shook makes my head throb even now!

  A second later, the ground all around began to erupt as shells hit and exploded and dirt and debris began flying. A shell ripped into the breastworks and instantly killed Niles Rogers and injured Otto Parrisen. Good soldiers both. Another of my charges — Hudson Marsh — cried out, “I am killed, I am killed,” and I went over and saw that he had been hit in the shoulder and was bleeding some. “You’re not dead yet,” I yelled in his ear. “Get yourself back to the ambulances if you have to,” but then he realized there was so much metal flying that it was safer to stay put.

  I wish my head was clearer. Even now, sitting here in my quiet nest, what happened is still murky. I know our cannons was firing as quickly as they could be loaded, so the ground was in constant motion and dust was jumping up with one and then another and another Boom!!! I heard Sgt. Donoghue and Sgt. Drake shouting orders and so I did the same, tho what I said is
lost to me.

  A shell hit one of the cannons on my line and pieces of it — and the men around it — went flying. I remember thinking, “They have our range now,” and seeing Lt. Toms moving among the men, his right arm dangling as if he’d been hit, with Caesar at his side holding him up. I saw men from C Company rushing forward, then almost immediately they was running back, along with some from A Company. A wagon rumbling toward the cannons with fresh ammunition hit the side of a tree and flipped onto its side. I heard 100 shouted orders and the screams of the wounded, ours and theirs — I yelled to my group to be ready to cover our retreating soldiers — there was the sharp blasts of bugle commands and the guns, of course, big and small, popping and booming everywhere. I was disoriented and confused —

  Must stop for a moment — to rest and let my thoughts calm down. Can’t remember what happened next any-way. The voice — Uncle’s I’m sure — is back — “The shield of his mighty men is red, his soldiers are clothed in scarlet. The chariots flash like flame when mustered in array; the chargers prance.” How many times did I copy these lines? How many times did Uncle read and mark my mistakes and make me copy them again?

  Later

  I was sleeping peacefully with no dreams in my head at all when suddenly I heard a voice shouting in my ear — a new voice — Corp. Gorham’s. I woke up and blinked, looking around quickly to see what the Corp. wanted. But I was alone, of course, and still in my hole in the side of the hill. It is too light to travel, so I will write instead. The Corp.’s voice has helped me remember more.

  The battle was going on all around and I was confused when suddenly Gorham was next to me yelling: “Sgt., the Lt. has been taken away injured and Sgt. Donoghue is hit, too. He said to get you.”

  I didn’t respond to him at all. Instead, I looked to see if we had any reserves on the path to help out, but there was none. Then I counted my men to see how many of them was still there. Aside from Parrisen and Marsh, everyone was okay. “Sgt.,” Corp. Gorham said, and that brought me back full to the situation.