Bullet and Shell. War as the soldier saw it ... Illustrated, from sketches among the actual scenes, by E. Forbes

Front matter

CRITICAL OPINIONS. BULLET AND SHELL " Histories of the war by generals and civilians are numberless, but the story of tbe struggle from the stand-point of the private soldier is only just beginning to find its way into print, and the rifle has at last succeeded in being recognized as hav ing been an equally potent factor with the sword. It is a pleasure to be able to heartily endorse 'Bullet and Shell.'" — Chicago Tribune. " One can safely predict that it will be the most widely circulated work on the Civil War that has been published. For the younger generation, who have grown 10 manhood since tbe great rebellion, or who are now coming up into interest about their country's history, those to whom stories of the war seem far off and unreal, this work of pen and pencil presents in brilliant lights and deep shadows a photograph of actual army life.

We take pleasure in unreservedly commending ' Bullet and Shell ' to the soldier, feeling confident that it is a publication the best suited to his wishes and wants that he can secure at the present time." — Boston Globe. " The story of an important part of our great and awful civil war has never been told so graphically as it is in the handsome volume entitled ' Bullet and Shell.' . . . His book is a succession of vivid pictures, tragic as well as comic. Not like grave ' histories,' it is as good or better as rep resenting the actual facts of real war; and it is especially recommended to young people, for its faithful story, and for the pure, chivalrous, generous tone — towards Southerners and Northerners alike — that pervades it from beginning to end." — Phila. Evening Bulletin. " Much of the narrative is in the form of dialogue, and enlivened by the anec dotes and incidents which make up so large a part of army life and so small a part of ordinary army histories.

Though a large volume, it has more pith than pad ding, and to old soldiers especially it will prove most entertaining." — Detroit Arews. " Mr. Williams' book is given a living interest by introducing the narrator first as visiting a young college friend at his home in the Virginia valley during the year preceding the breaking out of hos tilities. This friend espouses, of course, the Southern cause; and two or three times in the course of the four years' struggle the friends come in contact, and in such a way as to illustrate quite felicitously the undertones of friendly per sonal feeling running below the troubled surface of warfare. The narrative is further warmed and brightened by the in troduction of a light-hearted Irish soldier, who entertains for the narrator the most devoted and loyal friendship from first to last, illustrating another curious but by no means uncommon feature of soldier life. . . .

Preface

. HHHE time has come when a story of the American Civil War may be written without prejudice or passion. The memories of that gigantic struggle have mellowed, the bitter ness of sectional feeling has died away ; and men now view with clearer and calmer minds the issues which led to the conflict, and the motives governing its prosecution. The author of the following pages aims to present a faithful pic ture of scenes in camp and field, which, under the guise of fiction, will afford the new generation some idea of the tre mendous contest waged on this continent during the memorable years of 1861-65. To the veteran my book may be the means of recalling many pleasant reminiscences of the days when he carried the sword or the musket. In order to pre serve the unity of the narrative, I have taken an author's license in carrying the same regiment through the several campaigns from Big Bethel to Appomattox Hollow.

My old comrades of the Army of the Potomac will find, however, that in this only have I departed from the actual course of events. G. F. W. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. Beginning of the Quareel 11 II. Taking Sides 22 III. Defining Positions 32 IV. A Truce 38 V. The Hand on the Hilt 44 VI. Drawing the Blade 52 VII. Throwing away the Scabbard 64 VIII. Bandage and Lint 77 IX. A Savage Bout 90 X. Again in Harness 106 XI. A Feint 123 XII. Forest Strategy 137 XIII. A Night of Terror 147 XIV. Beaten Down 157 XV. A Pause 175 XVI. Moving towards Battle 187 XVII. A Night March 196 XVIII. Charge and Counter-charge 203 XIX. A Midnight Adventure 218 XX. A Wonderful Charge 225 XXI. Face to Face 243 XXII. Lost among the Dead 254 XXIII. Moving in Pursuit 263 XXIV. An Adventure on the Road 272 XXV. Fencing for an Opening 286 XXVI.

The Scout's Story 298 XXVII. A Change in Fortune CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XXVIII. Crossing the Line 338 XXIX. The Accounts balanced 351 XXX. Running the Gauntlet 360 XXXI. To the Rescue 366 XXXII. In Fresh Toils 373 XXXIII. By Mine and Sap 3S3 XXXIV. In Fort and Field 391 XXXV. The Correspondent's Story 400 XXXVI. Death of a Spy 411 XXXVII. A Last Effort 418 XXXVIII. Beginning of the End 426 XXXIX. Smashing the Trap 435 XL. Laying down the Sword 444 The End ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE Bringing up a Battery F>-ontispiece Friendly Fishermen 12 The End of Argument 20 The Marshall Homestead 23 Fort Sumter bombarded .... 46 "Stop firing, you Fools, till you get the Word!" ... 58 The Retreat from the Field .61 In the Trenches 67 Besieging Yorktown 71 The Dead Sergeant's Yell 74 Reporting to the Surgeon 78 "We can't sell to SoLDiEr.s " 81 A Surgical Operation frustrated 85 Capturing a Gun, — Gaines's Mill 93 The Irish Brigade to the Rescue 95 The Gunboats in the James River 101 General View of Camps, Warrenton Junction . . . .112 Pontoon-Laying — Fredericksburg 117 Review by President Lincoln — Falmouth, opposite Fredericksburg 125 The March to Chancellorsville 131 Crossing Ely's Ford, Rapidan River 135 Passing the Sleeping Corps 145 The Rout of the Eleventh Corps, Chancellorsville . . 151 Ajitillery going into Action 159 Bringing off the Wounded 166 Retreat across the Rappahannock, — United-States Ford . 169 Return to the Abandoned Camps at Falmouth ....

ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE The Confederate Spy 181 The Confederate Grave under the Roses 193 General Sickles wounded 209 The Dying Adjutant 213 BUCKTAILS GOING INTO THE DEVIL'S GLEN 216 A Council of War on Little Round Top 233 The Final Charge at Gettysburg 239 Relieving the Wounded 242 " Going for " the Rebel Sharpshooters 246 "Good-by, Tom" 252 Lost on the Battle-field 258 "A Drink of Water, for God's Sake !" 259 "Dey's all done gone, Sah ! " 270 The Winter Camp 287 Arrest of the Spy 293 The Chase 305 Before the Confederate General 308 March of the Confederate Army into Pennsylvania . . 312 Crossing the Rapidan 325 Passing Grant and Meade 329 In the Wilderness 336 General Lee and the Prisoner 340 Among the Wounded, — Confederate Hospital .... 346 Revisiting the Wilderness Battle-field 357 At the Warrenton Hotel 362 Under Guard 377 Going to Camp under Fire 389 Foraging on the Enemy- 396 Going to the Rear with Dispatches 406 General Custer and the Spy 415 The Confederates capture Fort Steadman 421 Taken Prisoner again 433 Cavalry in Pursuit . . . . 445 The Flag of Truce . . . , . " ' V/. 448 Lee's Shattered Army . ..._,!

Chapter I. Beginning Of The Quarrel

Between green fields and wooded heights, The river stretched at ease." IME, Summer. The year, 1860. Scene, the .#vJ Xs. ' Valley of the Shenandoah, West Virginia. , v^Mllj^w On a sudden bend of the river which lends ■ <^% lf^ **s mn^CB^ name to the beautiful valley, two •Y,i t«t ffl 3'0Ung men are sitting in an old, weather &fffm BSar beaten, rudely fashioned punt, idly fishing. w&^trffiwW3 Though it is now long past the hour of '•MW (TKlTfll^ noon, and the sun has already begun its ,- -.. f&Jn^]$k downward course, the air is still warm and -<^V- -~' jV5ffib>» oppressive, even in the shadows thrown -.',,1' .;\ ■)!"'■' upon the rippling stream by the huge trees overhanging its banks. The curve of the river, where our fishermen have anchored their clumsy boat, is caused by the intrusive presence of a spur from the mas sive range of the Blue-Ridge Mountains, which form the eastern boundary of the valley.

Indeed, so abrupt and sharp is the turn of the current just there, that the river seems to be completely hemmed in by the dense foliage creeping down to the water's edge on every side. Behind the occupants of the boat the mountain spur towers in lofty grandeur, its rugged sides clothed to the very summit with dark masses of oak and pine, while half way up its jutting face a broad seam of almost naked rock stands out in most threatening fashion, as though about to fall that instant into the shallow water below. Beyond the fringe of trees on the opposite bank, in the shade of which the boat swings to its primitive anchor, wide fields of golden wheat can be discerned ; and as the breeze sets the grain in waving motion it also brings to the ears of these young men the loud and careless laughter o f the gangs of negro field hands, busily engaged in harvesting.

An air of per fect peace FRIENDLY FISHERMEN. and plenty reigns over the romantic valley ; and the entire scene is one of rare loveliness, combining as it does the bold mountain outline, the picturesque and winding river, the fertile fields, and the signs and tokens of successful husbandry. " Well, Frank," exclaimed one of the young fishermen, as he impatiently jerked his line out of the water to rebait the hook, " I still contend the South is right." " And I insist that she is entirely in the wrong." " How can you do that consistently ? We have a perfect right to claim that slavery must not be molested." " Who wants to molest it ? " " The abolitionists, — Garrison, Phillips, and the rest of that crew." "Every Northern man is not an abolitionist. Why con found a few enthusiasts, who are more or less fanatical in their ideas, with the great bulk of fair-minded men in the free States?"

" I don't. But you can not deny that the sentiment in favor of abolishing slavery is gaining ground in the North. Why, you yourself are at heart almost an abolitionist;" and the speaker laughed disdainfully as he spoke. " Perhaps so. I scarcely know, myself." " To take away our slaves would be an act of tyranny. The South would not submit to such oppression." " Tyranny and oppression ? Those are hard words, Tom." " They are the only ones I can use." " How do you make that out ? " "Why, when the people of the North try to force us to give up our slaves, they act tyrannically and oppressively." " We don't ask you to give up your slaves. We only say you shall not take them into the Territories, and so create new slave States. You seek to extend slavery. We want to keep it within its present bounds.

There is no tyranny in that." " Isn't there ? Why shouldn't we take our slaves into the Territories ? " " Because slavery is really a curse to the country, Tom." " That is a bitter phrase, Frank." " Not more so than your talk of oppression and tyranny. " But the new Territories belong as much to the South as to the North." " Granted ! yet why should you seek to import slaves into them ? " " To till the soil, of course, and so enrich the nation." " Do you mean to tell me, Tom, that you consider the South ern slaves a source of national wealth ? " " Certainly I do. What else are they ? The millions upon millions of dollars invested in our slaves represent so much property, just as your farmers' horses and cattle do." " Good Lord, Tom ! you don't compare the slaves to horses or cattle?" " Yes, I do."

" Yet you would go to war to retain them?" " Why not ? Wouldn't the farmers in the free States think twice before giving up their live stock ? " " The cases are not parallel at all." " Oh, of course not ! You Northerners will never admit any thing." " I can not admit that, because slave labor is really expensive to the South." " How so ? " " It's very simple. Your slaves are naturally indolent. They need constant supervision to keep them at their tasks, and even then don't half work. Then, again, you can not discharge a slave as you would an incompetent or worthless workman." " We can sell him." " Yes ; and that is what makes slavery a curse. This con stant barter in human flesh is horrible." " Slavery has flourished since tlie beginning of the world." "So has heathenism. Is that any reason why we should gro back to worshiping idols ?

" " Oh ! if you are going to drag religion into the discussion, I am done." " I don't want to drag it in. Look at the Roman empire : slavery was one of the elements of its ruin." " That was partly because the slaves were pampered, and rose against their masters." " And you expect that your slaves will never rise against you?" " Now, see here, Frank : I've heard enough of that sort of thing. No doubt the North would rejoice to see the blacks revolt." " There you are wrong again. But the time must come when the negroes will strike for their freedom." "You talk like a regular border-ruffian, Frank. Why don't you go out there, and wear big boots, a red shirt, and a brace of revolvers? " Well, I do sympathize with those border men in their efforts to keep the soil of Kansas free from the taint of slavery."

"Oh, confound you and your taint ! " exclaimed Tom angrily. "But there's no use arguing any more about it. When we men of the South and the North once get to talking politics, we invariably lose our tempers." " Speak for yourself, Tom, please," replied his companion in a quieter tone. " I am sure I have not lost my temper, even though I do not agree with you." " But you Yankees never will give in, no matter how con vincing the argument may be." "Why do you call me a Yankee, as though it were a reproach? If it comes to that, Tom, you're as much a Yankee as I am." " Ha, ha ! No, you don't, master Frank," retorted tlie first speaker in a merrier tone: "you can't call me a Yankee, even though I did matriculate under the elms of dear old Yale. No, sir: I'm a true Southerner, born and bred, and, I'll admit, at times a hot-tempered one too , while you are as cold as the granite hills of your native State."

"Oh! I can be hot-tempered enough on occasion," replied the other. "I simply object to being called a Yankee in a reproachful sense, that is all." '■All right, Frank: I won't do it again. Hullo! by Jove ! that was a bite in earnest," ejaculated Tom, pulling up his line again, and looking ruefully at his despoiled hook. While these young men continue their pleasant pastime, and patch up their brief political quarrel as best they may, let us learn more about them. Tom Marshall prides himself on being the descendant of an old Virginia family, and as such a true son of the sunny South. Though still on the threshold of manhood, he is full of that passionate love for his section so noticeable among men of his age and class. Like all young Southerners at the time, Tom had already taken a deep interest in the political issues of the day ; and, though he failed to understand their entire scope and import, he at all times expressed the wildest devotion to the South in general and his native State in particular.

It is not my purpose here to discuss the question whether Tom was right or wrong ; for that matter seems to have been settled long, long ago, and in a way that we all now deplore and strive to forget. I merely mention the fact to explain much that is to come, and as an indication of the young man's character. Tall and sinewy, Tom Marshall is handsome in feature, and a gentleman by instinct as well as by breeding. Unlike most men of Southern birth, Tom had finished his education within the walls of a Northern college, — Yale, — as the reader has already learned from his own lips. But, despite his contact and association with young men of the North, he had left college as intensely sectional in political sentiment as when he first entered. Indeed, he expressed himself as more eager than before to devote his energies to the interests of his beloved South, showing how strong and abiding are the lessons learned in boyhood.

Tom's companion need now only be described as a stripling of twenty, fair complexioned, quite tall for his years, and pos sessing a tolerable share of good-humor. He, too, is a Yale man, though not yet entirely released from study ; and he was born in a pretty little village in New Hampshire. Tom and Frank had become warm friends in college ; and the latter is now spending a part of his vacation with the Marshalls, whose plantation forms a prominent landmark in the valley. In fact, Frank Wilmot is your humble servant, and, as I shall have frequent occasion hereafter to speak of myself, the less said now about me the better. A native of the North, and taught to view the course of public events from a widely different standpoint from that occu pied by Tom Marshall, it was not surprising that I differed with him.

True, neither of us knew much about the real merits of the grave questions we were discussing; but we thought we did, being therefore honest in our dispute, unwise and useless as it was. Already had the two great sections of the country become arrayed against each other in thought and word ; and men on both sides of the geographical line were anxiously looking for ward to the approaching presidential election, for all felt that with it would come a momentous crisis in the nation's history. For years had the struggle been going on, until it had now reached a stage when some decisive action might be looked for. The result none could forecast, so cloudy and uncertain had the political horizon become. It was quite natural, therefore, that Tom and I should thus drift into a discussion ; for, boys though we were, we considered ourselves men, like many a young fool before us.

Tom had proved himself a stanch friend in more ways than one. Indeed, much of the success I had achieved at Yale was due to his aid and counsel. Our friendship had been begun by his espousal of my side of a petty quarrel, simply because he deemed the odds against me. From that hour we had been like brothers ; and I had now spent several happy weeks with him, enjoying the picturesque scenery for which his native valley is deservedly famous. Tom quietly re-baited his hook, and we continued to fish in silence.' The sunshine left us, the shadows of the trees grew longer, the air became cooler, and a deep silence fell upon the scene. Even the mountain above our heads seemed softer and less rugged in its massive outlines, now that it no longer stood in the fierce glare of the noonday sun. But despite the delicious beauty of the landscape, and the rapidity with which we were now pulling up the unwary fish, both Tom and I felt ill at ease.

Having fidgeted on his seat for several minutes, Tom at length broke the silence, exclaiming, — " Oh, hang it, Frank ! I can't stand this sort of tiling any longer. Why should we quarrel ? I'm sorry we have such conflicting ideas about these matters." " I'm as sorry as yourself, Tom. We have been so like brothers ever since we first met, it seems hard to have a difference at this late day." "Well, it can't be helped now, I suppose. But, Frank, you may depend on one thing : if the South does strike for liberty, I am with and for her, to the death if necessary." " Liberty ! You seem to think the South has none." "Think! I know it! Don't you want to rob us of our slaves?" " Gradual emancipation would not be robbery." " And when the slaves were free you would give them the right to vote, I suppose."

" In time possibly." " By Heaven, Frank ! you go too far. As if we Southerners would permit a nigger to vote ! Better to secede at once." "Secede! What! Leave the Union?" " Yes, break away for ever." " But you have no right to secede." "Haven't we? Every State is a sovereign to herself. If she is dissatisfied she can withdraw from the confederation, and govern her own affairs." "I deny it. States are sovereigns on local questions only. They can not sever the tie which binds them together." " You forget we are talking of the whole South, not one solitary State. If we secede we shall go out in a body." " And you really believe that ? " " Believe it ! I know it. It's our only policy." " But the free States will not allow you to secede." " How are you going to stop us ? The Southern people have plenty of sympathizers in the North.

Your politicians are divided." " Politicians do not rule this country." " They have a good deal to say, at all events ; " and Tom laughed sarcastically. " Mere talk does not affect the destinies of a nation. Once let the people understand that the supremacy of the general government is in peril, and the political wire-pullers will be swept away like chaff before the wind." " You are growing eloquent, Frank." " Perhaps I am. But suppose we let you go peaceably. The South couldn't take any of the disputed territory with her." " We could at least fight for it." " That is just what might be expected : first secede, aud then go to war for more territory. It would be far better for the North to fight first, and so keep you in the Union." " Yes, and give us an abolitionist for President. We want no Frtmionts or Lincolns to rule us."

"The President is not a ruler." " Well, Frank, all I can say is, that the South will never tolerate a President who is opposed to her interests." "I guess the South will have to take tlie President selected by the people." "Will she? You wait and see. If that Hoosier rail-splitter is elected, there will be war, sure : that is, if the North really will fight." Here Tom again laughed in a sneering way that made me angry. " Do you think us all cowards, then?" I asked hotly. "Oh! I won't say that," replied Tom indolently. "But I don't suppose the 'horny-handed sons of toil,' as they call themselves, will be very ready." "And why not? Look at Mexico. Didn't our regiments fight gallantly at Cerro Gordo, and Chapultepec, and Buena Vista ? During the Revolution, were the men of New England inferior to those of Virginia or South Carolina ?

" "But in the Revolution they fought against tyranny, just as we will if the North persists in its present course." " Armed secession will be rebellion." "You are very amusing, Frank. That was what King George and his Parliament called it when the colonies drew the sword. But when the colonies were victorious, our rebel forefathers became patriots." " And you would give up your heritage to the blessings won by the Revolution ? " " Yes. If we are to lose our rights as sovereign States, there is no other course open to us." "Say no more," I replied. "It is quite certain we can never agree upon any of these political questions." "So it seems, more's the pity," said Tom gloomily. " It's a pity indeed ; but you see, old fellow, we have been taught to view these things so dif- THE END OF ARGUMENT, ferently, we can not help being in antagonism, however un willingly.

Still I feel, Tom, that, though we may hereafter be separated by political sentiment, we shall never be real enemies." "Of course not. If war does come, there will be but few personal hatreds involved. It will be purely a struggle for principle." " Well, well, let us drop it now," said I. '" My heart revolts at the thought of war. They say it will be a civil one, but I suspect there will be precious little civility about it." " You don't suppose we Southerners fancy war to be a pleasant pastime, do you ? " exclaimed Tom contemptuously. " There will not be much fun about it, I imagine, for either side, but plenty of hard knocks." " There, there ! Let's put an end to this useless argument. I am sick of it." As I spoke I jumped to my feet, and began pull ing up the stone which had anchored our boat in the stream.

" You're right," replied Tom as he took the oars, and rowed in toward the river-bank. " It's useless talking now. Let us hope, that, after all, there will be no need of any fighting." " Amen to that, with all my heart ! " I exclaimed, leaping ashore.

Chapter II. Taking Sides

"Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in, Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee." TANDING on a high expansive knoll, in the center of the plantation, the Marshall homestead formed a prominent feature in the landscape ; the estate extending from the river to the main road leading to Winchester. The house itself, like most old Virginia mansions, was irregular in plan and outline. A wide piazza ran along the entire front of the quaint old building, which, being of unpainted wood, had acquired a pure gray tinge that softened the otherwise rude aspect of the rambling structure, and made it harmonize delightfully with the foliage of the giant walnut-trees which dotted the lawn and shaded the road. The doors and windows in the old house appeared to have been pierced at random, as though each successive generation had striven to increase their number, regardless of the lack of symmetry which was the result.

This impression was, however, dispelled on gaining the interior, for then it was seen that each had its proper use ; though the new-comer found himself non plused by the confused arrangement of the various rooms and passages, for they were a perfect labyrinth. That the house was of great age, was shown by a bit of bare THE MARSHALL HOMESTEAD. log wall visible through the broken plaster at the back of the wide hall. In fact, the mansion had gradually grown from rude beginnings to its present dimensions, as the ancestors of the Marshalls increased in wealth and importance. It had always been a house famous for generous hospitality in the olden days, when the Marshalls had served their king in colonial times, or taken an active part in the subsequent revolt against him. Indeed, Tom usually grew eloquent whenever he related any of the romantic traditions clinging to the history of the family.

The old spirit of hospitality still reigned in the mansion, and guests were entertained with a heartiness that was delightful for its simplicity. Down in a hollow behind the house stood the immense barns ; while beyond these were the negro-quarters, now vocal with the sound of many voices, as the field-laborers came trooping home ward. Round the homestead itself numerous house-servants flitted to and fro, getting into each other's way with that facility so peculiar to the negro race. I had often experienced a warm sense of delight in these picturesque details of a happy and peaceful home ; but in my present mood I found no pleasure in the familiar picture, as Tom and I walked silently up the road, after leaving the narrow patli that led from the river through the standing wheat in the fields.

" There's that fellow Ned Charlton ! " exclaimed Tom, looking back, and listening to the sharp clatter of a horse's hoofs on the macadamized highway. " I wish he would not come here so often." " Don't you like him ? " " Like him ! What ! a braggart like that ? You should know me better, Frank, than to ask such a question," replied Tom in a surprised tone of voice. " He claims to be a gentleman, I believe " Claims ! yes ; and that's as near as he will ever get," retorted Tom with a sneer on his lips. " Bin fishing, gentlemen ? " exclaimed the new-comer, as he suddenly reined up beside us. " Had a good time ? " " Yes : we've been on the river," replied Tom indifferently ; " but it was too hot for comfortable fishing." "So I should jedge ; but I dunno much 'bout fishing, myself. I'm fonder of a good horse than lines and fish-hooks ; " and the speaker laughed in a disdainful way, as he glanced at our angling-tackle.