24

Meandering with Meade

 

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Real fighting in the Eastern theater in 1863 virtually came to an end after Gettysburg, although the year was but half gone. It was not so in the West. Over the South's feeble rail­roads, most of Longstreet's First Corps was sent to bolster Braxton Bragg fighting Northern General William S. Rose­crans in Tennessee. After the Union defeat at Chickamauga in mid-September, the North made a much larger troop transfer to the Western theater. Also moving by rail, the Eleventh and Twelfth Corps of the Army of the Potomac were sent to Tennessee by a roundabout route in one of the greatest troop movements of the war.

Meanwhile, as a warm September turned into a bracing October, the two armies in Virginia, it almost seemed, grew a bit tired of merely watching each other. About the 7th, Lee's Army started to move north. Meade, fearing some kind of a flanking movement, began to fall back along interior lines in the general direction of Centreville. On the 14th the Pennsylvania Reserves just missed a fight along Broad Run near Bristoe Station. The Reserves, with McCandless in temporary command, were marching on a route parallel with that of the Second Corps, which also had a temporary commander, General Warren, of Round Top fame.

The Pennsylvania division had crossed Broad Run, but the Second Corps was still south of it. The Confederate A. P.

 

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Hill, with his old Mechanicsville impetuosity again ram­pant, thought he had an opportunity to push the Federals. With visions of chasing bluecoats in a manner reminiscent of Bull Run days, the Confederate Third Corps commander ordered a charge. He failed to take into consideration War­ren's soldiers hidden in a railroad cut. Lee called the result a disaster. It was a fine victory for the Second Corps under Warren, who was new to field command. The Reserves, on the far side of Broad Run, had had to duck some artillery fire. They were ordered back across the stream to support the Second Corps. However, that corps had things well in hand. The Rebels had scrambled back, but there were many prisoners to be gathered in.[1]

Though the Bucktails saw practically no fighting while Lee was bluffing Meade in the mid-October maneuvers, they did come in for a good bit of marching. Their regimental historians did their best to record the meanderings of the outfit during those days that the bold Lee was playing tag with the cautious Meade. Almost daily marches were made, some over twenty miles, from the Rappahannock to Fairfax (where they had spent some months earlier that year) and then back to the Rappahannock by November 7. One night the Reserves had bivouacked on the old Bull Run field. One man later wrote of that night: "and we laid down and slept among the bones of our comrades."[2]

With the Reserves on the fringes of the fighting only, a part of Lee's Army still north of the Rappahannock was thrown back across at Rappahannock Station and Kelly's Ford. The Bucktails, the Second Reserves, and some of the other outfits ensconced themselves in snug log huts with shingled roofs, which the Rebels had built for the approach­ing winter. With the chilly rains of November beginning, the men were hoping that they could spend some time in

 

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their comfortable Rebel-built quarters.[3] In this they were ''doomed to disappointment. Official Washington had not been pleased with Meade's accomplishments of the fall. Neither had Meade. He would make one more try before  winter set in.

The Army of the Potomac lay generally northeast of Cul­peper between the Rappahannock and the Rapidan. Lee's camps were to the south around Orange. Meade proposed to cross the lower Rapidan at some unguarded fords, plunge through the rough, thickly-wooded country known as the Wilderness, and reach two parallel roads running west to­ward Orange .[4] While the Reserves did not know these roads, the Orange Turnpike and the Orange Plank Road, the names must have been well-remembered by many a North­ern soldier who had fought at Chancellorsville the May be­fore.

The Fifth Corps was to cross the river at Culpeper Ford. The Reserves started out on the chilly, gray morning of No­vember 24, with Crawford back at their head. Rain soon started to fall, the road turned salvy, and the men were drenched. About 9 A.M. orders came from Sykes to turn back to camp. Two days later they tried again, when the entire Army was set in motion. This time the weather was better. At the ford, Crawford had to wait about three hours, while

the engineers completed the laying of the pontoons. Around noon the Bucktails led the Reserves across the bridge over the Rapidan.[5]

Upstream the Second and Third Corps were being held up in their crossing. Sykes was ordered to detain the Fifth until the two other corps were over. It was three o'clock be­fore the march was finally resumed. That night the Reserves bivouacked near the Orange Plank Road. Early the next morning Sykes pushed his entire corps west along the plank

 

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road, and by nine o'clock had reached a little place called Parker's Store. Beyond this hamlet the Union cavalry di­vision of General David Gregg was skirmishing with troop­ers in gray. Fighting dismounted, which was the only way it could be done in the dense thickets, Gregg drove the enemy horsemen as far as New Hope Church. Here Rebel infantry was spotted. It appeared time for the Union foot soldiers to take over. As soon as Sykes threw out some skirmishers things quieted down.

The Second and Third Corps were still having their diffi­culties, this time in making a junction along the Orange Turnpike, to the right of the Fifth. Meade ordered Sykes to stay any advance, so the corps settled down for another night in the bleak, thick woods. Sometime that night a courier came from the commanding general. The Fifth Corps now had orders to move to the right on a little cross-road which would bring it out on the turnpike to a place known as Rob­ertson's Tavern. It was near there that Meade had decided to concentrate. When morning came, Sykes marched his men.[6]

West of Robertson's Tavern was Mine Run, a stream that had worn a little hollow in the rough land as it flowed north into the Rapidan. West of Mine Run was the Southern Army (both Ewell's and Hill's Corps), digging in behind the stream, which itself was somewhat of an obstacle. Warren's Second and Sedgwick's Sixth Corps were facing the Con­federates on the opposite side of the run. At the urging of Warren, a plan was devised for the Second Corps, with re­inforcements from the Sixth, to move to the Union left and try a flank attack. When the Second moved out, the Fifth took its place beside the Sixth Corps. Sedgwick was to have command of Sykes' men as well as his own. Reconnaissance had convinced Sedgwick that Lee's extreme left, where there were fewer earthworks and slashings, might also be turned.

 

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So the plan for November 30 was a simultaneous attack on  both Southern flanks.

The last day of November early gave promise of sunshine. Sykes wrote that his troops were in high spirits, as they braced themselves for the attack that clear, cool morning. There was the animation of corps rivalry as the Fifth and Sixth waited expectantly for the work to begin. Promptly at 8 A.M. six Union batteries opened. H-hour was one hour later. As the guns boomed, the minutes ticked away. Just be­fore nine, the field telegraph began to click. It sputtered out an order to suspend the attack. The Union guns fell silent. So did the gray guns opposite. The men of the two Yankee corps spent the day waiting, while Lee altered his lines in accordance with what he had learned from the direction of the Federal fire.[7] What had happened was that over on the Union left, War­ren had found the Confederate positions too strong to as­sault. Warren had also had the courage to call off the attack. This he reported to Meade. As Warren's was to have been the main attack, the commanding general had held up the other corps, after he received the discouraging but forthright message from the Second Corps chief.

By nightfall Lee's left was just as formidable as Warren had found his right that morning. The opportunity was gone. The campaign was as good as over. A fiasco, they called it.

The early morning of November 30 had been one of promise, with a red sun rising in the east. As if to reflect the changed spirits of the men, it turned colder that night. The next day dawned gray and freezing. After remaining in their rifle pits all day, late in the afternoon the Bucktails were withdrawn. Moving to the rear, a company at a time, rifles

 

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trailing, the shivering men at last could build a fire. With the twilight, came orders to head back to the Rapidan.[8]

While the Mine Run episode had accomplished nothing, the men could take some comfort in the fact that it had not been costly in casualties. The Reserves lost two killed, seven wounded, and two missing. One Bucktail was wounded.[9] As they recrossed the Rapidan, some of the Reserves might have thought of another December night when they had trudged back over another Virginia river. That time after Fredericks­burg they had been bitter over a battle that had gone bad. This time there probably was little bitterness. This time there had been no tough fighting, just long useless marching and laying around in the damp cold without fires. The men had been in the Army of the Potomac too long to expect any­thing different.

The Bucktails and all the other little outfits tried to forget about the Mine Run business in their speculating as to where they would hole up for the winter. Topside it was not quite so easy to forget. Meade chose to put the blame for the Union failure on General William H. French, the new com­mander of the Third Corps. French had been tardy in get­ting his troops into position. Meade claimed that if the Third Corps had not held things up, he could have hit Lee before the Southern commander could have dug in at a place as formidable as Mine Run had turned out to be.[10] In the Reserves, year's end would see the Eleventh Regi­ment attached formally to the First Brigade with which it had marched and fought since Gettysburg. The Second Bri­gade never had been returned to the division. Crawford's Di­vision consisted of nine little infantry regiments and six batteries of artillery.The Bucktails still had 380 present for duty. Many of the wounded, who had managed to survive, were unable to return to duty. Lieutenant Colonel Niles

 

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tried it and failed. After attempting to recuperate from his Gettysburg wound, Niles rejoined the regiment. He was

troubled so much by the injury that Major Hartshorne held  the active command. Niles would soon have to resign be­cause his leg was not good enough for soldiering any more. [11]

For the most part the men of the First Rifles were what was  left of the original outfit. There had been few replacements in spite of efforts to recruit during the second year of the war. Bounty men and substitutes, now coming into the Army in quite large numbers, were practically unknown to the Re­serves. So about the only changes one could observe in the Bucktail ranks that third winter of the war were in the men themselves. Nearly three years and many battles after the spring of '61, the men were older and wiser. Older and wiser enough to give short shrift to the efforts being made to get them to join up for another hitch, as the end of their term of enlistment approached. At least that was the way the men were thinking that winter of 1863-64, when promises of a month's furlough at home and a roll of greenbacks were dangled in front of them as a reward for re-enlisting. But a few months later many would change their minds.[12]

Governor Curtin, fresh from his election victory, and probably not unmindful of the part the Pennsylvania sol­diers had played in bringing it about, did not forget the Re­serves. As a part of a plan to change the method of obtaining new soldiers from his state, Curtin included a suggestion for filling up the Reserve Corps. Let a brigade at a time be sent back to Pennsylvania to be recruited under the direction of the governor, Curtin proposed to Lincoln. James B. Fry, provost marshal general, could not go along with this sugges­tion. While much of the Pennsylvania governor's new plan was adopted, Andy Curtin's last attempt to fill the ranks of his favorite division was unsuccessful.[13]  The Reserves would

 

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finish out their part of the war, as they had been doing so long, with diminished ranks unfilled.

With Niles unable to do duty and soon to be out of the war for good, young Major Hartshorne, firm-jawed, lean-faced, and shaggy-haired, realized that he was to continue to have his work cut out for him as head of the regiment. This did not deter him from getting a few days leave in mid-Decem­ber to take a bride. Hartshorne was back in time to lead the Bucktails to Bristoe Station and winter quarters. The main work there was guarding a section of the Orange and Alex­andria Railroad from raids by the seemingly ever-present guerrillas.[14]

 In their camp on the south side of Broad Run located on a little knoll overlooking the surrounding countryside, the regiment whiled away the winter days doing their routine chores. Guard duty, especially at night, can get downright monotonous. The soldiers who had to turn out at midnight to picket out along the O. and A. were wont to pull a few tricks on their buddies peacefully sleeping in their little huts. It was some relief for a lonely picket as he stood guard far up or down the track to be able to picture mentally his coughing, cursing comrades crawling out of their warm bunks to remove the board which he had placed over the chimney just before he left. It did not take long for a board so placed to fill the shack with heavy wood smoke. Enough time was required, however, to enable the chuckling soldier to be far away at his post and beyond any proof positive that he had plugged the chimney. Another game which was al­ways good for a little swearing or a few chuckles depending upon whether one was inside or outside the but was a little more difficult. A few cartridges wrapped in paper and care­fully lowered down the chimney on a string to the slacked coals below would always produce an effusion of profanity

 

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from the shack's occupants when the popping started. If the departing picket was skillful enough in his timing he could be within range of the noise but far enough away to escape anything more than gross suspicion.

No particularly perceptive reading between the lines of their regimental history is required to lead one to the belief that during this time some of the boys gave in to the old re­current urge to forage on their own. At least the outfit was accused of the practice, as it had been before, especially when camp life was duller than usual. One also strongly suspects that some of the Bucktails took advantage of other available divertissement that winter along Broad Run. There were sutlers about in whose stores there was at times a clandestine product, which the soldiers designated by a variety of terms: "Oh, be joyful" was one of them. Upon occasion some ex-­lumbermen from the Wildcat District must have brought some of this merchandise, which the men had so descrip­tively named. Apparently the product had more than lived up to its title, as Major Hartshorne saw fit to order all sutlers away from his regiment's camp.

One, too, is forced to the conclusion that certain Buck­tails availed themselves of entertainment other than scrounging and liquor. No loyal regimental historian would ever even indirectly allude to the subject, but the faithful chroniclers of the First Rifles inadvertently referred to the camp followers at Bristoe in such a way, that even a small amount of perspicacity leads one to the conclusion that they had in mind camp followers of the prostitute variety. These also came within Hartshorne's ban.[15]

 Thus the Bucktails waited out the winter and wondered how much fighting they would have to do before the Army would let them go home for good.

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