LETTERS TO THE VINCENNES WESTERN SUN
PROCK'S LETTERS FROM THE EASTERN FRONT (July, 1862, to May, 1868)
Camp of the 14th Indiana Volunteers,
Army of the Potomac, “Gibraltar
Brigade,” Falmouth, Dec. 9, ‘62.
Dear Greene :—The ground is covered with snow, and cold winds sweeping from the north compel the houseless “Gibraltar Brigade” to hover more closely around their huge camp fires—”shelter tents” or “flys” are “no whar” during these “nor’westers”—many are torn to shreds, while others have been blown hellwards (saith the preacher). An order has just been issued to construct winter quarters, to be composed of small cabins, containing not over six men each, covered with the tattered “flys” and oilcloth. The men would have been comfortably housed two weeks ago, but must wait for orders, if they froze —that is according to army regulations. Many horses and mules have perished the past three days for want of shelter. They can be bought for a “mere song”—don’t cost much, and the order to build stables has not been issued. Precious little feeling for man or beast in this or any other “grand army.” We are packed down in between two huge hills— see nothing, hear nothing, know nothing of what is going on in the world with the exception of what can be gleaned from papers a week or two old. We suppose considerable, imagine a great deal, anticipate wonders, swallow yards of “grape vine” reports, dispose of our daily bread in silence, and bitterly curse the day we learned to use tobacco, for that “fragrant weed” cannot be obtained hereabouts—even the old worm-eaten Virginia leaf has “played out.” Patience is a virtue. Time brings changes. Hasten old hoary-headed Father, thou man of the scythe and hourglass, to our assistance! Leave thy watch and sword behind. Let thine arms bear to us, thy famished children, the “dead loads” of “Cavendish” tobacco!
Smoke cures meat. Everything has two sides. Not so—if any man will show me two sides to one of our camp-fires, I’ll “cave.” There is a smoky side, and that is all around. Enough tears are daily shed by the “Gibraltar Brigade” to wash away the sins of a division quartermaster or twenty-five M.C.’s of the last session. A man can cry just as much as he pleases here and not be for a moment suspected of acting baby. I dreamed of being in the -----------yes, the --------- the guard house at Woodstock, Va., last night—thought I was endeavoring to gnaw one of the iron bars composing the window shutters in twain, when all at once one of my molars snapped. The pain roused me, when I discovered that a huge iron-clad Monitor cracker had been thrust into my jaw by some wretch, thereby causing an innocent man a horrible dream of the past and the loss of a valuable grinder.—Verily, “the way of the transgressor is hard”—so is “army bread.”
No hopes of the paymaster till the middle of next year—no, January, 1 should say.
Col. Coons and Alf. Smith are anxiously looked for. A warm welcome from old comrades awaits them.
I must not forget little Johnny Kelly—the brave boy who has been through so many campaigns with the Old Fourteenth. “Wee gaits,” Johnny? Mind your eye!
The “Tiger Tail” mess is no more. The members of that once merry, jovial “section” of Co. “G” are scattered far and wide. None have “gone under” yet, however, and Prock has great hopes the “last trump” will not sound before the “twenty” can enjoy one huge “Martinsburg” together.
Truly yours, PROCK.
Camp of the 14th Indiana Volunteers,
Army of the Potomac, “Gibraltar
Brigade,” Fahmouth, Dec. 19, ‘62.
Dear Greene :—Having lain here idle long enough to allow the rebels to complete their formidable works on the heights south of Fredericksburg, this army was ordered last Wednesday night2s to prepare three days’ rations, &c.
At early dawn Thursday, our batteries opened on the town. The day was passed by the Fourteenth under arms within a mile perhaps of the river.
About four o’clock word was brought that the 7th Michigan had crossed in the pontoon boats and driven the rebel sharp-shooters out of town. The column was put in motion towards the river, but on reaching the level plateau in front of the town, the rebel batteries opened on us, and we were counter-marched again behind the bluff and rested on our arms all night. Early next morning we crossed without opposition and stacked arms near the centre of town, on Caroline street.
Our boys immediately “deployed” for tobacco, and pretty soon an abundant supply was found in a cellar, seized and distributed to the hungry. We passed the whole day on this street—roll call every hour. At night the troops all sought shelter in the houses in front of which they chanced to be placed. The night passed off quietly. A few shots were exchanged by our pickets and the enemy’s skirmishers, but this had never entirely ceased from the moment we entered the town.
Saturday, the 13th, at noon, the 4th and 8th Ohio were sent out as skirmishers, and pretty soon our brigade followed, marching in two ranks in order to cross a narrow bridge over a race, ,just at the outskirts of town. The head of our column had scarcely crossed this when the rebel batteries of rifled thirty-two pounders opened a crossfire on us. The shells fell thick and fast, exploding with deafening roar right in our midst. Shattered, torn and bleeding, our column still pushed on— gained the open ground—drew up in line of battle, and with bayonets fixed, rushed forward to the charge. And such a charge may I never witness again!
Two fences were in front of our regiment. Over these we had to climb—the huge shells exploding above and around us. Gaining the top of a ridge, every foot of which was swept momentarily by the enemy’s artillery, we could see the FIRST LINE of the rebel fortifications in all their strength, still half a mile in advance. We were not in reach of them yet, and men were falling fast. Not a cannon had opened on our side. Still on went the “Gibraltar Brigade,” at a double-quick, and soon were in reach of the rebel infantry, who protected by their rifle-pita, filled the air with minnie balls, while grape and cannister rattled and crashed through our thinned ranks. Here the column paused and opened fire within about three hundred yards of the enemy’s works, and here the “Gibraltar Brigade” held their position till near sun-down, and not one step did that line advance beyond this point—although brigade after brigade was rushed out into this human slaughter pen. Darkness alone closed the scene of bloody strife, and our broken columns fell back and were re-formed in the streets.
Our loss—that is, the loss of Sumner’s Corps, is equal to that at Antietam. The rebels, in my estimation, must have killed about five to one. Our regiment captured two prisoners and that is all I have seen or heard of being taken.
Towards the close of the action, our artillery endeavored to obtain a position, but the pieces were no sooner unlimbered, than a shot from the heights either dismounted the guns or killed men and horses by dozens.
The whole of Sunday and Monday was spent in removing and taking care of the wounded. The dead were left on the field. Sharp shooters from both sides made it a hot place out There.
Monday night we quietly withdrew. Whether all our troops came across or not, I can’t say. A detail has gone over to-day to bury the dead.
Fredericksburg is destroyed, pillaged, and burned.
The following members of Co. G. were wounded: Capt. Patterson, slightly in arm; Corporal Thos. Piety, slightly in right side; Corporal Amos Edmonson, slightly in head; Private Thomas Foster, seriously in neck; Peter Fryer, Michael Mullville and Frank Haggerty, all slightly by shells. Orderly John McClure is missing.
John Hutchins and Corporal Win. Huffman, of Co. B, had their legs torn off by shells.
Weather dreadful cold—no fire in the tent and no place to build one—am devilish near froze.
The loss of our regiment is four killed, seventy wounded, and eight missing.
Yours truly, and freezingly, PROCK.
Camp of the 14th Indiana,
Near Falmouth, Va., Dee. 21, ‘62.
Dear Greene :—A detail of Three men from each brigade in this corps was sent over under flag of truce to bury the dead. William Hill, of Co. G, was one. They found the 13th Mississippi acting as Provost Guard in Fredericksburg. Quite a number of families bad returned to view their desolated homes. Our dead had all been stripped naked, and the rebel cavalry (Virginia) were galloping over the battle-field regardless of where their firey steeds planted their iron shod hoofs. A long ditch was dug, entirely across the field, and in this, three la~yers deep, our brave fellows were placed. The comes were in such an advanced state of decomposition ‘twas impossible to distinguish individuals. Clay Welch, a Sergeant of Co. F, 14th Indiana, and one of the best soldiers in the regiment, was the only one recognized, and that by his name tattooed on his arm. A guard of the 13th accompanied the detail to the field. They were very civil and drove the vicious cavalrymen away with the bayonet. The infantry of both armies are “heavy” on the cavalry, and vice versa.
The sight Fredericksburg and the battle-field presented on the 14th inst. would have made even the old hell-hound, Horace Greeley, cry— Peace!
If I could only occupy the President’s chair one day I would devote the entire twenty-four hours to the hanging of five hundred fools and all the correspondents of the daily New York and Philadelphia papers. To see how a batt]e looks to “a man up a tree” two miles off and half scared to death, to know exactly the day and hour on which Richmond mnst fall, to learn all about the secret movements of the army, and when the “powers that be” are crazy for a battle, thirsting for blood, which must be shed, no matter what the cost, one has only to read the effusion of these “daily specials.” They know all about it before and after—.-in a horn?
Four of our wounded have gone to the hospital—that is members of this company. Corporal Thomas Piety, slightly wounded in side by a shell, and privates Thomas Foster, Peter Fryer and Frank Haggerty, all severely. John Hutchins, of Co. B, is dead. Poor John! He joined the Regular cavalry some time ago, but was ordered back to his company and came up the day before the fight. Such is fate!
Yours, PROCK.
Camp of the 14th Indiana Volunteers,
Army of the Potomac, “Gibraltar
Brigade,” Falmouth, Jan. 8, ‘63.
Friend Greene: Sunrise—guard mountings, drills, reviews, inspections, parades, the “gas bag” at head-quarters swinging in mid air with basket suspended beneath, a human head or two visible above its rim, to catch a glimpse of ye rebel pickets and see that they still continue to wear grey uniforms and carry guns. Sunset—watch-fires innumerable blaze on every hill, their red glare reflecting on the dark pine forest and exposing the erect forms of the sentinels as silent and watchful they pace their beats, the ever-changing but always welcome face of fair Luna, a brigade of bright stars in attendance, her cold rays resting alike on the mound of earth, beneath which sleeps one who has fallen in the bloody strife and fills a hero’s grave, on the bivouac of the sleepless picket guard and on the numerous rude huts composing the camps of the “Right Grand Division,” the flaming torch of our signal corps constantly dipping and waving to and fro. These compose, in part, the daily and nightly exhibitions on the “boards” of this, our theatre of war. The loud, shrill blast of bugles, the incessant roll of drums and screams of fifes, the swelling music of full bands (a few are left) mingled with the piteous cries of thousands of half-starved, half-frozen mules, and the harsh “caw, caw!” of the canon crow as he circles over all, composes our orchestra. Admittance—free. Can’t some of your readers come out and see one of the huge “Anacondas” that is engaged in “crushing the doomed rabbit of rebellion?”
Old Abe’s “free papers” to all, including Africans and the rest of mankind, also the apes, orangoutangs, and monkies in South America caused me an hour’s hearty laugh, two hour’s steady cry, four hours big with mad, and I am swearing in all the languages known to Americans or Europeans, have reached the “long German oaths,” where you have to swallow halt and repeat-a few hearty curses in my “native tongue” are indulged in occasionally by way of relief. I laughed because I am now certain of seeing the old piece of political party, mixed with wool, in an insane asylum at no distant day. I’ll be the visitor— ~‘mind that!” He the “animal” on exhibition. I cried because he did not kill himself when a youth splitting rails on bets. I choked with wrath to think that he has command of the old ship of State for twenty six long months to come—hence the “tall cussin’.”
I see that the 65th Indiana were treated to a dinner in Madisonville, my “old Kentucky home.” Wish Frock had been there to enjoy it with ‘em. They have a lot of prisoners, it seems, in the long, low, brick school-house, where Prock was years ago taught the usefulness of the rod and Rule of Three by one Snow & Sons. “Fond recollections” have I of the days when the boy “marveled,” studied “Loss and Gain,” “Tare and Tret,” wore patched clothes, with a “letter to the post office,” fit any one of his own size, and was afraid to look at the big girls. My aversion to the “mourning color” (black) may be traced to those days. “My boy,” I dreaded “black marks” and my turn to score on the huge black board, the scores being generally transferred to my back, often leaving black stripes thereon; evidences of a smart—boy disinterested people said, but I couldn’t see it! Nearly twenty years have flown, but in connection with those happy, fleeting hours, there is a green spot on memory's tablet time can never eface.
Mention Stuart’s name to one of our sutlers if you wish to see a man turn pale. His always “wide-awake” cavalry is a terror to ye military store-keepers of ye Army of ye Potomac. Our cavalry( like a colt’s tail, is always in the rear, when these daring rebel horsemen make a “raid.”
Frank Haggerty, (Ironsides the boys used to call him) of Co. G, severely wounded at Fredericksburg, is dead.
No intelligence of Orderly John McClure. Poor “Brass!” I am afraid ~re shall never see him more this side of Jordan.
Corporal Robert D’Ewald has an excellent situation as clerk in the Medical Director’s Office at Washington City. Bob’s health was poor, totally unfitting him for field service. Am rejoiced at his success. A No. 1 clerk and a clever fellow is he.
John A Stannis, Orderly Sergeant of Co. B, is promoted to 2d Lieutenant. Also Sergeant Bradford, Co. E. Sergeant Hays, Co. A, is promoted to Captain.
We have a new banner— (old one sent to Indianapolis some time since)—color blue—”Cheat Mountain, Green Bnier, Winchester, and “Antietani” inscribed on it—brought out by Lieut. Col. Coons.
We hope to be relieved before long—there is “sich talk.” “Sumners corps will be relieved soon,” says the New York Herald. ‘Feard ‘tis a “grape vine” or I would “holler powerful.” You have Luck with you always, (my compliments to him) but we are Luck less, and consequently I doubt the Herald’s paragraph.
The old soldiers, the true volunteers, are down on the last batch sent out—especially the “nine months men.” Heard something like the following ‘tother day whilst on picket:
Old soldier, who volunteered for three years—on post-to nine months man, who has straggled from camp! “Halt! Got a pass? None, eh? What regiment? 132d Pennsylvania, are you? Well, see here, you three hundred dollar man, git to camp on ‘double quick.’ The hospital steward is looking for you with a thirty day furlough in his hand. Hump yourself, you Government swindler; take your bounty-full carcass out of my sight!”
Says I: “Guard, what’s the matter?”
“Dam them hirelings!” says he; “I hate them.”
Yours, sitting on Abe’s proclamation, cursing legislation and speculation like damnation, PROCK.
Camp of the 14th Indiana Volunteers,
Army of the Potomac, “Gibraltar
Brigade,” Falmouth, March 8, ‘63.
Dear Greene: March weather—a constant succession of storms, a scarcity of fuel, coupled with a severe round of picket duty, and a grand review of the whole army by General Joseph Hooker have prevented your correspondent from writing sooner, since his return to the inhospitable shoves of the rushing Rappahannock, the region of big guns, bayonets, brigadiers, and blouses, pontoons, patrols, poor horses, pistols, and provost marshals, red tape, runaways, rough usage, and rougher roads. Change, there has been none I can discover, and my “leave of absence” was so danced short that I fell into the regular rounds on my return, scarcely realizing that I had not been performing “daily duty” all the time with the 14th. But that I have been home and seen many friends, who received the soldier with open arms, and left nothing undone that could in any possible way contribute to render his short stay a pleasant—aye, most delightful and agreeable one-is a fact recorded on memory’s tablet, which neither the vicissitudes of war, changes of father Time, nor the fortunes or misfortunes fate may have in store for me can ever eface [sic] - To my friends and acquaintances in Vincennes I return ray most sincere and heartfelt thanks for their cordial welcome home.
On my return to the army, I passed a few days in the Capital of my country. And here I must digress and remind you that the first sight I had of this much-talked-of city of wonders, was just at daylight on the morning of the 27th of August, 1862, out of a bivouac in a huge brier patch, directly opposite the Washington Monument, on the Virgiania shore of the Potomac, with three days’ rations of fat port and wormy crackers in my haversack, and a shirt on I had worn for fifteen days. A short sight it was, too, for the next morning we were at Centreville, thirty miles off, to cover the retreat of Pope’s army. Well, the second view your correspondent bad of this abode of the “Powers that be,” and that stupendous humbug, the Monument, was not under difficulties, and I must admit that, like the Frenchman, I was “very mooch disgust.” As a city it don’t amount to anything. Country town like, there is but one street deserving the name, and the surroundings are anything but what one would be led to suppose those encompassing the Capital of this country should be. Stagnant pools, acres of filth, hospitals, and the barracks of thousands of soldiers and contrabands—the former are perhaps needed to cover the city, and their presence indispensable, but I could not see it—the latter are a nuisance anywhere, even in South America, where they are hairy all over and have claws. Why are not the fifty thousand soldiers I saw between Washington and Cincinnati, 0., sent to the front? Surely we have need for their help out here, to relieve us of incessant fatigue and picket duty. I was glad to escape from this city, overflowing with recklessness, wickedness, corruption, depravity, holiday soldiers, and place hunters; and, I assure you, by no means pleased to think I had sacrificed three days of unalloyed pleasure in Old Post for the same disgust and loathing in Washington.
Col. John Coons is with us again, and in command of the brigade. His wounds have entirely healed.
Gen, Nathan Kimball will be with us no more, having been, so the papers report, assigned to duty in the Southwest. The “Gibraltar Brigade” of the Army of the Potomac feel that they have sustained their greatest loss during the war in the absence of their brave and beloved General, and the man cannot be found that will fill his place in their confidence and affection. Success to the Chieftan wherever he goes!
We had hopes that our brigade, or regiment at least, would be mounted, but guess ‘tis no go. In all probability they will fill us up with drafted men. A rough time of it they will have in the ranks of the 14th.
John P. Conley, of Co. G, has been discharged on account of wounds received at the battle of Winchester. We number now but fifty-three, present and absent, and at least one-third of these will be discharged by the first of May.
Private Adolph Meyer, of this company, who was taken prisoner during the three days’ skirmish on Cheat Mountain, is promoted to Sergeant Major.
I enclose an extract from General Orders No. 18 in which you will see that the old Fourteenth is not, fortunately, mentioned:
Spring is here I suppose, but as there are no trees in sight of our encampment, as a matter of course there are no signs such as blossoms and blue birds to remind us of the change.
Truly yours, FROCK.
Camp of the 14th Indiana Volunteers,
Army of the Potomac, “Gibraltar
Brigade,” near Falmouth, April 8, ‘63.
Dear Greene: Almost incessant storms of rain and snow have so far composed our weather ration for the spring of ‘63—not a blade of fresh green grass, not a bud nor bird visible throughout the encampments of the army of the Potomac. This is one of the most Cheerless days imaginable, without or within quarters ‘tis all the same. A driving storm, half rain half snow, keeps those on duty moving briskly to and fro for warmth, whilst the whirling wind descends the barrel-topped chimneys, filling the eyes of those in quarters with smoke, and rendering their abodes anything but comfortable and fires a nuisance, though ‘tis almost freezing cold.
Gen. Hooker held a grand review, and there has been inspections without end in spite of the inclemency of the weather.
The Irish Brigade celebrated St. Patrick’s day in grand style. The necks of two horses were broken in the hurdle race, the riders escaping with a few slight bruises and most complete coatings of mud.
The greased pig and soaped pole, on top of which was placed a thirty-day furlough, caused an immeasurable amount of amusement to the lookers-on at the catching and climbing—the fun grew fast and furious, “potteen negus” was served out freely, and all worshippers of the “varmint” destroying Saint, and many who were not, enjoyed themselves hugely.
Col. Brooks of the 51st Pa. (not in our Brigade) assumed command of the “Gibraltar Brigade” on Saturday last, and by way of a pleasant introduction, gave us two Brigade drills that day on a high plateau opposite camp during a nor’wester that blew sticks, stones, gravel and clouds of dust into our faces.
Gov. Morton paid us a flying visit. In a short speech to the 14th intimated that our thinned ranks would speedily be filled with conscripts—an unlucky day that for the unfortunates, but a merry one for the qui vie for the half promised sport in store for ‘em.
The order granting leaves of absence and furloughs was revoked on the 26th of March, and no more were to be granted after the let of April, but on the 2d of April ‘twas again renewed, and officers and soldiers can as heretofore take a flying trip home. Adjutant Bailey took advantage of the last five days of grace and paid a visit to Washington, where he informs me he had the honor of being present at the wedding of Corporal Robert D’Ewald, of Co. G, 14th Indiana Volunteers, and Miss Mary Poman, of Vincennes. Success attend the corporal and his fair partner in their journey through life!
I am indebted to Bob for a neatly-written copy of “The Pleasures of Life by one who has enjoyed it,” which I enclose to you, friend G. I trust the Corporal will profit by the lessons contained therein.
Whilst on guard duty one evening not long since near the Lacy House, on the river bank, directly opposite Fredericksburg, your correspondent, impelled by curiosity perhaps more than ought else, attended prayer meeting in that establishment. The dwelling, a fine two-story brick, was occupied last June by General McDowell as his head-quarters. “Twas at that time surrounded by a neatly-painted fence, and many beautiful and stately trees besides lilac and rose bushes and other ornamental shrubbery were scattered throughout the grounds which were laid off in gravelled walks, beds of choice flowers, &c. None of these are left; the trees and fence have been used for firewood; the shrubbery torn up and flower beds trampled under foot. Stores belonging to the Sanitary Committee occupy one wing of the house under charge of Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Beck, two widow ladies. The headquarters of the River Picket Guard are in the other wing. The committee furnish the soldiers with hot gruel and onion soup every day; our boys call it, “Slopping the Pickets.” Prayer meetings are held every evening at 7 o’clock by the committee, and all officers and soldiers not on duty at that hour are invited to attend and take part in the devotions.
Saw a brigade drill of the rebels, three regiments, and about seven hundred men each; also a dress parade in Dixie. They manoeuvre and handle their arms well, but the variety of colors exhibited in their habiliments (cannot call them uniforms) presented a most grotesque and ludicrous appearance, no two being dressed alike jli a whole regiment. Quite a crowd of the motley crew were engaged in a game of ball, and occasionally a bevy of damsels of an uncertain age would come down to the rebel picket line and take a long look at the Federal vedettes pacing their beats on the “sacred soil.”
Jeff rather got the start of Abe in the fasting, prayer, and thanksgiving proclamation—they are ahead of time in Dixie.
The town-clock in Fredericksburg is full thirty minutes faster than our time; its heavy deep-toned strokes ringing out on the still frosty night air remind the soldier of home, and “Life and times during days (and nights) gone by” in old Vincennes.
No letters or papers received from Old Post since my return to the army. ‘Spose the boys are so badly scared at the idea of being drafted that they have forgotten everything and every body else. Please send me a back number or two of your paper.
President Lincoln and his spouse are the guests of General Joe Hooker, and will review the cavalry of the Army of the Potomac to-day.
I cannot close this epistle without congratulating my old post-office chum, the “General,” on his extraordinary good fortune-am told that through the influence of Capt. P., of Westport, he has obtained a commission as “Grand Teaser,” and transportation furnished for three. Wonder who he will appoint as acting Aides-de-Camp? Guess I could name ‘em, but I won’t. Dr. Cauet will no doubt cheerfully ferry the trio over the Wabash free of charge, and bid them God speed on their journey to Brigham’s dominions. To my certain knowledge, those three have embraced everything but Mormonism.
Capt. Patterson arrived on Friday last looking well, and is on picket duty to-day.
Lieut. Van Dyke is expected to-morrow night with “good news from home” for some of us.
Sutler’s prices, like crinoline, have an upward tendency—fresh oysters 50 cents a quart; fresh sausage 40 cents per pound; butter 60 cents per pound; eggs 60 cents per dozen, and very weak whiskey only two dollars per pint!
The soldiers quartered here have, in addition to their regular rations, an abundance of fresh herring, caught by themselves in the Rappahannock.
Since I last wrote six of Co. G have been discharged on account of disability and wounds. We now number forty-six, including twelve absent —of whom at least six will be discharged soon.
A subscription to raise funds for the purpose of purchasing a sword to be presented to Major Win. H. French, is in circulation—the sword to be purchased and presented by the officers and soldiers of this regiment.
Truly yours, PROCK.
U.S. Ford, Rappahannock River,
Wednesday, May 6, 1863.
Dear Greene: Leaving camp early on the morning of the 28th of April, we marched eight miles to this Ford—next morning we went on picket, and caught two (not rebs) but oppossums, and swallowed a few yards of a very heavy “grape vine,” which I will not relate here. At 4 P.M. we crossed the river and marched to within a mile-and-a-half of Chancellorville, on a road leading to Bowling Green—passed the night in a large corn field, spreading our blankets right down in the mud and mire. Our spring campaign had begun in earnest. At four A.M., as the drummers were preparing for revielle, a roar of artillery and the sharp crack of rifles in our advance, rendered other music unnecessary to arouse the sleeping soldiers. Breakfast hastily disposed of, there was a thorough inspection of arms and ammunition.
At 2 P.M. we moved down the road to Chancellorville to Within half a mile of where the fighting was going on, when the brigade was countermarched back to its old position in the open field, and again slept on their arms.
All of the next day was spent in shifting around, changing positions, chopping timber, and digging rifle-pits—the battle raging with terrific fury on our right and left, particularly on the right, where towards night the Eleventh Corps were driven back a mile or more in great disorder and confusion—some regiments throwing away nearly all their arms, and one “making tracks” without firing a shot.
During the entire night of Saturday, May 2d, a tremendous racket was kept up—trees falling in all directions—the dull, grating sound of pickets and spades mingling with the sharper strokes of the axe—the incessant pop! pop! of pickets, and at intervals a crash of musketry from a whole division, followed by the heavy boom of a battery, and the hissing, whizzing and bursting of shells—whilst above and over all the bright, full moon looked calmly down upon the scene of strife. Not a wink of sleep for any soldier that night, save the sleep that knows no waking. At day-light the musketry increased to one long, continuous roar.
At 7 o’clock three regiments of the “Gibraltar Brigade,” the Fourth Ohio, Seventh Virginia and Fourteenth Indiana, marched into the woods directly in front of General French’s headquarters, and engaged the enemy in the centre. ‘Twas a severe contest, but the rebels, soon finding the woods too hot, retreated to their rifle-pits.. Our boys speedily drove them out and across the Fredericksburg and Gordonsville pike or plankroad, when a rebel battery opened on their flank, and a second line of gray coats appeared four ranks deep, and opening a tremendous fire compelled the brigade to fall back—which was done in excellent order, till our support coming up the brigade was withdrawn to our own rifle-pits, where the rebels shelled us for half an hour, severely wounding several.
Your correspondent was struck with a minnie ball. Passing through my boot it lodged against the side of my foot, severely bruising my heel, and rendering it impossible for me to wear boot or shoe for a week to come. Thankful ‘tis no worse.
Am scribbling this on a drum head in the rebel entrenchments, thrown up to prevent our troops from crossing the Rappahannock.
More anon. Truly, yours, PROCK.
P.S.—The following are the casualties in Co. G: Killed—Adam Shultz. Wounded—Corporal Piety, slightly; Corporal Lynn, slightly; Louis Sattler, left hand; Michael Shank, severely in Thigh. Prock.