The Otsego Republican.

 

NEBRASKA CORRESPONDENCE.

 

Mayre's Heights-Salem Church--Libby Prison.

 

AURORA, Neb., Dec. 20, 1893.

 

These articles are not intended as a history of the war, and yet it is intended that whit is written shall be based on facts, therefore we correct a couple of errors noticed in the sketch of Gen. Upton, published in

the REPUBLICAN of Dec. 6th: In place of 14th Regt. of Artillery read 4th Regt., and make Gen. James

N. Wilson read James H. Wilson. Any one familiar with the organization of the regular army knows that there are only five artillery regiments, and without this correction some might think the writer was not as well informed as he ought to be.

 

May 3d, 1863, was a beautiful Sabbath day, but when the church bells were calling together the loyal North, the 3d division of the sixth corps was forming in lines of battle in rear of Fredericksburg for an

assault on Marye's Heights - the same heights that had witnessed the disastrous repulse of Burnside's

army in the December previous. An hour later as the prayers were ascending from the fervent worshipers for the God of battles to save the boys in blue and give them safe return to home and kindred, the bursting shell, the shriek of bullet and the clashing of bayonets was at its height, and the mangled forms of brave men were scattered along the hillside, while the death rattle was arising from the lips of many more, and the streets of Fredericksburg were filled with wounded soldiers. But the rebel works were carried and the foe sullenly retired on the road to Chancellorsville, where Gen. Lee was holding in check the larger portion of the Union army under "fighting Joe Hooker." The name belied the man, for had he been fighting at this hour the day would not have terminated as it did with Sedgwick's corps, of which we were a part of the first division. When Lee heard that Fredericksburg was captured he had nothing to do in his own front and at once hurried reinforcements to assist Early's division in recovering the ground that they had lost.

 

Divisions relieve each other in the active service, and our division, the 1st, followed the retreating

rebels, after the 3d division had captured the works on Marye's Heights. On either side of the road the

land was rough and rolling, with ravines that made it very favorable for the enemy to delay our

progress. A battery throwing shell from every favorable point was also very annoying. But our

skirmishers, with the occasional aid of a company or two from the regiment, steadily drove the foe for

about three miles, when they probably received tidings of assistance near and made a more vigorous

stand.

 

The 121st New York was here deployed in line of battle on the left of the road. - We drove them easily

from this position, but a mile farther we found them with their reinforcements strongly posted in a piece

of wood where a brick church and a school house in addition to the timber, gave them a fine position to

contest our farther advance. Supposing we were to meet the same troops that we had been steadily

driving, when the charge was ordered, Bartlett's brigade went in with a vim that broke the rebel line.

Company "I" in which the writer was a lieutenant, struck the school house, while the right of the

regiment reached to the church.. The enemy fell back to the edge of the woods, perhaps thirty yards,

where they rallied with their reserve and then for about ten minutes it was just straight work with no

dodging on either side. It was load, pick out your man and fire. They dropped fast, both blue and gray.

I never was in a charge where, after the advancing line had been checked, the men held their ground so

stubbornly without shelter as did the 121st N.Y. at Salem Church. Well do I remember Philip Potter,

standing near me, loading and firing as cool as though be was in no danger. I saw his arm drop helpless

by his side. Turning to me he said, with a smile on his face: "Lieutenant, I am shot. What shall I do?"

"Get to the rear, quick" was the reply. And he was a fair specimen of the make-up of the regiment.

Every third man was killed or wounded before the line broke. Among the wounded that day was

Sergeant Davidson, now senior editor of the REPUBLICAN. And when the death roll came in from the

other regiments of the brigade we found, as Gen. Phil Kearney used to say: "There was just lovely

fighting all along the line."

 

Well, when our line gave way the rebels came after us on a full run, yelling and shooting, and

capturing all whom. they could overtake. The right of our regiment was under a disadvantage, as they

had no support; the regiment on the right of the 121st N.Y. not entering the woods, but halting as they

reached the edge. - Col. Upton, whose eagle eye missed nothing on the battlefield, noticed this, and sent

Major Olcott to ask the colonel of the 23d New Jersey to advance on a line with us, but this for some

reason the Jersey regiment did not see fit to do. And so, when the rebel counter charge was made, they

found a portion of the 121st N.Y. in a place of easy capture and a number of prisoners were taken from

those who remained longest on the line of battle.

 

The writer was among the captured, and leaving the retreating comrades, will tell his tale of pri-son life

in simple words and few. A stalwart foeman with loaded gun a rod away said "Halt!" The order was

obeyed, for the chances for death were too great to hazard a disobedience. My captor said, "Give me

your sword." I said "No; I will give it to an officer." He said "Come with me." I went, and we took the

road past Salem Church toward Chancellorsville. As we emerged from the woods plenty of fresh troops

were met coming from Lee's army. A Major to whom my captor spoke, said, "Give him your sword."

And so I did. I wore a slouch hat and over my uniform a large size rubber overcoat. Several rebels

wanted the overcoat, and offered to pay a large price for it in Confederate money, but I had no blanket,

and refused to part with the coat at any price. A mile was probably traveled when we halted for the

night. All the prisoners near were gathered together and placed in charge of the provost guard. I had

about two days' rations of hard tack in my haversack and thirty dollars in money in my pocket. On

taking off my rubber coat there were two bullet holes through the same, one just missing my right

shoulder, the other passing thro' the coat and haversack on the left side.

 

I did not sleep much through the night. The rebels were very jubilant over the victory at Salem Church

and Chancellorsville. The latter victory we had not yet heard of, and, of course, did not believe it could

be true. The next day we were marched toward the rebel rear and passed their whole army in line of

battle, waiting for what might turn up. The general appearance of the troops and their readiness for

action convinced us that Hooker was defeated. We camped the second night at Spotsylvania Court

House. The next day we marched to Guineas Station on the railroad running to Richmond. By this time

our numbers had increased to four thousand. We were corralled on a plain with no shelter, and one of

the hardest rain storms came that night that I ever saw. My rubber coat was a God-send that night. The

next morning we were given a pint of flour each for rations. This was something new for Union

soldiers, who always had either bread or hardtack.

 

An old darkey with flap jacks, made of flour and water, and baked in a skillet, which he was offering

for sale attracted my attention, and solved the flour question for me. I gave my pint of flour for one of

his cakes, and was happy, for of all things that is counted impossible of performance with me is

cooking a meal of victuals. My wife can testify to this today if necessary to prove what has been written.

But the good old darkey, may heaven's choicest blessings ever be with him. Of all the luxuries that was

ever tasted, the memory of that cake of his surpasses every other enjoyment. The last hard tack had been

divided with a comrade at Spotsylvania Court House. - A day had passed, and, although the march was

not a long one nor the fasting of sufficient duration to cause much distress, the desire for food had

reached such a point that memory still recalls with pleasure the simple repast obtained in such an

unexpected way. But this article has reached too great a length already for one of its kind, and Libby

Prison, to which we are fast approaching, must wait till a future article from

 

DELAVAN BATES.