Military Resource Center
Military Resource Center
The Otsego Republican.
NEBRASKA CORRESPONDENCE.
The Battle of the Mine--Medals of Honor.
AURORA, Neb., Nov. 10, 1883.In all ages, in all wars, in all armies, individual bravery has been recognized. -- The Victoria Cross of England, the Legion Honor Cross of France, the Iron Cross of Prussia are each used for this purpose. -- Gen. Washington in the Revolutionary War gave a heart, edged with narrow bindings and made of purple silk, to those who distinguished themselves on the battlefield.
In 1862 Congress authorized a medal of honor to be given such officers, non-commissioned officers and privates, as should most distinguish themselves in action. The medals, made of bronze, are a five-pointed star, tipped with trefoil, each point containing a crown of laurel and oak. In the middle, within a circle of thirty-five stars, America, personified as Minerva, stands with her left hand resting on the fasces, with her right, in which she holds emblazoned with American arms, she repulses, discord, represented by two snakes in each hand, the whole suspended by a trophy of two crossed cannons, several balls and a sword surmounted by the American eagle, which is united by a ribbon of thirteen stripes, palewise, gules and regent and a chief azure, to a clasp composed of two cornucopias and the American arms.
The intrinsic value of these medals is but little, but they are highly prized by those who hold them, for they mean deeds of daring which have been recognized by the highest authority in the land. One of these medals is held by the writer, another by the editor of the OTSEGO REPUBLICAN, both won on the same battlefield, and this is the story of how it was done:
July, 1864, found the army of General Grant in front of Petersburg, Va., facing the army of General Lee in a line of intrenchments many miles in length, and at one point only 15O yards apart. Since May 4th one incessant battle had been going on between these mighty armies, only ceasing at intervals to take new positions. There was no strategy nor grand tactics used in this bloody campaign. it was hard blows right from the shoulder every time they came together. Seventy-two thousand Union soldiers were killed and disabled during this brief period. The intrenchments around Petersburg were very strong and they were filled with veterans under an able chieftain.
Although we called them rebels and knew they were half clad, half starved and in the last ditch, we also knew by sad experience on many a battlefield that they could yet fight as well as the Northern troops who were well fed, well clad, and well knowing that they would win at last. It was useless to waste more lives by charging the rebel works in front, and what to do next was the question.
A regiment composed of practical miners from the coal regions of Pennsylvania occupied our lines at the nearest point to the enemy's works where there was a fort in which was stationed a rebel battery. The commanding officer of the miners says one day to General Meade: "I'll undermine that fort and blow it up with your permission." Permission was given to try the experiment, and the colored division of the 9th corps was selected to lead the charge immediately after the explosion, should the mine prove a success. The plan for the advance was as follows, viz: The first regiment was to reach the crater as soon as possible after the explosion, turn to the right and sweep down the rebel lines as far as possible and hold the position. The second regiment on reaching the rebel line was to turn to the left and sweep down the works in that direction as far, as possible. It was tho't that in the confusion an opening at least forty rods in width could be made in the rebel lines through which the balance of the troops could pass directly to the city. The attack was nicely planned, and no doubt would have been a complete success, had not the order in which the troops were to advance been changed the night before the battle. Some one in authority said the advance must be led by white, in place of colored troops and the division was selected by lot, which chanced to fall on the poorest troops in the 9th Corps.
Well, the mine was completed and four tons of powder exploded at half past four on the morning of July 30tb, burying the battery in the ruins of the earthwork and carrying consternation along the rebel lines on either side. The division selected made the advance, reached the crater and stopped, apparently with no head nor any idea of what to do next. The Division Commander was not in sight and the Brigade Commander did not realize the importance of driving the frightened rebels as far as possible on either side and then holding the position gained so that a free passage would be given the other troops to pass toward the doomed city beyond.
While rapid, intelligent movements would have made the advance a complete success, as it was, the delay gave the enemy an opportunity to rally and also bring reinforcements from other points, and the golden opportunity was passed. Three hours later found the white troops who made the advance huddled in the crater without order or discipline, and the rebels with batteries trained on the breach from all points and plenty of troops to meet any further advance.
Then came an order for the colored division to make a charge. No clear idea was given of what we were expected to do. Some said that there had not been enough killed to make it appear that a vigorous assault had been made and that we were ordered in to increase the list of killed and wounded. It was a forlorn hope to say the least, and individual bravery was needed to lead the column across the fated plain under the range of a score of cannon loaded to the muzzle and ready to fire, and there strike a line of works filled with veterans of many a battlefield, ready and anxious to pour a volley into us as did the revolutionary patriots with the red coats of Great Britain at Bunker Hill. The 30th U.S.C.T. led the division. Colonel Bates and Adjutant Davidson were among the first outside of the Union lines, and also first inside the rebel lines. Two hundred yards of breastworks, covered ways and bomb proofs, were captured in a hand to hand fight, and several hundred prisoner and a stand of colors were sent to the rear.
Then came another order for the division to advance on a battery located several hundred yards farther, near the cemetery. The attempt was made, but was met by a counter charge of Mahone's Division of Confederates, and this is the time that tried the mettle of the colored troops. The writer was shot through the head with a mini-bullet, caliber 58, but was carried from the field. Major Leeke shot through the breast killed; Capt. Seagraves, his leg shattered by a bullet, refusing to surrender killed and wounded six of the rebels, and was found with seven deadly wounds on his person. His men fought like tigers to save his body, but could not succeed. Several were found dead by his side. The color guards were almost annihilated, one after another seizing the flag and holding it aloft after his comrade fell. Company A went in with sixty-six men, and but eighteen escaped, some were bayonetted after they had surrendered. The Adjutant did valuable work in assisting in the rallying and directing of the troops, which in such a place required a cool head and plenty of nerve. The company officers held the men to their work as if they were in the harvest field. Eight of them were killed or wounded and two taken prisoners, while two hundred enlisted men were counted among the killed and wounded. This from my regiment alone.
The division, with forty-five hundred men, lost sixteen hundred and sixty-five in this disastrous affair. The remnants of the command returned to our lines singly, and in groups, where they were rallied and reformed by the officers as quickly as quickly as practicable.
Although not successful, it was admitted by those who were high in command on that day, that the colored division did all that soldiers could be expected to do under the circumstances, and the writer feels just a little pride, and it is presumed that the editor of the REPUBLICAN does also in the official recognition by the Secretary of War of the value of our services on that occasion by the presentation, to each of us, of one of those coveted tokens, the "Medal of Honor."
DELEVAN BATES.
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.
The Otsego Republican.
NEBRASKA CORRESPONDENCE.
Libby Prison.
AURORA, Neb., Jan. 12,1894.My last article left four thousand Union prisoners surrounded by rebel guards at Guinea's Station, Va., on the Fredericksburg & Richmond R. R., May 7th, 1863. A train of cars was being loaded with prisoners, but not from our coral. With rubber coat over my uniform and wearing a slouch hat similar to those worn by some of the Southerners, the writer started for the train saying to the guard as he was passed: "Guess I will take that train," to which the sentry made no reply nor made any objections to the movement. In a short time the train moved out filled with Yankees, myself among the number. For a time I rode on the platform, but a guard asking who I was, and being told that I was a prisoner he said: "Then get inside where you belong," which was cheerfully done. The farther we got from the seat of war the more hostile appeared the sentiments of the people, and loud and deep were the muttering against the authorities because they let Union prisoners ride while thousands of wounded Confederates were slowly making their way on foot to the hospitals at the state capital. We arrived at Richmond before dark and were taken at once to Libby Prison which had been a large wharehouse before the war. Major Turner's office was the first room we entered where a search was made for contraband articles. As nothing was taken from me, only a faint impression is left of the method of procedure. A complete roster was also made in this office - name, rank, and regiment of each officer was plainly written. The squad to which I belonged was taken to the middle room on the ground floor. The inmates there before us soon initiated the newcomers into the rules and regulations already in force. We were divided in messes of twelve persons each for all business purposes. One mess would use the stove and tables, wash the dishes and clean things up, and then the second mess, third, fourth and so on, until all had taken the time assigned. The dishes, stove, and in fact, all the utensils had been purchased from time to time by the occupants of the room. A full supply of water was obtained from a faucet in one corner of the room, a good-sized tub for washing and bathing, and quite a convenient toilet-room made the surroundings quite comfortable for a prison cell. A Confederate sergeant came in every morning to take our orders for extra provisions, and in our mess each member put in a dollar each day towards this extra supply above the rations distributed by the rebel commissary. The following memoranda will give the actual prices paid in 1863: Bacon, $1 per pound; Rio coffee, $2.50 per pound; sugar, $1.50 per pound; rice, 50 cents per pound. What we purchased added to our rations of flour, beans, bacon, and with a little coffee made a fair meal for twice a day. No one suffered from hunger or thirst in my room while I was in Libby.
Having plenty of water, the room was kept clean, and we were able to observe the laws of hygiene nearly as well as was done in camp. The only real scourge that memory recalls is the I "Pediculu corporis." They were awful, and as nothing but boiling the clothing will kill them, no one pretended to be free from the pests. For amusement we had cards, chess, checkers, the daily papers and a few books. Individual tastes, of course, ran in different directions. Mine ran to chess playing, and as I now teach my children the moves of this interesting game it is not without a little satisfaction that I tell them where I learned to play.
From the windows could be seen the James River, the village of Manchester, the bridge, the Tredegan Iron Works, and I think, the end of Belle Island. We slept, of course, upon the floor, and our rules were such that at a reasonable hour all lights must be extinguished, and a fair night's rest was generally enjoyed by all.
Fortune appeared to kindly favor the writer for on the sixteenth day of prison life an exchange of prisoners was announced. Our room was entered by Major Turner and his adjutant, the inmates were ordered to fall in line, the exchange roll was called and the last name on the list was "Delevan Bates, 2nd Lieutenant, 121st N.Y. Vols." And when it is told that this exchange was the last one made for over a year from that date no one will dispute the first words of this paragraph.
Well, a joyful adieu was given to Libby Prison; the railroad ride to City Point was enjoyed by all: the grand old Stars and Stripes on board the good old boat "John Rice" were saluted with truly heart-felt cheers; the voyage to the parole camp at Annapolis, and the prompt delivery of orders to rejoin our comrades at the front; our arrival at White Oak Church near Fredericksburg on June the 11th, all seems like a dream today. Capt. Kidder gave me a hearty welcome. Col. Upton said our next battle would be fought nearer home, as the rebel army, he thought, were moving North. He was correct, Ewell's Corps was even then on the way to "My Maryland," Stuart's Cavalry were covering his movements, and Longstreet was covering the rear and fooling the army of the Potomac. Hooker had not yet recovered from the results of Chancellorsville, and apparently knew not what to do. He finally concluded to send Gen. Pleasonton out with his cavalry to find the rebel army and uncover their movements. It took but a single day to solve this question. The Union army was needed in another place and needed bad - the Gettysburg campaign was opening, a campaign ending with a decisive conflict which up to that date our Army had not yet seen. The experience of the "Onesters" in this campaign will be given in our next, which will no doubt be of more interest to the comrades than was the prison experience of
DELEVAN BATES.
The Otsego Republican.
NEBRASKA CORRESPONDENCE.
The March to Gettysburg.
AURORA, Neb., Jan 20, 1894.For four weeks after the battle of Chancellorsville the Southern army were encamped on the heights west of Fredericksburg gaining in strength and enthusiasm every day. The Northern army, on the other side of the Rappahannock River, had lost over fifty veteran regiments whose term of enlistment had expired. The 16th and 27th New York Vols. went from our brigade. The men were in good spirits, but Hooker had not recovered from the disastrous defeat that he had experienced in May, and up to June the 9th apparently knew not what to do. The battle of Brandy Station uncovered Lee's movements. He had his arrangement all completed, and was even then moving through the valley on his way toward and Pennsylvania.
There was but one thing now for Hooker to do, and that was to move northward, keeping between the rebel army and Washington.
June 13th at eleven o'clock at night our brigade started in the direction of Potomac Creek. Dark, rainy and muddy, it was a night long to be remembered. My captain, J. S. Kidder, had been placed in command of a detail to load on the cars the one hundred-pound siege gun which had been brought to the front for the bombardment of Marye's Heights during the early spring. This gave me the responsibility of looking after company "I," and many a time before morning came I wished that I was in Old Otsego, far from the seat of war. A part of the way our march was on the railroad, and as no one could see the ties on account of the darkness, it was a tumble here and then a tumble there; bruised shins, elbows and heads were plentiful. Once in awhile one of the unfortunates would give vent to his feelings in language more forcible than polite, but as a general thing good nature ruled, for we all realized that the army was needed at some other place much more than it was on the hills of Stafford. We were glad when the first faint streaks of daylight appeared. As we passed Stafford Court House, if memory is not at fault, I think the Court House itself was on fire. On reaching Dumfries we stopped a time for rest and refreshments.
Through Occoquan and Fairfax Station to Fairfax Court House, where we halted a couple of days. Occasionally we heard the three-inch rifled guns of the cavalry as they met the rebels in the mountain gaps, and wondered if the great battle that we were expecting soon had commenced in earnest.
Those familiar with the early history of Virginia said we were encamped perhaps on the very ground where Lord Fairfax assisted Col. George Washington in drilling the Virginia riflemen a hundred years before. I suppose the 121st N. Y. Vols. was a larger body of troops when it left camp in the Mohawk Valley than was the army of the frontier during the French and Indian War, and the 6th corps alone was equal to any army Gen. Washington commanded during the Revolutionary War.
June 26th Lee's army was north of the Potomac, and at 4 o'clock in the morning our brigade received orders to start once more. The brigade was considered unit during the rebellion and the regiments composing a brigade always marched together and camped near each other. Some brigades had started before us and others followed after. Gen. Hooker was relieved from command and General George G. Meade was placed at the head of the army. He apparently had a well-defined idea of what he wanted the army to do. - It was to get into Pennsylvania at the earliest possible date, and fight the rebel army wherever we struck them. The words of a better writer than I am will be used in describing this march, and every comrade who was there will testify to the truthfulness of the description: Moving in quick time, the long line splashed through the dust, which rose in clouds, and where it touched the skin it burned like particles of molten brass. The hard yellow glare of the burning sunbeams seemed to eat into one's brain, and the temptation was strong to lie down in the cool recesses of some one of the copses of timber through which we passed, and abandon all else to bodily comfort. Here and there a man reeled and fell or staggered into the shade of the trees, and was left as we hurried on. Along the road under our feet articles of clothing, haversacks, blankets, and even guns and cartridge boxes were thickly strewn, but no canteens. Those tin receptacles of lukewarm water are the last thing a soldier throws away.
"Mile after mile we covered with weary feet over the hot, strangling dust, through cool vistas of forest, by scattered farm houses, whose occupants had left their labor and leaned on the fences, looking with curious mistful faces at the long column rolling up to the front. Under the terrible heat the battery horses struggled on with their tongues lolling out, dry and cracked by the dust; men gasped and tottered and fell by the roadside unnoticed; brigades were cut down to regiments, and regiments were reduced to companies, but through all came the stern, merciless 'forward, boys, forward' and we plunged on."
And yet there was one redeeming feature about this march which the boys will never forget, and that was the cherries along the roadside and in Maryland. Hundreds of trees were passed filled with luxuriant fruit, and soldiers will manage to take in everything eatable along the way, let the orders be ever so strict about leaving the ranks. The headquarters of company "I"' was pretty well supplied with fruit for a couple of days. Sedate Foot was our purveyor, and, although he was one of the most quiet and orderly men in the regiment, a good thing seldom slipped through his fingers.
The 6th corps had reached Manchester, a small town in Maryland, 35 miles from Gettysburg and went in camp for the night. The cup of coffee had been made, a slice of fat pork broiled over the coals and a few hard tack eaten with the pork and coffee, and now for a good night's rest. But look! Yonder, over the brow of the hill comes a horseman at full speed, a halo of glittering dust surrounding him in the rays of the setting sun. We can see that he has ridden far and fast, and no doubt brings tidings of great import to our commander. He sees the headquarters flag at the tent of Gen. Sedgewick, and does not slacken the rein until he springs to his feet by the side of the General who advances to meet him. "The fight is on at Gettysburg. The first corps is badly cut and Reynolds is killed." "Get the 6th corps there as soon as you can."
"We knew our call would instantly come, and each one set about the task of preparing for the march. In a few moments a bugle blast came up from headquarters and was echoed at once by the weird melody of the regimental bugles, calling the boys into the ranks. In fifteen minutes we were strapped up and out on the road, headed north toward the field where the grass was growing crimson and mangled soldiers were crawling under the bushes to die."
All night long it was tramp, tramp, tramp. Forty five minutes marching, then fifteen minutes rest in each hour. - When the bugle sounded the halt, every one lay down in his tracks to make the most out of the few moments' rest that was given, and when the "Fall in" was heard there were no laggards, for all knew well that the morrow would need every man that was fit for duty. Just before the dawn of day we were again given a few hours' sleep that our condition might be better for the work of the day.
A light breakfast the same as our supper, and then on the road again. It is another hot, sultry day, but there is no straggling. Perhaps we do not march quite as fast as we did through Virginia and Maryland. An air of listening expectancy is noticeable with everyone. At last a faint "boom" is heard and then another and another. Stalwart men glance at each other and involuntarily look at their rifles and cartridge boxes, they step a little faster, the files close up without orders, and the sets of fours align themselves a little better. It was not a new sound to any of us, but weeks had passed since we had faced such music, and we knew full well that it meant torn and mangled limbs, mutilated bodies, bones splintered and lives full of youthful vigor wiped out of existence. Just an instant like this and then comes a hundred light and good-humored remarks: "All right, boys; we'll be there in time." "The 6th corps is coming, and don't you forget it." "It won't be a Chancellorsville this time." "Uncle John (meaning Gen. Sedgewick) never was whipped yet. Wait till we get there!"
A few miles farther and in addition to the boom, boom of the cannon, came another roar, now swelling, now weakening, in fitful, spiteful firing at will and the loud crash of firing by volley was the rattle of the musketry. Rock Creek was reached just as the rebel army are making a desperate charge on Little Round Top. - Sickles' corps has been cut to pieces in the peach orchard, the wheat field is filled with dead and dying Union soldiers, the 3d and 5th corps are fighting like heroes, but Longstreet is steadily driving them back, and before the sun goes down he hopes to hold the Round Top, the key to the battlefield. But look! An unexpected scene burst forth in full view of the exultant rebel hordes. Long, service lines of battle are being formed on Little Round Top and running eastward toward the cemetery. The old 6th corps is there, and her battle flags are flaunting defiance to any that Lee can mass against them. But on they come, not realizing the doom they are to meet. They cross Plum Creek, they ascend the hillside, they approach the edge of the wood that covers the mountains. A sheet of living fire bursts forth that no troops can stand; they stagger, they halt; they begin to fall back, and Crawford's Pennsylvania Reserves ask leave to make a counter charge. 'Tis granted, and Longstreet's veterans gladly seek a shelter beyond the wheat field. The 6th corps has saved this clay, and with anxious thoughts the Union army awaits the coming of the morrow.
To be continued by
DELEVAN BATES.
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