The Gates of Light: Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

The Long-Awaited Inevitable

Appomattox, 1865

 

“He will swallow up death in victory . . . .”

Isa. 25:8

 

General Lee’s prediction, made soon after the Battle of Spottsylvania, was now becoming fulfilled.  He had warned, “We must destroy this army of Grant’s before he gets to the James River.  If he gets there it will become a siege, and then it will be a mere question of time.”

 

At noon on Tuesday, June 14, 1864, William, with his good friend, Joe, stood on the north bank of the James River.  It was an exciting moment, for now the two men were about to resume the southward trek that the Army of the Potomac had abandoned two years previously at the close of the ill-fated Peninsula campaign.  They stood waiting with their fellows at a ferry boat landing on the north bank, Wilcox Landing.  To the northwest lay Richmond, the Confederate capitol, and the fields of the great battles over which they had earlier fought.  Before them was the great river, flowing calmly under a blue sky and reflecting the luxuriant verdure on its banks.  A bright sun cast its glow upon the shimmering waters and reflected the polished cannon and burnished arms of the troops moving across the huge pontoon bridge, and brought out the brilliant colors of the waving banners.  Across the many fields, on both sides of the river, the ripe grain stood ready for harvest.

 

It was, William thought, such a contrast: the gentle smile of peace and the savage frown of war.  Soon a large ferry nosed into the landing, and in a few minutes the boat was headed for the south shore.  By dawn the next day, Hancock’s entire Second Corps was over.  The men then marched southwest and at 10:30 reached the City Point Railroad at Harrison’s Creek and took up a position facing the Confederate entrenchments in front of Petersburg.

 

The two other Prescott brothers who were with the Army of the Potomac were also soon over the James River.  Just after midnight on the 14th, Horace, with the Ninth Battery of Massachusetts Light Artillery, now assigned to Wright’s Sixth Corps, crossed on a newly-laid pontoon bridge.  Lewis, with the First Maine Cavalry, Second Brigade, Second Division of Sheridan’s Cavalry corps, crossed the river on the morning of Wednesday, June 29, near Fort Powhattan.  The corps had remained on the north bank to cover the army’s crossing, and after the crossing continued to picket in rear and left of the army.

 

 

Richmond and Petersburg, only twenty miles apart, were covered by a defensive line nearly forty miles in length.  A half-circle of inner fortifications protected Richmond on the north, east, and south.  The outer fortifications, commencing farther east of the city, extended from White Oak Swamp to the Jerusalem Plank Road, just south of Petersburg.  Lee’s army, the Army of Northern Virginia, which occupied the line, numbered approximately 57, 000 men.  They were worn and weary from the previous months of hard fighting, and lacked supplies, food, and clothing.  To exacerbate their condition, they now faced a Union force of 125,000 men, the great Army of the Potomac, under the command of Major-General Meade and his superior, Lieutenant-General Grant.  This army was supported by the well-nigh illimitable resources of the industrial North, and possessed a power that dwarfed the capacity of the southern army.

 

William saw his first action in the Petersburg-Richmond campaign on the evening of July 16, when his regiment participated in an assault on the enemy’s lines, capturing several redans and driving the enemy along the whole line.  On the morning of the 18th, the Second Corps, with the Fifth and Ninth Corps, again assaulted the enemy’s lines, only to find that they had been abandoned.  The men of the corps pushed forward through the woods to the Hare House, near the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad, a short distance southeast of Petersburg.  Having gained ground and pushed the enemy back, the corps entrenched.  It remained in this position, which was close to the enemy’s lines, until the close of the war.

 

 

During the day of the 18th, Horace, with the Ninth Massachusetts Battery, served his gun in a position on the Suffolk Plank Road, southeast of Petersburg.  The crew crossed the Norfolk Railroad on a bridge covered with poles and, from behind a ridge, opened a ruinous fire upon the enemy.  The battery fired about 200 rounds of ammunition that day.  When the enemy’s fire slackened, Captain Bigelow, the battery’s commander, ordered the men to entrench their position.

 

During the remainder of July, the army strengthened its line of entrenchments from the Appomattox to the Jerusalem Plank Road.  Hancock’s corps held the northern end of the line, near the Appomattox.  Wright’s Sixth Corps, to which Horace’s battery was attached, was in position farther south on the Jerusalem Plank Road.  All along the line, the men constructed redoubts and siege-batteries.

 

General Grant determined to move to the north bank of the James River, where, if possible, the cavalry would make a dash on Richmond, or, if this were not feasible, would destroy the railroad between Richmond and the Anna rivers.  At 5 p.m. on July 26, the Second Corps and two divisions of cavalry moved out and, after a march of seventeen miles, bivouacked that night on the south bank of the river.  The next morning the cavalry, followed by the infantry, crossed at Deep Bottom, a low-lying land on the north side of a sharp loop of the river.  A small stream, Bailey’s Creek, flows from the north into the river at this point.  The 11th Massachusetts moved into line along this creek, and, lying in the woods, held the position against severe enemy artillery fire.

 

Sheridan’s cavalry took position on the Charles City Road near Malvern Hill, dismounted, and, with the aid of its repeating carbines, drove the enemy back in confusion.  The expedition reduced the enemy force holding the Petersburg entrenchments, the infantry and cavalry returned to the south bank of the James on the night of the 28th.

 

At mid-morning of July 30, William and Joe were conversing about their recent experience north of the James, when suddenly they heard and saw a large explosion a short distance to their southwest.  It was the explosion of a large mine that had been planted under the enemy’s line.  While the explosion created a huge crater in the Confederate line, the ensuing attack by Union forces did not succeed in penetrating the enemy fortifications.  But, both men agreed, it was without doubt quite a show, although at a severe cost to the Union men who attempted to move through the crater into the enemy’s lines.

 

Grant moved a second time north of the James River, to threaten Richmond and keep the enemy from sending reinforcements to General Early in the Shenandoah Valley.

 

At 4 o’clock on the morning of August 13, William’s regiment embarked on a transport at City Point, and proceeded up the James River to Deep Bottom, landing on the morning of the following day.  After marching two miles on the New Market Road, the men took up a position in the advanced line of entrenchments facing the enemy, where they were under severe fire until relieved later that afternoon.  The regiment was then moved nearer to a Confederate fort, Fort Davis, and on the 9th of September assisted in the capture of the fort.

 

 

 

At four o’clock on the afternoon of the 13th, Lewis, once again riding by Ray’s side, headed toward the Appomattox River, which the troopers of the First Maine Cavalry crossed at midnight.  They reached the James River just before daylight the next morning, the 14th.  Lewis’ brigade was soon scouting between two roads leading toward Richmond, the New Market and Charles City roads.  They went back and forth over several byways.  They soon came to a narrow, crooked road leading through thick woods, and over which they had to proceed single file.  The advance soon located the enemy, and as soon as the rest of the regiment came up and got out of the woods into a small field, the men charged with a yell and drove the enemy off.

 

“Well, would you look at this,” Lewis shouted to Ray, as the men drew up to the abandoned enemy position.  The Confederates had just cooked their supper and were preparing to eat, when they were surprised by the Union cavalry and had to skedaddle.

 

“We might as well get some supper for our work,” Ray responded, jumping from his horse.

 

Lewis swiftly followed.  Soon the troopers, as many as could grab a bite, were on their mounts, and to the astonishment of their waiting comrades, came slowly out of the woods, meek as lambs, munching their cooked rations provided by courtesy of the enemy.

 

At ten o’clock on the morning of the 15th, the boys marched a short distance from their night’s camp and prepared themselves to fight on foot.  They spent the greater part of the day building breastworks on a knoll in a cornfield.  They were in the second line, and did no fighting that day, although the first line saw plenty of action.  The only casualty in the vicinity of the First Maine was a heifer that had wandered between the lines and was transformed into fresh beef for supper.  Apples and corn, picked and cooked early in the afternoon, supplemented the fine meal.

 

On the 16th occurred the fight known later by the regiment as the fight at Deep Bottom.  The First Maine took the advance on the Charles City Road, and after a sharp encounter with the enemy drove forward to White’s Tavern, about seven miles from Richmond.  The troopers were then ordered to support the infantry lines, which were thrown across a dense undergrowth of pines.  As soon as the lines received Confederate fire, they broke, and the First Maine was left to bear the brunt of the attack.  The First Maine, true to its gallant reputation, held and drove the rebel artillery back.  After sustaining heavy fire and considerable loss, the regiment was then pulled back to a new position in front of White Oak Swamp, where it again held the enemy in check.  On the night of the 18th, in a drenching rain, the regiment moved back south of the James River.

 

The Battle of Reams’ Station, on the Weldon and Petersburg Railroad, occurred on August 25.  The station, located a few miles south of Globe Tavern, the extreme left of the Union lines, was used as a northern terminus for Confederate supply trains bringing supplies to Lee’s army from the south.  Grant intended to destroy the railroad at this point and, if possible, as far south as Rowanty Creek.  The wagon-route, which the Southerners used to bring supplies on in to Petersburg and Richmond, would thereby be appreciably lengthened.

 

At noon on August 22, two of Hancock’s divisions, the First and Second, moved on the railroad, and by the 24th had destroyed it to a point some distance south of the station.  During this time, the cavalry picketed the roads leading to the west, to cover the infantry in their work of destruction.  That night the two divisions camped at the station.

 

The next day, the 25th, the Confederate infantry, numbering about 10,000, left their entrenchments and engaged the Federals at Reams’ Station and repulsed the Second Corps.  During this fight, William’s regiment was posted well down the Jerusalem Plank Road so as to hold off any enemy cavalry that might attempt to get in rear of the infantry.

 

Lewis, with the First Maine, saw considerable action when the men, dismounted, drew up in a swamp on the left of the Union line and poured heavy fire on the enemy.  That night both sides withdrew.  Although the Union forces were defeated, they had accomplished their objective, the destruction of the railroad farther to the south.

 

In October of that year, Grant made two more moves to force Lee to stretch and thus weaken his lines on his right, or southwest, flank.  By now Grant realized that here was his best chance to force Lee out of his entrenchments and defeat his army.

 

General Mott’s Third Division of the Second Corps occupied the lines between Fort Morton and Fort Alexander Hays, a short distance southeast of Petersburg.  The 11th Massachusetts, McAllister’s Third Brigade, held Fort Davis, about midway down the line.  On October 1st the regiment boarded rail cars, proceeded a few miles south, then marched west and camped that night a short distance west of the Weldon and Petersburg Railroad.  The First Maine Cavalry, with Gregg’s division, picketed along a westward extension of the railroad some distance to the south of the infantry.  The following day the regiment marched south and engaged with other units in driving the enemy from their works around Poplar Springs Church.  This action permitted Grant to extend his lines some distance to the west of the Globe Tavern to Hatcher’s Run.  Lee, in turn, was forced to extend and thus weaken his own lines.

 

At 10 o’clock on the morning of the 24th, William and Joe marched with their regiment from their entrenchments to a point some distance to the east, where they camped for the night and remained until the 26th.  At noon on the 27th, the men reached the Boydton Plank Road.

 

The First Maine Cavalry was now under the command of Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan P. Cilley.  It became a regiment in a new brigade, the Third, commanded by the regiment’s former commander, now Brigadier-General Charles H. Smith.  The brigade was in the Second Cavalry Division, commanded by Major-General George Crook.  The brigade moved on a course paralleling, somewhat to the south, the course taken by the infantry.

 

At 5:30  on the morning of the 27th, the regiment reached Rowanty Creek.  The enemy were posted behind breastworks on the opposite side of the stream.  Troopers from two units of the brigade dismounted and soon drove the enemy away.  After a march of some distance, the cavalry came to Gravelly Run, on the Vaughan Road.  The enemy made a stand on the other side of the run, supported by works and artillery in the woods.  The men of the First Maine dismounted and waded the creek under heavy fire.  The men were now in the bottom of a ravine, with high banks.  General Smith gave the order to charge.  With a bound and a yell, Lewis and Ray scaled the high bank in their front, and, with their comrades in the brigade, soon routed the enemy.  The cavalry moved on and reached the Boydton Plank Road sometime shortly after noon.

 

The First Maine Regiment had dismounted, and, seeing that the enemy were in their front, opened a furious fire with their repeating rifles.  The two buddies, Lewis and Ray, were lying by the side of the road, when their regimental commander, Colonel Cilley, crept between them.  The Colonel was near-sighted, and peering ahead, could see no enemy.

 

“Boys,” he shouted, “quit your firing.  You’re just wasting your ammunition.”

 

“But the rebs are right there,” Lewis replied.

 

“Well, that may be so,” Colonel Cilley said, “but wait until you can see them.”

 

The two troopers merely gazed at each other in astonishment.  Then Ray realized what was happening.

 

“Get down here, Colonel, and form your hand in a circle and look down there.”

 

The Colonel did so, and had nothing further to say about wasting ammunition.  He pulled out his revolver and joined his men in firing on the enemy, of whose visibility he had at last become convinced.

 

The Second Corps was now in line across the Plank Road.  A short distance to the north was Hatcher’s Run, where, on the opposite bank the enemy, with artillery, was posted.  McAllister’s brigade, of which the 11th Massachusetts was a part, supported, from a short distance in the rear, the Second Division of the corps.  The infantry were now receiving a severe attack, and the First Maine Cavalry, dismounted, was ordered to support McAllister’s brigade.  But the men were soon recalled to their brigade, which was engaged in a severe fight with the enemy’s cavalry farther down the road.  The First Maine was deployed on the right of the road, facing the enemy cavalry.

 

An enemy force under the command of General Mahone emerged from some woods on the east, moved between the Union cavalry and McAllister’s brigade, and attacked the infantry in the rear.  The order was given for the men to face to the rear and attack the enemy.  William and Joe ran, firing rapidly, as their regiment swept down upon the enemy and, with the brigade, drove the Confederates from the field.

 

Meanwhile, the cavalry fight was raging.  Before Mahone’s attack, the Union forces had stood back to back and had fought in opposite directions on two fronts: the infantry firing north into the enemy across Hatcher’s Run and the cavalry firing south into the enemy’s cavalry.  The shots from the Confederate infantry in front of the Second Corps passed those coming from the Confederate cavalry in front of the Union cavalry.  There was no rear.  The First Maine was under heavy fire, but refused to buckle.  The men of the First Maine were happy that night and were filled with confidence, which lasted throughout the war, in their new brigade and its beloved commander, whom they knew so well.

 

General Grant realized that he could not take the Southside Railroad until his lines were extended farther to the southwest so as to flank Lee’s right.  The infantry and cavalry were therefore returned to their camps in front of Petersburg.

 

As the 11th Massachusetts crossed Hatcher’s Run on a bridge recently built by the men of the Ninth Massachusetts Battery, which was covering the infantry crossing, William caught sight of his brother, Horace, and waved a greeting, which Horace merrily returned.  The Battle of Hatcher’s Run, was the last great fight of the year.  Both armies were soon to go into winter quarters and wait for the developments of an unknown future.

 

 

General Grant’s headquarters were at City Point, a high bluff at the junction of the Appomattox and James rivers.  The City Point Railroad, which led toward Petersburg, had been repaired.  In rear of the Union lines near Petersburg, a military railroad had been constructed to points south of the city, so that headquarters could communicate with the army and quickly furnish the necessary supplies.  A wooden staircase had been built leading from headquarters to the steamboat landing at the foot of the bluff.  Numerous wharves and storehouses were filled with supplies.  The main hospital was large enough to accommodate 6,000 patients.  Great vessels plied back and forth over the James River bringing supplies and returning wounded men to the hospital at Washington.

 

 

On a cold, brisk day in early November, Amanda was at work in her ward at the City Point Hospital.  Many of the wounded, faint with hunger, had wounds that were not properly dressed.  Amanda was beside herself with anxiety and disgust, when the surgeon of the ward came in, looking as if he had just risen from sleeping off a night of revelry and debauchery.

 

“You miserable, drunken, heartless scalawag,” she shouted, shaking her finger at him threateningly.  “Take off your shoulder straps at once and get out of this hospital!  Don’t say a thing, sir!” she continued, when the surgeon attempted an explanation.  “Off with your shoulder straps, I tell you, for they’ve got to go.”

 

A day or two later the medical director dismissed the errant surgeon.

 

One evening a few days later, General Grant was sitting in front of his tent, whittling, as he often did, on a stick and smoking his ever-present cigar.  Several staff officers were assembled around him, conversing with one another.  The scene was one of relaxed cordiality.  The dismissed surgeon came up to the General and complained that an injustice had been done him.  “General,” he said, “charges have been levied against me.  They are utterly false, and I can prove that.”

 

“Who made the charges, who was the accuser?” Grant asked.

 

“Why – why – I suppose it was that little spitfire, Amanda Prescott.”

 

Grant was silent for a few moments, then replied, “Oh, well, then, if it was she, I can’t help you.  She has more power than I‑-she outranks me.”

 

On the 8th of November, 1864, the Presidential election took place.  The votes were cast quietly in the numerous camps throughout the army.  The soldiers were given absolute freedom in their choice of candidate.  No election could have been conducted with greater fairness.  The soldiers gave Lincoln three votes for every one they gave McClellan.  In Lewis’ regiment, the results were 329 for Lincoln and 46 for McClellan.  Lincoln had retained his authority and power, and the war would now be pressed with renewed vigor to secure the integrity of the Union and the freedom of the Slave.

 

The remaining weeks of the fall and early winter were cold, with considerable rain and snow.  Amanda continued her work at the City Point Hospital, but as the days wore on she became more and more concerned with the condition of the men in the trenches and rifle pits at the front.  She often rode to the front on horseback during the day, the most dangerous time in which to be at the front, to distribute food and water to the weary soldiers restricted for long periods in the cramped confines of their posts.  For this work she had been granted a special and permanent pass by General Grant.

 

 

One day she rode out from City Point early in the morning, so as to have sufficient time at the front before returning that same day to City Point.  Two knapsacks and two haversacks were suspended from her saddle, filled with materials for making tea, coffee, and beef soup.  With these and the crackers that she included in her knapsacks, she managed to provide nourishing refreshment.  As she came close to the rifle pits, she became exposed to the enemy while riding up a slight eminence.  She was obviously mistaken for an officer, since she wore on her head a black hat and feather, and was fired at by an enemy sharpshooter.  The bullet passed close by her side and lodged in a nearby tree.  Amanda thought that this would make a good souvenir of her escape, so she halted and removed the bullet with her penknife.  When she reached the soldiers, many of whom saw her adventure, she was received with a warm and enthusiastic welcome.  On this occasion, the men called out her name and passed the word down the line that she was in their midst, and raised a shout, which was answered by the whistle of enemy bullets.

 

Amanda found that there were many ways to give aid, beyond the usual treatment provided by the medical officers at the City Point Hospital.  She was a skilled nurse.  But she was infinitely more.  She brought with her ministrations a kindly and caring disposition, a sympathetic concern for the  spiritual, as well as the bodily, welfare of her patients.  Her words of encouragement gave the sufferers a patience and fortitude that hastened their recovery.  Often, particularly in the long afternoons when the boredom of convalescence set in, she would enter a ward and play a lovely melody on her flute.  To those whose eyes were dimmed by the messenger of death, her expression of the hope of the life eternal brought the blessing of resignation and peace in the crossing over to the better country beyond the borders of time.  During long nights she sat by the bedsides of the suffering men.  The magnetism of her low, calm voice charmed away their pain.  She sang for them, and often knelt by them, her voice ascending in petition for relief and sustaining grace in the brief journey through the dark valley, carrying with it their souls into the realms of an exalted faith.  Those who received her care knew that she wore heaven’s mantle and served them for the honor and glory of the Master whom she loved.

 

One day a young soldier from a Maine regiment was brought in from the front.  He was so severely wounded in the mouth that he could not take food.  The surgeons gave him but a few days to live.  But the soldier, young and full of life, could not contemplate a slow death by starvation.  With tears in his eyes, he sought Amanda’s help.

 

“Do as I tell you, and you shall not die,” she said.  “But you shall have to go without food for a week.  Can you do that?”

 

Gratefully, the boy agreed.

 

Amanda kept the wound damp with pure cold water.  The inflammation began to subside and the ragged edges of the wound began closing up.  The surgeons watched the case with much interest, and even decided that the lad was making progress toward recovery.  Then Amanda had the soldier plunge his face into a basin of broth and sip, some of the life-sustaining nourishment escaping the unhealed wound.  He continued to gain strength, and was soon saved.  The doctors admitted that, in this case, she was wiser than they.

 

A day came, the sky overcast and promising rain, when Amanda was again traveling to the front.  There were many wounded men lying in the trenches and rifle pits.  She moved quietly among the wounded, kneeling beside them on the ground and dressing their wounds.  Her voice was music to their ears and her kind words of sympathy and encouragement seemed to them a message of hope from an angelic world.  As she passed along the line, the men’s eyes followed her, as if unwilling to be bereft of her presence.

 

“If God ever made an angel,” said one soldier, “she is one!”

 

It became dark, and Amanda lingered on in her work.  It began to rain heavily, but still she found work that needed to be done.  There were times when she was between the lines, the fires of the night-watches blazing all around.  Her resources of both mind and body became strained to the last degree, although she was not aware that she was working beyond her strength and near exhaustion.

 

A group of young seminary students, delegates from the Sanitary Commission, had arrived at the front.  They set up their large pots and boiled coffee, to be distributed to the weary men keeping their night-vigil.  Far into the night she worked, slushing through ankle-deep mud, bringing cups of coffee and crackers to the hungry men.  It was now too late to think of returning to City Point.  The students gave her a place to sleep in a tent that sheltered their stores.  She placed two boards on the wet ground, covered them with a rubber blanket, and lay down to sleep.  Every bone in her body ached with fatigue and dampness.  Her stockings and shoes were so encrusted with mud that she could not take them off.  But she was not discouraged.  That night, before her eyes closed in sleep, her soul was aglow, an altar of living sacrifice.

 

But the arduous work took its toll.  Over the next several days, Amanda grew steadily weaker.  It was soon necessary to place her in a small room adjoining one of the hospital wards.  With nourishment, rest in bed, and the attentions of her sister nurses, she appeared to improve.  But the doctors expressed grave concern.  They had diagnosed her case as one of typhoid fever, so easily contracted in the chill and damp atmosphere of the James River.

 

She reached the critical point one afternoon in December.  “I am so tired,” she said to the nurse bending over her, “so cold.  I don’t think I shall ever be warm again.”

 

The angry, rain-laden clouds were hurled to and fro in the gray heavens by the tumultuous winter winds, darkening her room with the lonely shrouds of night.  As if no one were there to hear, she murmured the words, “The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.”  She laid her hands, now pale and thin, on her bosom, and fell asleep.  She dreamed that night that she was once again at the front dressing the soldier’s wounds and speaking to them her gracious words of sympathy and comfort.

 

The news of her illness had now reached the army.  She was well-known throughout the Army of the Potomac, for she had been with it since the days of Antietam in 1862.  The thoughts of those for whom she had cared over those years, as well as the thoughts of those who knew of her, were turned her way‑-voiceless petitions for her recovery.

 

There came a day when her three brothers, Horace, Lewis, and William, were in her room, speaking softly to each other while Amanda slept fitfully.

 

“I’m afraid that we’re going to lose her,” Horace said with deep emotion, the tears welling in his eyes.

 

The surgeon of the 12th Massachusetts Regiment, a friend of Asa’s, was present.  “I think that I should go over to the telegraph office and send a message to Asa through the War Office in Washington,” the surgeon said.  “He should know, and, if at all possible, come down here.  I’m going to suggest, also, that he telegraph her parents in Maine, as well as George in the Shenandoah Valley.  But I do not think that these three can get here in time.”

 

The telegraph soon reached the War Office, and from there was carried to the White House.  When he received the message, Asa went to President Lincoln and told him the news.

 

“By all means,” the President said, with an expression of grief, “you must go.  You can catch a steamer to City Point and be there in the morning.”

 

Asa was with his brothers and sister the next day.  Amanda had grown perceptibly weaker.  She was sleeping.  Her brothers stood near her bed.  They saw her thin, pale face, translucent as if an immortal radiance were shining through the pallor of mortality.  She awakened and looked upon her four stalwart brothers who hovered near her.

 

“Don’t be sad,” she whispered, her eyes filled with a wondrous, but pathetic, loveliness.  “I know that I shall be gone soon.  I don’t want to die; I don’t believe that my work on earth is done.  But God has willed it, and His will be done.  I am content.  I want to be buried here.  I want to be with my boys who also willingly paid the final sacrifice.  And tell those at home, father and mother, and George in the Valley, that I have always loved them.”

 

At eventide, the sun breaking momentarily through the scudding clouds, the silver cord was loosed and Amanda slept at sunset.  She saw, in earth’s last, pale light, the shining ones who stood on the other shore by the crystal waters that flow everlastingly from the throne of God.

 

The wispy horizon-clouds were tinged with hues of rose as they were touched by the rays of the rising sun.  The cold, dark vault of the heavens gave way to the warm, pastoral blue of sunlit radiance.  It was as if the morning light were the presage of God’s eternal day.  The soldiers, those who had received her ministry of good and comfort in their pain, bore her coffin to the log chapel of the Second Corps.  It was a few days before Christmas, and the chapel was decorated with pine boughs.  It was filled to overflowing.  The service began with the singing of “Rock of Ages,” a favorite hymn of Amanda’s.  Chaplain Warren Cudworth, of the 1st Massachusetts Regiment, read the 23rd Psalm and spoke a few words of comfort for the bereaved loved ones.  Dr. John Douglass, the chief surgeon of the 11th Massachusetts Regiment, and one who knew intimately of her work, concluded the service with a moving tribute:

 

We bow in grief at the loss of her who has gone from us.  All of us know of her healing work among us.  She worked for the dawning of better days, for the coming days of our regenerated country.  She did not live to enjoy the light of God’s smile upon a ransomed people.  But in faith, like those of old, she saw that day from afar.

It is hard to lay her away in death’s sleep, so far away from her home; it is hard to realize that one so dear to us shall go no more in and out among us.

We bid her farewell.  She was not satisfied with the things of earth.  Her spirit, her reason, ever sought out the mysteries of the Divine.  Now she has gone to the land of full realities.  In His light, she now sees the light.  In His likeness, she is now like Him.

We cannot mourn that she fell at her post.  Her warfare, so unlike that of those who bring death, is over.  The oft-expressed wish of her heart is fulfilled.  “It is,” I heard her say, “noble to die at one’s post, with the armor on; to fall where the work has been done.”

I know of no more fitting words than those expressed by the poet, writing of the cordial recognition that awaits the faithful in the Better Land:

 

“While valor’s haughty champions wait,

Till all their scars be shown,

 

Love walks unchallenged through the gate

To sit beside the Throne.”

 

 

On September 2, 1864, Major-General William Tecumseh Sherman, commanding the Army of the Cumberland, captured Atlanta, Georgia.  On November 16, he cut off his communications with the North and began his march to the Atlantic coast.  For weeks nothing was heard of him.  “I know the hole he went in at,” Lincoln remarked, “but I can’t tell you the hole he will come out of.”  Then, the day before Christmas, December 24, Lincoln received Sherman’s telegraph: “I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah.”  Sherman had reached the sea.  On March 23, he reached Goldsboro, North Carolina.  The noose was tightening.  Sherman’s army of 100,000 men was but 150 miles away from the Army of the Potomac, 125,000 strong, at the gates of Richmond.

 

 

Now, in this spring of 1865, the time had come to force Lee out of his entrenchments and bring the war to a close.  The Union lines had been extended three miles farther to the southwest as far as Hatcher’s Run on the Vaughan Road.  Lee’s thin line was accordingly weakened.  On the 24th of March, Grant issued orders:

 

On the 29th instant the armies operating against Richmond will be moved by our left, for the double purpose of turning the enemy out of his present position around Petersburg and to insure the success of the cavalry under General Sheridan, which will start at the same time, in its efforts to reach and destroy the South Side and Danville railroads.  Two corps of the Army of the Potomac will be moved at first in two columns, taking the two roads crossing Hatcher’s Run nearest where the present line held by us strikes that stream, both moving toward Dinwiddie Court-House.

 

It was to be Grant’s last sidle around the right flank of the Army of Northern Virginia.  Forces of Major-General Edward Ord, commanding the Army of the James, were to cross the James River and occupy the positions held by the

Fifth Corps, commanded by Major-General Gouveneur Warren, and the Sixth Corps, now under the command of Major-General Andrew A. Humphreys, who replaced the ailing General Hancock.  These two great corps, with Sheridan’s cavalry, would move around Lee’s right and get astride his rail supply lines, forcing him, with his supplies cut off, to abandon Petersburg.  With the loss of Petersburg, Richmond would fall to the Union forces in its front.  With Sheridan’s cavalry operating way to the southwest and closing in from that direction and the two corps of infantry closing in from the east, Lee’s fate would be sealed.  That was Grant’s plan to end the war.

 

“Mr. President,” Asa said, one day in mid-March while the two were walking to the White House from the Telegraph Office, “I was in on it at the beginning, and now I’d like, if at all possible, to be in on it at the finish.  I think I would have been, if I had not been sidetracked at Antietam.”

 

“Yes, I begin to see it now.  I see Grant’s design.  It won’t be long until it’s over.  But what do you have in mind?”

 

“You will be going to City Point in a few days, to talk things over with General Grant.  I’d really like to rejoin my old regiment, but I can’t do the marching that I used to do.  Do you suppose that you could help me get on Grant’s staff, if you’d feel comfortable in making such a suggestion, and if Grant could use me to some good effect?”

 

The President chuckled, for he had known now for some time that Asa seemed to be on edge and restless.  “I think that it can be arranged.  The General and I get along pretty well.”

 

President Lincoln concluded his visit on the morning of March 29.  He accompanied Grant and his staff to the railroad station.  Asa, decked out in a new uniform, was with Grant’s people.  The President gave each member of the party a cordial handshake.  There was a merry twinkle in his eye when he grasped Asa’s hand.  When the group was aboard and the train about to start toward the front, the men raised their hats respectfully.  The President returned the salute, and with a voice broken with the stress of great emotion, said: “Good-by, gentlemen.  God bless you all!  Remember, your success is my success.”  Then the train moved off.  Grant had begun his last campaign.

 

 

Lewis and Ray were jolted out of bed by the sound of the bugle.  It was 4:30 o’clock of the morning of Wednesday, March 29, 1865.

 

“I’m so tired,” Ray said, stretching his aching limbs and arms, “of having to get up so early in the morning, and at the sound of such nerve-wracking noises.”

 

Lewis laughed at his friend’s enigmatic way of expressing his good humor.  “Yes, I suppose it does get old.  But I think that this is something new and different.  We may be on our way to our last whack at old man Lee.”

 

“Well, we’d better get a hurry on us, because the way it looks around here, we’re soon going to find out.”

 

The men of the First Maine Cavalry were ready to move with their division by 6 o’clock.  As they were just pulling out, they caught sight of a force of cavalry approaching them.

 

“That’s Sheridan,” one member of the troop exclaimed.  Cheer after cheer rent the still morning air.  With Sheridan leading them, the men were ready to go anywhere.  They knew that if he were at their head, they would not only be safe, but that they would be victorious.  Sheridan’s corps, 13,550 strong, followed the Weldon and Petersburg Railroad south to Reams’ Station, turned west, crossed Rowanty Creek at Malone’s Crossing, and camped that night at Dinwiddie Court House on the Boydton Plank Road.

 

At 6 o’clock that morning, Humphreys’ Second Corps, with four days’ rations in the men’s haversacks and eight days’ in the supply wagons, moved out of its winter position.  The corps moved west and by evening took up a position along the Quaker Road near Dabney’s Mill.  At twilight, the men advanced through thick forest and undergrowth and drove the enemy’s skirmishers from their rifle pits.

 

The next morning it began to rain.  The thick dust was soon turned into a sea of deep mud.  The Second Corps continued its advance and by nightfall had driven the enemy inside his entrenchments on the Boydton Plank Road near Hatcher’s Run.  The march was a difficult one, owing to the rain and mud.

 

“If anybody ever asks me,” William said, as he was plodding along, “whether I’ve been through Virginia, I can honestly say, ‘Yes, in several places.'”

 

 

The First Maine remained at camp that day.  Ray had gone about scouting the territory, when, toward evening, he returned with a small calf and tied it near the door of his tent.

“Why in the world did you swipe a small calf?  He’s too small to butcher,” Lewis said with some indignation.

 

“Well,” Ray replied, with a mischievous grin, “just wait and see.  Then you won’t think that I’m so inconsiderate.”

 

In a little while the calf’s mother responded to the cries of her offspring and came to its rescue.  Ray caught her, milked her, then turned her and her calf loose.  They had a good supper of hardtack and milk.

 

Noon of March 31 found William and Joe charging through heavy slashings to a ridge overlooking the enemy’s works on the Boydton Plank Road.  The boys went through severe fire from the enemy’s batteries and musketry and succeeded in capturing a number of pickets.  After an hour, the regiment was ordered to withdraw.  The next day, April 1, the regiment reoccupied the position.

 

On March 31, General Lee launched an offensive of infantry and cavalry and drove the First Division of Sheridan’s cavalry, which was at Five Forks, an important junction of five roads, back to Dinwiddie Court House.  The First Maine Cavalry went into action to assist in checking the Confederate advance.

 

 

About the middle of the forenoon, on that cold, windy morning, the First Maine was ordered to saddle and pack and be ready to move at a moment’s notice.  Then the order came for the regiment to prepare to fight dismounted.  Lewis strapped his sabre to his saddle, filled his cartridge box to capacity, stuffed spare cartridges in his pockets, and loaded his seven-round spencer carbine.  He knew that the troopers were soon to go in for a great fight.  He took a needle and thread from his kit and sewed up some money in the watch pocket of his pants.

 

“I don’t know what may happen, but we may go to Richmond this trip,” he explained.

 

Colonel Cilley and his staff mounted their horses.  Lewis knew instinctively what was coming.  In a few moments, the colonel gave the order for the men to move forward.  They ran swiftly up the road to a small creek, Chamberlain’s Creek, where, on the opposite bank, Confederate cavalry and infantry were posted.  Lewis’ regiment was to the left of the road, near the creek, in some dense woods.

 

A body of enemy cavalry, riding swiftly out of a thicket, bore down on the Union men.  The men were in no place for a standing fight, so they charged with a cheer, and, albeit dismounted, furiously unleashed their repeater carbines upon the mounted enemy cavalry.  The enemy could not stand the incessant fire and soon withdrew with considerable loss of men.  The Maine boys continued in pursuit, until they gained a thicket, where they took position.  While in the road they threw up a line of breastworks.

 

Late in the afternoon the men heard a tramping in the woods across the creek.

 

“Here they come,” someone yelled.  They emerged from the woods, forded the waist-deep creek, and, scarcely fifty yards distant, surged forward in their “sunset charge.”

 

The boys in the entire brigade fought bravely and stubbornly.  Lewis was deluged with twigs, even large limbs, which were cut down over him by enemy artillery fire.  Streams of iron hail, singing to the tune of the shrieking rebel yell, flew past him.  The brigade, now isolated from the rest of the cavalry, was slowly pressed back.  But there was no rout.  Lewis made a step backward, firing as he went, halted, then turned about face, and again fired.  He repeated his dance-step of battle, until he came across  Colonel Cilley.

 

“How much ammunition do you have?” the colonel asked.

 

“Forty rounds,” Lewis replied.  “I ‘ve just taken some from some wounded men.  So I’m pretty well stocked.”

 

“You’re just the man I want.  See that stump over there?  Go over there and get behind it and hold the rebels in check as long as your ammunition lasts.”

 

Meanwhile, the brigade, nearly out of ammunition, reached a turn in the road where there was a strong line of Union troops behind a breastwork of rails.  Seeing such a strong force, the enemy quickly retired.  The men of the regiment looked for their comrades, from whom many of them had become separated during the action.  But Ray was unable to locate his good friend, Lewis.

 

The next morning Lewis found Colonel Cilley.

 

 

“I carried out your instructions, colonel, but when my ammunition was out the rebs were behind me on either side, and I was obliged to lie where I was till night, and I did not find my regiment till after midnight.”

 

The First Maine paid heavily for its stand at Dinwiddie Court House.  It took ninety-seven casualties.  One man in every four had been killed or wounded, and one officer in every three had been killed or carried to the rear wounded.  It was held in reserve when the next day’s fighting opened.

 

On the morning of Saturday, April 1, the Confederate infantry withdrew to their fortifications on the White Oak Road near Five Forks.  Sheridan, who was now in overall charge of the offensive, brought Warren’s Fifth Corps up to the White Oak Road, while he moved his cavalry around and in rear of the Confederate line.  The infantry overran the left of the Confederate line and turned on it in two columns from the rear.  The cavalry relentlessly hammered the Rebel right and rear.

 

Sunday, April 2, found Wright’s Sixth Corps a short distance southwest of Petersburg and poised for an attack on the enemy’s work in its front.  Horace’s battery of the Ninth Massachusetts was one of five batteries scheduled to accompany and support the infantry attack.

 

With the first light of the new day, at 4:40 A.M., the attacking columns moved out and poured over the enemy’s picket lines.  The Pioneers immediately went to work clearing away the abatis and other obstructions.  Then the masses of Union soldiers, whipped to a frenzy by the excitement of at last unleashing an unquenchable fury upon the army that had too long evaded them, poured into the enemy defenses like an avalanche of raging waters.

 

 

Horace rode on the caisson of his gun, drawn swiftly and precipitously through the lurid flashes of fire and sulphurous clouds of smoke by the six magnificent steeds, their dense manes caught by the sharp wind and lifted like a moving shroud over their arched necks.  In what seemed but a twinkling of an eye, the lead driver found a favorable position where the battery could be put into action.  The men quickly unhitched the teams, detached the caisson from the gun, placed the limber nearby, and sent a screen of shot and shell into the enemy’s ranks.  Into the avenues of death, cleared by those monsters of war, more infantry ran with a great shout of exaltation.  It was, unquestionably, a scene of victory such as they had never before witnessed in all their years of conflict.  Now, they knew that it was near‑-that now the gods of war were sufficiently propitiated and were willing to give them the crown of victory.  There was a celebration, that day, of the gods on high Olympus.

 

Petersburg fell!  That evening, April 2, 1865, General Lee began evacuating his army from that city and the Capitol of the Confederacy, the City of Richmond.  That magnificent general had fought his last offensive battle at Dinwiddie on the last day of March.  No longer would the army of the southern Cause march to battle with flags unfurled and to the sound of stirring song of war.  Lee’s only hope was to escape the clutches of the Union forces gathering all around him and join General Joseph E. Johnston’s army somewhere to the southwest.

 

 

The 11th Massachusetts infantry were also busy on the second day of April.  At 8:00 A.M. that morning, the regiment moved forward on the Boydton Plank Road, and, with other regiments of the division, forced the enemy out of their fortifications south of Hatcher’s Run.  The division then moved toward Petersburg and formed on the right of the Sixth Corps.  The men bivouacked there that night.

 

Lewis and Ray were up before daylight of that morning, the 2nd of April, and were soon doing picket duty.  Later in the morning, the regiment was called in and at noon joined the brigade.  The troopers marched throughout the day in a northwesterly direction, guarding the Fifth Corps wagon trains, and camped after midnight near Sutherland’s Station, on the Southside Railroad.

 

General Lee withdrew his army from Richmond and Petersburg in multiple columns.  Ewell’s Second Corps moved west out of Richmond along the Richmond and Danville Railroad.  Longstreet’s First Corps left Petersburg and marched west on the River Road north of the Appomattox River.  Anderson’s Fourth Corps took the River Road on the south bank of the river.  The Third Corps, now under the command of Brigadier-General William Mahone since A. P. Hill’s death the day before, left from its position between Richmond and Petersburg, taking the route of the Clover Hill Railroad.  Lee’s army was to unite at Amelia Court House, where he hoped to receive supplies before moving southwest to join Johnston’s army somewhere beyond Danville.

 

At 8:15 on the morning of Monday, April 3, Major-General Godfrey Weitzel, commanding the Twenty-Fifth Army Corps, entered the city of Richmond and received its surrender later in the day.

 

The boys of the Fifth Maine were up at daylight on that 3rd of April.  There was some marching back and forth.  No one seemed to know just what to do.  Then the regiment drew up in line of battle, threw out skirmishers, and settled down to wait developments.

 

“Look, Lewis,” Ray shouted, pointing to the east in the direction from which the enemy was expected, “there’s dust over there.  We could have a fight.”

 

But in a few minutes the head of the column came into view.  The men wore blue!  They were Union men!  The boys of the cavalry were anxious to get any news.  There had been rumors that Petersburg had been captured.

 

“What’s the news?” Lewis asked.

 

“Not much,” was the nonchalant reply.

 

“Has Petersburg been captured?” Ray asked, joining in the persistent questioning.

 

“Well, I can’t say for sure,” the hesitant informer replied, with a twinkle in his eye, “but we came through there this morning.”

 

Now the troopers knew the truth, and they rent the air with wild and tumultuous cheers.

 

“Well,” Ray said, “that’s some news for ‘not much news.'”

 

The Second Corps moved out of its camp at Petersburg early on the morning of the 3rd of April, taking the River Road south of the Appomattox River toward Amelia Court House some distance to the northwest.  The men camped that night about midway between the two places.

 

 

The First Maine troopers had turned in for a night’s sleep when darkness fell.  They were soon routed out when orders were given to move out at once.  Lewis and Ray were again in the saddle and on the road.  Around 1 A.M. the next morning, Tuesday, April 4, a halt was called, and the two comrades lay down in front of their horses, the bridles in their hands, and took a short nap.

 

At noon the regiment reached the Richmond and Danville Railroad.  Accompanying the rest of Sheridan’s forces, the regiment turned to the right and followed the railroad in the direction of Richmond.  When evening came, the troopers reached Jetersville, southwest of Amelia Court House, where it was expected that Lee’s columns were converging.  Lee’s army was at the court house, but blocked by the Union cavalry from following the railroad southwest toward Danville and Johnston’s army.

 

At 6:00 A.M. that day, the Second Corps resumed its march northwest in the direction of Amelia Court House.  Just before noon, the column halted to permit two divisions of cavalry, the First and Second, to enter the road and proceed ahead of the infantry.  This enforced interruption, which lasted until 7 o’clock that evening, was welcomed by the men, however, in that they received much-needed rations.  The corps camped that night on the banks of a small creek, Deep Creek.

 

The Ninth Massachusetts Battery moved out at noon that same day and took the Boydton Plank Road to Petersburg.  Horace walked beside his gun through the heart of the city.  At the railway station, where the buildings were in smoldering ruins, the battery turned left and proceeded west on the River Road, the route taken by the Second Corps earlier that day.  The artillerymen made camp that night near Sutherland’s Depot on the Southside Railroad.

 

By 3 o’clock the next afternoon, Wednesday, April 5, the men of the Second Corps reached Jetersville and, forming along side the Fifth Corps, bivouacked for the night.  The two great infantry corps had now joined with Sheridan at Jetersville to block Lee’s retreating forces.

 

Realizing that he could no longer proceed by the Richmond and Danville Railroad, Lee turned north, crossed Flat Creek, a tributary of Appomattox River, then headed west toward Farmville, on the Southside Railroad, where he hoped to find rations sent by rail from Lynchburg.  It was his intention, should he succeed thus far, to continue on to Danville.

 

 

The Federal pursuit continued with increasing urgency on Thursday, April 6.  By 8 o’clock that morning, the men of the First Maine Cavalry were in the saddle.  The morning air was fresh and invigorating, the trees just putting on their green.  Lewis and Ray rode side by side.  At times they could see Lee’s army off to their right, marching parallel with them.  When the regiment reached the little village of Deatonsville at noon, it participated in an attack by the entire division on the enemy’s trains.

 

 

On that same morning, Humphreys’ Second Corps crossed Flat Creek and moved toward Deatonsville.  William and Joe waded across the creek, the water up to their armpits.  They laughed at their wet, bedraggled condition as they climbed the opposite bank.  The Federals soon overtook the rear of Lee’s army, Major-General John B. Gordon’s division of the Second Corps, and kept up a running fight with the Confederate infantry throughout the day.  Just before dark Gordon halted near where a small creek, Salyer’s Creek, flows into the Appomattox River and made a stand.  The men of the 11th Massachusetts infantry, with the rest of the brigade, charged the enemy immediately and succeeded in capturing the enemy’s wagon train and a large number of prisoners.  Gordon’s troops crossed the creek and attempted to reform his lines, but fell back when Union troops crossed.

 

By afternoon of that day, the Confederate troops of Anderson and Ewell had reached Salyer’s Creek on a second road a mile upstream from the one over which Gordon’s men had marched.   They were now alone, out of contact with Gordon, downstream on the lower road, and out of contact with the lead of Lee’s army, Longstreet, who was some distance ahead.  The Rebels were drawn up along the creek, where it flows in a northwesterly direction.  Wright’s Sixth Corps was massed on the north side of the creek.  The Union infantry rushed across the creek and struck with overwhelming force.  The artillery of the Sixth Corps was posted a short distance back of the infantry, and sent destructive fire into the ranks of the enemy.  Crook’s division of Federal cavalry operated on the extreme left, crossing the creek and engaging the enemy from their rear.

 

The men of the First Maine Cavalry were dismounted and, leaving the rest of the brigade, advanced ahead into the woods.  In their front the enemy was posted behind temporary breastworks.  At the cry, “Charge,” the entire line of cavalry, facing heavy fire, stormed the enemy’s lines.  Although the enemy fought bravely, they were soon sent scattering in confusion over the hills.  Now the two comrades in arms, Lewis and Ray, joined their triumphant buddies in a wild charge over the abandoned breastworks, and, yelling like fiends, chased the enemy for more than a mile.

 

For the southern men of Anderson’s and Ewell’s corps, it was an unmitigated disaster.  They had no chance, hemmed in as they were by the infantry on the north and the cavalry on the south.  Nearly 5000 men were captured.  Anderson managed to escape, but Ewell was among those captured.

 

This day, April 6, would be remembered in later times as “Black Thursday of the Confederacy.”  That night Ewell sat with his captors around the campfire and uttered the unthinkable, “Our cause is lost.  Lee should surrender before more lives are wasted.”

 

At half-past five the morning of Friday, April 7, the Second Corps again took up the pursuit.  The morning was cold, with flurries of snow dusting the men’s shoulders.  The corps kept close to the river, taking routes heavily marked by the retreating Confederate infantry.  The corps reached the railroad bridge, High Bridge, over the Appomattox River.  Longstreet’s First Corps, which Lee accompanied, had just crossed the bridge and set it on fire.  Another bridge nearby, a wagon bridge, was starting to burn, but the men of the Second Corps soon had the fire extinguished and were soon crossing the river.

 

William marched with his regiment, now across the Appomattox River, on a road leading northwest and connecting with the Lynchburg Pike about four miles north of Farmville.  About one o’clock the regiment, with the division to which it belonged, met Lee’s whole army entrenched on a ridge and supported by the artillery.  The Union forces held Lee’s army there during the entire day, providing time for other units of the Federal army to tighten the noose around the southern army.

 

 

 

At 6:30 on that morning of the 7th, the men of the First Maine Cavalry were again in the saddle.  The regiment, with the rest of Crook’s division, galloped west, and in a short time arrived at a small creek, Briery Creek.  After discomfiting enemy skirmishers, the troopers crossed the creek and drew up on a hill.  Union sharp-shooters, lying flat to protect themselves, were firing from the near side of the rise.  The regiment soon dislodged the enemy and pushed after them as rapidly as possible.

 

About that time, General Smith, in command of the brigade, rode over to Colonel Cilley, commanding the First Maine, and said: “We have driven the enemy out of town; charge in there at once, and capture what prisoners you can.”  The town was Farmville, located about four miles west of the High Bridge crossing where the Second Corps was positioned.

 

The First Maine divided its forces in several parts and rode through the little town on several parallel streets.  The regiment then assembled on the far side of the town, advanced up a hill and skirmished with the enemy, capturing several prisoners.  They then turned back and, joining the brigade, rode back through the town, meeting on the way the Sixth Corps infantry.  The entire division then marched to Prospect Station on the Southside Railroad, about twelve miles west of Farmville.  The troopers arrived about midnight and went into camp.

 

General Grant and his staff had arrived at Farmville in the afternoon of that day.  Asa was with the party.  Grant stopped at the hotel and sat on the porch fronting the road, watching the infantry march past.  When evening came, bonfires were lit on both sides of the road, and countless numbers of infantry marched past the general, holding lighted pine knots as improvised torches and lifting in the night air the victorious chorus of Asa’s old regiment, “Glory, glory, hallelujah!”

 

Sheridan’s cavalry was rapidly moving west toward Appomattox Station on the Southside Railroad.  Grant now knew that the cavalry would reach the station before Lee arrived to receive supplies there, and that the Confederate retreat would be once again blocked.  The general then wrote a note, which was sent through the Second Corps picket line to Lee:

 

Headquarters Armies of the

United States.

April 7, 1865‑-5 P.M.

 

General R.E. Lee,

Commanding C.S. Army:

General: The results of the last week must convince you of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of Northern Virginia in this struggle.  I feel that it is so, and regard it as my duty to shift from myself the responsibility of any further effusion of blood, by asking of you the surrender of that portion of the C.S. Army known as the Army of Northern Virginia.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

 

U.S. Grant

 

Lieutenant General,

Commanding Armies of the United States.

 

Grant received Lee’s reply early on the morning of Saturday, April 8:

 

7th Apl ’65

Genl

I have recd your note of this date.  Though not entertaining the opinion you express of the hopelessness of further resistance on the part of the Army of N.Va.‑-I reciprocate your desire to avoid useless effusion of blood, & therefore before considering your proposition, ask the terms you will offer on condition of surrender.

Very respy your obt. Servt

 

R.E. Lee

Genl

 

General Grant replied immediately, assuring Lee that the terms would be generous:

 

April 8, 1865

General R.E. Lee:

General: Your note of last evening, in reply to mine of same date, asking the condition on which I will accept the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, is just received.  In reply, I would say that, peace being my great desire, there is but one condition I would insist upon, namely, that the men and officers surrendered shall be disqualified for taking up arms again against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged.  I will meet you, or designate officers to meet any officers you may name for the same purpose, at any point agreeable to you, for the purpose of arranging definitely the terms upon which the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia shall be received.

1. S. Grant

Lieutenant-General

 

But notwithstanding these communications, the Federal pursuit continued relentlessly.  At 5:30 that morning the Second Corps, now joined by Wright’s Sixth Corps, started off an a twenty-six mile march on the Lynchburg Pike north of the Appomattox River.  It was an uneventful day of marching.  William, with others of his regiment, merely plodded on through the warm spring sunshine.  He saw no enemy, only the columns of blue-clad men ahead and behind his regiment.  To the left and right of the road on which he marched were plowed fields, awaiting the sown grain, and blossoming peach orchards.  The little hamlets through which he passed were standing as they had since days long gone by, and the farmhouses were intact and filled with curious people standing in their front yards.  Here, through this land where war had never come, the two armies, the pursued and the pursuer, were struggling to decide the issue that had rent the Union.  At sunset the weary men were given a two-hour rest.  Then the march resumed.  Late that night, nearly morning, the men halted and slept by the roadside.

 

At the same early hour, Sheridan’s cavalry moved west on the south side of the river.  By nightfall he had reached Appomattox Station and had dug in across the Lynchburg Pike.  He was across Lee’s escape route to the southwest.

 

Lewis and Ray, with the regiment, left their night’s camp at Prospect Station and, after the rest of the cavalry corps had passed, fell in behind as rear guard.  While the march was shorter than that taken by the Second and Fifth corps, the men of the First Maine were tired and hungry when, at dusk,  they reached Appomattox Station.  A detail of the brigade was sent off to round up something to eat.

 

“Listen, what is that?” Ray asked.

 

“I’m not sure, but it sounds like a train somewhere,” Lewis answered.

 

“There’s cheering.  I wonder what’s happening?” Ray said.

 

A train drew up in front of the regiment and stopped.  Peering out the window of the locomotive cab was a long-haired cavalryman of Custer’s rough riders, who seemed as able to control an iron horse as he could his own quadruped.

 

 

“Come and get it, boys,” he shouted from the cab, with a broad grin and toss of his head.  It was rations that had been sent to Lee but instead wound up in Custer’s hands.  After a hearty supper, courtesy of Lee’s starving men, the men of the First Maine drew up in a field near the station and bedded down for what they hoped would be a good night’s rest.

 

Lewis and Ray were soon sound asleep.  They were awakened by one of Colonel Cilley’s aide.  “We’ve just received an order to saddle and pack, and be ready to move out at once.  We’re to move out and hold a road.”

 

“They’re shoving us pretty hard,” Lewis remarked to Ray.  Ray agreed, but noted that there was no way of getting behind orders.  They marched north until midnight, when they reached the Lynchburg Pike.  The command passed burning wagons, discarded munitions of war, clothing, blankets, and all sorts of stores, discarded and strewn all about.  Their route was lit by burning wagons.  It was a scene of utter destruction.

 

A general staff officer came up and told Colonel Cilley he was to prepare his men to fight on foot.

 

“Be as quiet as possible,” he said.  “Give no loud cheers.  I’ll show you where to take your position.”

 

The men left their horses,  and were taken across the road to the brow of a hill and formed at right angles with the road now on their right.  They constructed a strong line of breastworks, and at 1 o’clock in the morning they rested on their arms.

 

At midnight, General Grant, who was with Meade’s column north of the Appomattox River, received Lee’s reply to his communication earlier that day:

 

April 8, 1865

Lieut. Gen. U. S. Grant:

General: I received at a late hour your note of to-day.  In mine of yesterday I did not intend to propose the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, but to ask the terms of your proposition.  To be frank, I do not think the emergency has arisen to call for the surrender of this army, but as the restoration of peace should be the sole object of all, I desired to know whether your proposals would lead to that end.  I cannot, therefore, meet you with a view to surrender the Army of Southern Virginia, but as far as your proposal may affect the C.S. forces under my command, and tend to the restoration of peace, I should be pleased to meet you at 10 a.m., to-morrow, on the old stage road to Richmond, between the picket lines of the two armies.

1. E. Lee,

General.

 

It was now Sunday, April 9, 1865.  General Grant was up early.  He went up the road a little way from the house beside the Pike where he had spent the previous night to Meade’s headquarters and had a cup of coffee.  He then wrote a note in reply to Lee’s of the preceding day.

 

April 9, 1865

General R.E. Lee:

 

General: Your note of yesterday is received.  I have no authority to treat on the subject of peace; the meeting proposed for 10 a.m. to-day could lead to no good.  I will state, however, General, that I am equally anxious for peace with yourself, and the whole North entertains the same feeling.  The terms upon which peace can be had are well understood.  By the South laying down their arms they will hasten that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives, and hundreds of millions of property not yet destroyed.  Seriously hoping that all our difficulties may be settled without the loss of another life, I subscribe myself, &c.

U.S. Grant,

Lieutenant-General.

 

At the first break of dawn, Lewis and Ray awoke to the music of enemy skirmishers advancing toward the regiment’s position on the Turnpike.  The remainder of the regiment was on the right of the road.  After an hour of rather desultory fire, the enemy’s fire died down.  The men could see in the distance a large body of enemy infantry working around their left and swinging into the road in front of the regiment.  Now the entire brigade, Smith’s Third Brigade of Crook’s Second Division, poured deadly carbine fire into the oncoming enemy.  The brigade was being slowly pressed back by superior numbers, but the enemy line seemed reluctant to charge.  When the brigade was forced off the road, an orderly came by and shouted, “Keep up your courage, boys; the infantry is coming right along‑-in two columns‑-black and white‑-side by side‑-a regular checkerboard.”  They were the men of the Twenty-fifth and Fifth Corps.  When the Confederate infantry saw the great host of Union infantry assembling before them, they precipitously fled rearward to the valley of the Appomattox.

 

That night, when it was all over, Lewis got the news: that the First Maine Cavalry, with the brigade, had faced Lee’s entire army and, in its resolute stand, had denied the southern commander access to his route of escape.  There would be no more fighting that day or, it turned out, henceforth.  The boys of the First Maine had fought the last battle of the Army of the Potomac in its long contest with the Army of Northern Virginia.

 

 

After he had sent his note to Lee, General Grant decided to cross the Appomattox River and go to Sheridan, who was in position just west of Appomattox Court House.  Bidding Meade goodbye, he left with his staff and, after crossing, rode off to the west.  Asa would always remember the ride.  It proved to be a difficult one, through fields, over hills, ravines filled with sluggish water, most of the way without any well defined roads.  He heard fighting ahead, although then he did not know that it was the fight in which his brother, Lewis, was then engaged.  At noon the men reached a little clearing, where they paused to rest their horses.  Asa looked back and saw a rider coming toward them at great speed, waving his hat and shouting.

 

“Hold up, Hold Up!  I have a message from General Meade,” the young Union officer informed Asa.  “Where’s General Grant?”

 

“He’s over yonder,” replied Asa, pointing to a large tree under which Grant sat smoking his cigar.  “I’ll take you to him.”

 

Grant took the message, broke the seal, and read to his staff,

 

April 9, 1865

Lieut. Gen. U.S. Grant:

General: I received your note of this morning on the picket-line, whither I had come to meet you and ascertain definitely what terms were embraced in your proposal of yesterday with reference to the surrender of this army.  I now ask an interview in accordance with the offer contained in your letter of yesterday for that purpose.

1. E. Lee,

General.

 

 

At noon of that day, the head of the Second Corps came within three miles of Appomattox Court House and overtook Lee’s forces north of the river.  General Meade, who was with the corps, received a note from General Lee asking for a cessation of hostilities pending negotiations for surrender.  At the same time Meade received word that Ord, commanding the Union troops on the other side of Appomattox Court House, had granted a truce.  Meade notified Lee that hostilities would be suspended for two hours.  At the expiration of that time Grant instructed Meade to suspend hostilities until further orders.

 

General Lee was resting on a blanket spread on the ground under an apple tree that stood beside the road, the Lynchburg Pike, about midway between the Appomattox Court House and Longstreet’s corps, confronted by Humphreys’ Second Corps, a short distance to the northeast.  A Federal officer rode up, carrying a white flag.  He brought a letter from Grant:

 

General R. E. Lee,

Commanding C. S. Army:

Your note of this date is but this moment (11:50 A.M.) received.  In consequence of my having passed from the Richmond and Lynchburg road to the Farmville and Lynchburg road.  I am writing this about four miles west of Walker’s Church and will push forward to the front for the purpose of meeting you.  Notice sent on this road where you wish the interview to take will meet me.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

1. S. Grant

Lieutenant-General.

 

 

Accompanied by two members of his staff, Lee rode up the road that led to the small village of Appomattox Court House.  Colonel Charles Marshall, Lee’s military secretary, located a suitable house, McLean’s, a brick two-story dwelling by the side of the road near the courthouse.  A few minutes later, Lee and his other aides arrived and entered a medium-sized parlor on the left side of the first floor.  He took a seat in an armchair beside a square, marble-topped table near the front window.  He was immaculately dressed in a new military uniform.  After a half-hour wait, at 1 o’clock Grant and his staff arrived.

 

Grant was dressed in his mud-spattered field uniform.  He looked very much like a private soldier, with the exception of the shoulder straps designating his rank.  When Grant entered the room, Lee rose to meet him and the two shook hands.  Grant then sat down in a chair in the middle of the room, and, his arm on a small oval table, faced the Confederate general.

 

Asa, with others of Grant’s staff, soon filed into the room.  Some found chairs, but most of the men, including Asa, stood along the wall to Grant’s right.  There was some personal conversation between the two generals, after which the commanders turned to the business at hand.

 

“I suppose, General Grant,” Lee began, “that the object of our present meeting is fully understood.  I asked to see you to ascertain upon what terms you would receive the surrender of my army.”  Grant immediately replied: “The terms I propose are those stated substantially in my letter of yesterday; that is, the officers and men surrendered to be paroled and disqualified from taking up arms again until properly exchanged, and all arms, ammunition, and supplies to be delivered up as captured property.”

 

Lee nodded his assent, and replied: “These are about the conditions which I expected would be proposed.”

 

“Yes,” Grant said, “I think our correspondence indicated pretty clearly the action that would be taken at our meeting, and I hope it may lead to a general suspension of hostilities, and be the means of preventing any further loss of life.”

 

“Will you put the terms in writing, General”? Lee asked.

 

“Very well,” Grant replied, “I will write them out.”

 

He passed the document to Lee.

 

Appomattox Court House, Va., April 9, 1965

 

General R. E. Lee, Commanding C.S.A.

 

General: In accordance with the substance of my letter to you of the 8th inst., I propose to receive the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia on the following terms, to wit: Rolls of all the officers and men to be made in duplicate, one copy to be given to an officer to be designated by me, the other to be retained by such officer or officers as you may designate.  The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the Government of the United States until properly [exchanged], and each company or regimental commander to sign a like parole for the men of their commands.  The arms, artillery, and public property to be parked and stacked and turned over to the officers appointed by me to receive them.  This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage.  This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authorities so long as they observe their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.

 

Very respectfully,

1. S. Grant,

Lieutenant-general.

 

“After the words ‘until properly’ the word ‘exchanged’ seems to be omitted.  You doubtless intended to use that word,” Lee said.

 

“Why, yes,” Grant replied, “I thought I had put in the word ‘exchanged.'”

 

“I presumed it had been omitted inadvertently, and, with your permission I will mark where it should be inserted.”

 

“Certainly,” Grant responded.

 

When General Lee came to the sentence referring to officers retaining their personal possessions, he seemed touched by Grant’s generosity.  “This will have a very happy effect upon my army,” he said.  He then pointed out that in the Confederate army the private soldiers owned their own horses and mules.

 

Grant saw immediately the nature of Lee’s concern, that the men of the army needed their animals to do the farm work when they returned to their homes.

 

“I will not change the terms as now written,” Grant said, “but I will instruct the officers I shall appoint to receive the paroles to let all the men who claim to own a horse or mule to take the animals home with them to work their little farms.”

 

Lee’s face brightened.  “This will,” he replied, “have the best possible effect upon the men.  It will be very gratifying, and will do much toward conciliating our people.”

 

General Lee then had his military secretary draw up a letter of acceptance:

 

Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia,

April 9, 1865

 

General: I have received your letter of this date containing the terms of the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia as proposed by you.  As they are substantially the same as those expressed in your letter of the 8th inst., they are accepted.  I will proceed to designate the proper officers to carry the stipulations into effect.

 

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

1. E. Lee,

General.

 

Lieutenant-General, U. S. Grant,

Commanding Armies of U. S.

 

Just before the two commanders left, each to take up his responsibilities, Grant offered to send 25,000 rations to Lee’s men.  Around two o’clock, General Lee shook hands with General Grant, bowed to the the men of Grant’s staff, and left the room.

 

Asa followed the general and watched as Lee stood on the lowest step of the front porch and gazed wistfully in the direction of the valley where his men lay as prisoners.  Asa would always remember his last glimpse of the defeated commander.  Lee thrice struck the palm of his left hand with his right fist, oblivious to his surroundings.  He then mounted his famous horse, Traveller, and rode east to his headquarters.

 

 

William was with his regiment, the 11th Massachusetts, at the front.  The regiment had just been inspected, and the men, firmly grasping their guns, were alerted to move forward at a moment’s notice.  Although they had heard rumors that surrender negotiations were under way, they were held on the alert, ready to advance against the enemy in their front.

 

In front of the regiment was a large open field.  A huge tree stood on the right edge of the field.  William saw a group of men sitting their mounts under the shade of the tree.  Aides were rushing back and forth.  “What was going on out there?” he asked himself.  Suddenly a mounted figure left the group and galloped rapidly toward the regiment.  He waved his hat in the air with wild and frantic gesticulation.  William soon saw that he was a Federal officer.

 

It was none other than the Commander of the Army of the Potomac, General Meade himself, that dignified and austere easterner, the hero of Gettysburg. “It’s all over, boys!  We are going home,” he shouted, as he rode on to spread the news throughout his great army.

 

William would, in the long years ahead, tell of the men’s reaction to the glorious news.  He and Joe embraced, tears of happiness running down their cheeks.  The scene was a pandemonium of joy.  Men danced while the air rang with shouts of ecstasy.  Others fell to their knees and offered up fervent prayers of thanksgiving.  Then, as if not quite realizing the significance of it all, a profound calm spread throughout the ranks of the victorious soldiers.  They seemed numbed by the immensity of the events that had just transpired and by the memories, now surging from the depth of consciousness, of the long struggle over the sad years through which they had lived.

 

It was the evening of the 9th of April.  The four brothers were once again together around their campfire near Grant’s headquarters.  Asa was the host.  Lewis had come over from the cavalry camp nearby, while William came in from Humphreys’ corps to the east.  Horace, who had been stationed at Nottoway Court House, trekked in from off to the southeast.

 

They sat there together, in the dusk of evening, conversing about the events of the week, particularly those of the day soon to slip into irretrievable history.  They spoke of home and the loved ones with whom they would soon be reunited.  They remembered, with fondness, their beloved sister whose life was poured out on the altar of service.  They thought of George, off to the northwest in the Valley, who by now would know of Lee’s surrender.  They saw in time’s distance a future shrouded in the mists of uncertainty.  Then they fell quiet, silenced by the presence of a voiceless and veiled divinity, the Angel of the Nation, brooding over the desolation of a stricken people.  The brothers wondered at the deeper mystery that somehow decreed that, in the affairs of peoples and nations, the pathway to the kingdom of love on earth must be opened by the sword.  They had willingly taken that sword.  They were now to lay it down.  What lay ahead? they asked.  Had a new step been taken in humanity’s long journey homeward?

 

 

Sunday, April 9, 1865, was an end.  It was also a new beginning.  On that night, an inventor in far-away Vienna, Austria, turned the rear wheels of a strange-looking apparatus, and an engine sputtered and roared, carrying the occupant down the streets of the city.  The age of the automobile had been ushered in.

 

ROSTER OF THE ARMIES

 

APPOMATTOX, 1865

 

U.S. ARMY

Lieutenant-General Ulysses S. Grant

 

ARMY OF THE POTOMAC

Major-General George C. Meade

 

Second Corps: Major-General Andrew A. Humphreys

Bvt. Maj. Gen. Gershom Mott, 3rd Division (w)

Brig. Gen. Regis de Trobriand, 3rd Division

Bvt. Brig. Gen. Robert McAllister, 3rd Brigade

Lieut. Col. Charles C. Rivers, 11th Mass. regt.

William Prescott

 

Fifth Corps: Major-General Gouverneur K. Warren

Brevet Major-General Charles Griffin

Sixth Corps: Major-General Horatio G. Wright

Ninth Corps: Major-General John G. Parke

Army of the James: Major-General Edward O. C. Ord

Defenses of Burmuda Hundred: Major-General Edward Hartsuff

Twenty-Fourth Corps: Major-General John Gibbon

Twenty-Fifth Corps: Brevet Major-General August V. Kautz

 

ARTILLERY: Brevet Major-General Henry J. Hunt

ARTILLERY RESERVE: Brigadier-General William Hays

 

Massachusetts Light, 9th Battery: Captain Richard S. Milton

Horace P. Prescott

 

CAVALRY: Major-General Philip H. Sheridan

ARMY OF THE SHENANDOAH: Brevet Major-General Wesley A. Merritt

 

First Division: Brigadier-General Thomas C. Devin

Third Division: Brevet Major-General George A. Custer

 

Second Division (Army of the Potomac): Major-General George Crook

First Brigade: Brigadier-General Henry E. Davies, Jr.

Second Brigade: Brevet Brigadier-General J. Irvin Gregg

Colonel Samuel B. M. Young

 

Third Brigade: Brevet Major-General Charles H. Smith

1st Maine: Lieutenant-Colonel Jonathan P. Cilley

Lewis Prescott

 

ARMY OF NORTHERN VIRGINIA, CSA

 

General Robert E. Lee, Commanding

First Corps: Lieutenant-General James Longstreet

Second Corps: Major-General John B. Gordon

Third Corps: Lieutenant-General Ambrose P. Hill

Cavalry Corps: Major-General Fitzhugh Lee