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e playing on Lee's wagon train, which was moving to our left. There was not much fighting this day. Beginning with the day before, we built not less than three lines of breastworks, one during the night, one at early dawn, and one that day. General Sedgwick, a regular army man, and the commander of the Sixth Corps, was shot that night. This sad event occurred just in front of our position. Later that same night—and it was a dark one, too—I was detailed to go back to the Ordinance train for am space for a whole brigade. It was called Fort Davis, in memory of our late colonel. I have been in it twice in later years, in 1899 and in 1902. It is situated on Jerusalem Plank Road, a mile or more from Petersburg, and next to Fort Hell or Sedgwick. Fort MacMahon (Rebel), which our men called Fort Damnation, was opposite. In building our fort, we dug a trench twenty feet wide and ten feet deep, and threw up the rampart on the inside. Thus there was eighteen or twenty feet of banking. T
Edward Beecher French (search for this): chapter 10
t, and there were eight canteens, or twelve quarts, for me to give out. I dealt out one-half gill, and so had four canteens left. I did this for fear some of the men would get intoxicated. I lay down with the whiskey under my head, and must have fallen asleep, for when I woke the whiskey was gone. It was easy to tell who stole it, for some half-dozen of the men were in a foolish condition. That day we had an inspection by the brigade commander. This was Sunday. Our chaplain was Edward Beecher French, an enlisted soldier, who was raised to chaplain. We did not have much use for him in that campaign, as little was done in the way of trying to hold religious services. July 18. We turned out at 5 a. m. A few drops of rain fell towards dark, after a day of threatening weather. We have another inspection. Captain Willard Kinsley and I go down to a creek and take a bath. We get back about 9 p. m. (Our position here was seventeen or eighteen miles from the James River, and south
Mary Pierce (search for this): chapter 10
e long, steady column towards our right. They were so near we could hear their voices, and their tramping shook the earth where we lay. In the morning we found their earthworks empty, and we so reported it at headquarters. June 1. The day was pleasant, but a hot one. As I have stated, our skirmish line, about a mile and a half from our main force, was in the woods and close up to the enemy. At daybreak when we found their works vacated, I reported to division officer of the picket, Major Pierce, of the Thirteenth Massachusetts, who ordered me to advance my line. But just as I was about to do so we found the enemy were moving back to our left. They passed within three hundred feet of our picket line, which thus found itself in a rather delicate situation. It is safe to say their flankers came as near as two hundred feet, and we did not dare to move during the hour or more which it took them to pass. There must have been five or six thousand of them. Finally they halted and s
Charles L. Pierson (search for this): chapter 10
Davis, fatally wounding him. He died at 7 p. m. His mind was clear, and he continued to converse and give directions up to the last. The surgeon of the Thirteenth, who was sitting with him at the time, was injured but slightly. Lieutenant-colonel Charles L. Pierson, afterwards General Pierson, succeeded to the command. Colonel Davis's body was embalmed and sent home, and there was a public funeral in Cambridge, where the Grand Army Post is named in his honor. His remains are interred in MtGeneral Pierson, succeeded to the command. Colonel Davis's body was embalmed and sent home, and there was a public funeral in Cambridge, where the Grand Army Post is named in his honor. His remains are interred in Mt. Auburn Cemetery. July 12. We turned out at 1 in the early morning. I was detailed for picket, and went out at 2 o'clock, with about seventy-five to one hundred men, as was the general number from each brigade. We were relieved at 6 p. m. Our regiment was moved a little to the rear, into a new fort not yet finished. The men worked on this night and day till July 15. This fort covered about three acres, or enough space for a whole brigade. It was called Fort Davis, in memory of our lat
John O. Sullivan (search for this): chapter 10
wo miles, good shelling distance, of Petersburg. Thus we spent Bunker Hill Day, 1864. June 18. At 7 a. m. we advanced through woods and dug some pits, but went forward again, and at noon occupied the Norfolk Railroad at a point where there was a deep cut between banks that were twenty-five or thirty feet high. At 7.30 in the evening, when it was dark, we advanced rapidly across a ravine which was just beyond. In that short run two men of Company E were wounded, John E. Fuller and John O. Sullivan: George Farrar was wounded later the same day. Heavy skirmishing went on ail that day, and an artillery duel in the afternoon. The officers had been ordered to brigade headquarters, where they were informed that there was to be a night attack. By this time our forces had taken two of the enemy's lines of works, and now we were expecting to charge on their third. But the order for some reason was changed to a left flank movement, which brought us on the other bank, where breastworks w
George Farrar (search for this): chapter 10
elling distance, of Petersburg. Thus we spent Bunker Hill Day, 1864. June 18. At 7 a. m. we advanced through woods and dug some pits, but went forward again, and at noon occupied the Norfolk Railroad at a point where there was a deep cut between banks that were twenty-five or thirty feet high. At 7.30 in the evening, when it was dark, we advanced rapidly across a ravine which was just beyond. In that short run two men of Company E were wounded, John E. Fuller and John O. Sullivan: George Farrar was wounded later the same day. Heavy skirmishing went on ail that day, and an artillery duel in the afternoon. The officers had been ordered to brigade headquarters, where they were informed that there was to be a night attack. By this time our forces had taken two of the enemy's lines of works, and now we were expecting to charge on their third. But the order for some reason was changed to a left flank movement, which brought us on the other bank, where breastworks were again thrown
P. S. Davis (search for this): chapter 10
ued to converse and give directions up to the last. The surgeon of the Thirteenth, who was sitting with him at the time, was injured but slightly. Lieutenant-colonel Charles L. Pierson, afterwards General Pierson, succeeded to the command. Colonel Davis's body was embalmed and sent home, and there was a public funeral in Cambridge, where the Grand Army Post is named in his honor. His remains are interred in Mt. Auburn Cemetery. July 12. We turned out at 1 in the early morning. I was de. That day we held a Masonic meeting in one of our pits. Turned in at 9 p. m. and slept all night. July 16. Out at 4 a. m. Cool weather and a quiet day. At the lodge meeting yesterday it was voted to pay the funeral expenses of the late Colonel Davis. Sunday, July 17. Turned out at 4 a. m. Pleasant, warm, quiet. I was detailed for fatigue from 9 a. m. to noon and from 6 to 9 in the evening. A whiskey ration was given out to-day (given sometimes on fatigue a gill to each man). I had one
mbush. Company E had two men wounded, Corporal George Myers and Private William Moulton. The enemy's loss must have been considerable. We lay close to the river all night and all the next day (May 24). Our skirmishes advanced, but found no enemy except Rebel stragglers, who were coming in all day. We turned in at 9, as a storm threatened. May 25. As it happened, there was no rain, so we were turned out at 3. An hour later we marched about a mile to the left and threw up breastworks. Smart skirmishing was going on in front of us. That afternoon our artillery shelled the enemy. They made no reply, but their sharp-shooters picked off a number of our men. We lay quiet all that night. May 26. We turned out at 4 in a rain which continued an hour or more. Heavy skirmishing went on nearly all day. We moved at 9 a. m., under orders not to speak a word above a whisper. This was a hard march. About 1 o'clock we recrossed the North Anna, and at 2.30 p. m. halted to draw three da
Willard Kinsley (search for this): chapter 10
for some half-dozen of the men were in a foolish condition. That day we had an inspection by the brigade commander. This was Sunday. Our chaplain was Edward Beecher French, an enlisted soldier, who was raised to chaplain. We did not have much use for him in that campaign, as little was done in the way of trying to hold religious services. July 18. We turned out at 5 a. m. A few drops of rain fell towards dark, after a day of threatening weather. We have another inspection. Captain Willard Kinsley and I go down to a creek and take a bath. We get back about 9 p. m. (Our position here was seventeen or eighteen miles from the James River, and south of Richmond.) July 19. We turned out at 5 a. m. I was detailed for fatigue, and relieved at 7 p. m. It rained all day. I had a letter from home, and wrote one in return. July 20. We turned out at 5 a. m. Rain at intervals, but clearing at night. At 9 p. m. there was some firing on our picket line, probably a quarter of a mil
William Moulton (search for this): chapter 10
ternoon we crossed this river. About a half-hour later, when part of our corps was over, Hill's Rebel Corps charged us. The river here has high banks on both sides, in some places thirty to fifty feet high, so that we could not retreat without heavy loss, Our opponents came within six or eight feet of us, then broke and went for some woods. We pursued, but as it grew dark we fell back out of the woods for fear of an ambush. Company E had two men wounded, Corporal George Myers and Private William Moulton. The enemy's loss must have been considerable. We lay close to the river all night and all the next day (May 24). Our skirmishes advanced, but found no enemy except Rebel stragglers, who were coming in all day. We turned in at 9, as a storm threatened. May 25. As it happened, there was no rain, so we were turned out at 3. An hour later we marched about a mile to the left and threw up breastworks. Smart skirmishing was going on in front of us. That afternoon our artillery she
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