Fulfilling a Dream: Francis Harris's Civil War Story, Part 6 (1864)

Welcome to another installment of the Civil War story of Union Private Francis Harris of the 12th New Jersey Infantry, based on his extensive unpublished letters and diary entries. At the end of my last installment, in Feb. 1864, both he, and the cause he had been fighting for for a year and a half, were at a crossroads. The good news was that he had quickly recovered from his shoulder wound at the Battle of Chancellorsville in May 1863, followed by two hospital stays (one for recovery, and one as a medical assistant and letter writer for patients) and a much-needed 40-day furlough with his wife and small children (back on their farm in Pittsgrove, New Jersey). After his second hospital stay in Washington, he had had a very emotional reunion, in Sept. 1863, with his comrades and younger brother in the 12th, at their camp in central Virginia.

The bad news had taken three forms. The first form was personally, for his family. The strain on his wife (of raising the kids and managing the farm in his long, and seemingly indefinite, absence) had, by early 1864, resulted in a tough decision: to turn over the farm to another brother, Charles (with whom he seems to have had a cool relationship). Maggie had, first of all, to move in with Francis’s parents, and secondly, to place her oldest (Henry) with an unrelated family nearby. The second bad news was for Francis himself. While he certainly enjoyed being back with his friends and brother, and hadn’t seen any more combat, the months since his return in Sept. 1863 had been increasingly slow and dull, especially after the army that contained the 12th, the giant Army of the Potomac, now under Gen. Meade, had by December settled into a second long boring winter camp. He was a hardened veteran now, but he was still only halfway through his 3 years of enlistment as a volunteer, and already so many comrades had been died, from combat, and even more from disease, or had been sent home with some sort of disability. The 12th was now less than half the size it had been when it had been organized in Aug. 1862. Francis Harris, despite his passionate belief in the moral superiority of the Union and in the need to destroy slavery, was beginning to count down his remaining time in the service, more and more. Especially because the war did not seem to be going all that well…

Which leads to the third, and broadest, category of bad news: that, at least where he and the 12th were, in the East (east of the Appalachians), there seemed, despite the human cost, to have been no progress toward victory at all, despite an important, (and for the 12th, and its comrades in its army) costly, victory at Gettysburg in July 1863. Meade and his shrewd Confederate opponent, Gen. Robert E. Lee (and his Army of Northern Virginia) had, since Gettysburg, maneuvered in fits and starts around each other, each side looking, in vain, for an opportunity to inflict serious damage. In early 1864, the Army of the Potomac was just as far from capturing the Confederate capital of Richmond, and destroying Lee’s army, as it had been a year, or even two years, earlier. On top of that, in Nov. 1864 there would be another presidential election. There had been a series of major Union victories further west, but defeating Lee and capturing Richmond were what counted as ultimate victory for most Northerners. Unless Pres. Lincoln could show real military progress in the East, he might not even get renominated by his Republican Party, let alone get reelected in November!

Cropped photo of Gen. Ulysses Grant, taken by Edgar Guy Fowx at Cold Harbor, VA (a few weeks after the Battle of the Wilderness); Library of Congress

For that reason, Lincoln took an important gamble at this point. He had been impressed with Gen. Ulysses Grant from the latter’s first big victory (and the first for the Union side), the capture of an entire enemy army at Ft. Donelson, Tennessee, in the spring of 1862. Despite subsequent setbacks, Grant had pulled off the capture of an even larger army at Vicksburg, also splitting off the three Trans-Mississippi states from the rest of the Confederacy. He had followed that up by the rescue of another Union army, trapped in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in Nov. 1863. Lincoln’s gamble, in Mar. 1864, was to promote Grant (before he had even met him!) to supreme command of all the Union armies (Congress gave him a rank that had been held by only one American officer before- none other than George Washington).

Now Grant was heading east to Washington, to meet Lincoln and his cabinet (on Mar. 8), and to aim for the decisive victory in Virginia that had eluded so many predecessors. To that end, he chose to take field command of the Army of the Potomac and to lead it himself against Lee’s army. As many have pointed out, then and since, in essence the Union first-string commander would now take on the enemy’s. The risk was very high; if Grant failed, even if all of the other army movements he ordered at the same time had some success, his own career would collapse, since Lincoln very likely would not win reelection in November, and the opposition Democrats were showing signs that they were willing to recognize the Confederacy. Grant took one other vital step: he ordered a grand spring offensive, putting all Union armies into motion at once- most importantly that of his close friend Sherman, who was now leading Grant’s old army from Chattanooga south, aiming to capture Atlanta, a crucial industrial and transportation hub. Grant came to the Army of the Potomac on the 10th; its commander, Meade, offered to resign. But Grant, wholly unfamiliar with this army and with the situation in Virginia, chose to keep Meade in charge. At first, as he grappled with the double challenge of being both the supreme Union commander and the local boss as well, he would leave decisions to Meade as much as possible.

All of these grand events had no noticeable impact on Harris and his unit for many weeks to come (bad weather also long delayed any movement of their army). Francis carried on with routine: drilling and parading, earning some extra income by making bone rings for fellow soldiers, attending prayer meetings, and writing long homesick letters to his family (“I will close and go to bed. Have to sleep alone. It makes me think of home. I am getting tired of this way of living. We will have to fight it out. I hope we can do it soon. Pray fervently that I may be spared through this conflict Maggie. I commit myself to him hoping to get through all right…”- Letter 3/27/64). The unit also received its first significant group of new recruits in many months. His main concern in March was that one of his best friends, Smith Clark, was hospitalized, emaciated by some undiagnosed illness (he was soon sent home, where he recovered, and was released from the war). Francis was also worried about an outbreak of a contagious disease back in New Jersey (his son Henry was ill for a time, and his wife also had eye problems), and inevitable money problems continued (as wartime inflation ate into his pay). Grant was very busy with the reorganization and preparation of his new army, but the only changes Harris perceived was that the 12th was transferred into a new division, with a new commander (John Gibbon, one of the best in the whole Union Army).

By mid-April, with the onset of spring, there were the usual resplendent reviews of the troops by the generals, starting with Gibbon and Hancock, the II Corps commander. Harris and his comrades were deeply angered by the news of the Fort Pillow Massacre out in Tennessee, that the Confederates had “butchered our men like hogs…our soldiers both white and black” after they surrendered. On Apr. 22, he finally got to see Grant in person, at a review of 40,000 soldiers (amusingly, he said there were enough troops to “make one of Amis Lloyds fields about full”!). Francis described Grant for his wife: “He is a smallish man with profused dark beard. Black eyes and hair. Set errect in his saddle, and general appearance very common; more like a farmer than any other appearance.” (Letter) By the end of April 1864, with the days warming and the mud drying, it was clear that there would be fighting again soon. It would be known to later historians as the "Wilderness Campaign”, the first round in a series of battles (now known as the "Overland Campaign").

Grant’s plan was actually little different from that of Hooker and his Chancellorsville Campaign a year earlier, and it covered the same section of central Virginia. Basically the Army of the Potomac would, as swiftly as possible, cross the Rappahannock and Rapidan Rivers above Fredericksburg, moving south toward Richmond and thereby drawing Lee’s army out of its fortified winter camp to the west. The Union route would go straight through the old Chancellorsville battlefield and on through the same dark brushy tangle known as “the Wilderness”. This time Lee was fully aware of the move, as he had a signaling station on top of a nearby mountain with a clear view of Grant’s 118,000 men. He responded quickly and decisively, moving two of his three large units (army corps) immediately to the east on parallel roads to intercept, while the third (Longstreet’s), which was farthest away, was also ordered to move in the same direction (thus acting as a kind of reserve).

Opening movements of the Wilderness Campaign (Union in blue, 12th NJ in Hancock's II Corps; Confederates in red). Map by Hal Jespersen, www.posix.com/CW, 2010.

The 12th, with Harris and everyone else in apparent good spirits, moved quickly across the rivers on May 4, back to the site of their first major combat (and defeat) in May 1863. Harris wrote to his wife from his camp that night: “Now marks of the fight is seen but broken trees and limbs by shot and shell. How natural the woods where I got wounded and the field where we lay to days and lost our Knapsacks. I hope we will not see another such conflict.”

1864 photograph of skulls (from the previous Battle of Chancellorsville, May 1863) in the Wilderness, Virginia- possibly taken by G.O. Brown- from The Photographic History of The Civil War in Ten Volumes: Volume Three, The Decisive Battles. The Review of Reviews Co., New York. 1911. p. 21.

He continued, reassuring her that, this time, he would not be in the thick of the imminent battle: “You must not be uneasy about my wellfare, but pray the Lord to spare my life. L[ieutenan]t assured me yesterday that he did not want me to get into fight but would make arrangements with Dr. Millar to have me to pass to the rear. I want him to make arrangements that I may help take care of the wounded. Rob [his brother] and I are both well…”. (Letter 5/4/64)

But, from that point, Grant’s and Meade’s plan rapidly unraveled on May 5. The Union army moved too slowly, and would still be in the thickets, where its superior artillery and numbers couldn’t be used properly, when Lee, moving faster than the Union leaders expected, was ready to strike. Grant had sent most of his cavalry away under its new general, Sheridan, and the few horsemen that he still had failed to provide him with warning that Ewell’s and Hill’s corps were about to strike the exposed Union flank. Grant only realized the danger at the last minute, ordering his units to turn west and to attack Ewell and Hill as they approached. For the 12th, this crisis just meant a lot of confusing marching around on dirt roads in the thick woods, with no combat until mid-afternoon. Gibbon then sent his division, the 12th included, smashing into Hill’s men. The attack got off to a bad start because the 12th couldn’t see the enemy in the brush until it was hit by a blast of gunfire. Gen. Alexander Hays, who had been the unit’s division commander at Gettysburg, was killed. Harris described what happened in a post-battle letter: “The head of our Column reached and found the rebs at this cross roads called the “Wilderness” about 3 oclock P. M. Thursday the 5th when the struggle commenced. Then untill dark it was fearful and heavy. All Musketry, no cannon used but two or three shots by our side. Our Brigade reached the scene at 4 oclock and pushed right in front Then Lt Phipps gave me his gum coat and told me to go to the rear, which I did with reluctance not that I like fighting but did not know how to leave the boys when the time came. I assisted the wounded but liked to get hit twice with the balls that came over from the Rebs sharp shooters. After dark when the fighting seaced I went in to the boys who had advanced some distance in the woods where we lay in line all night.” (Letter 5/9/64) The Union attack was quite successful; only darkness prevented the collapse of Hill’s corps. Hancock, the overall corps commander, expected to complete the victory the next day, and ordered a new attack at dawn. That day would see the heaviest fighting of the battle for the 12th.

The unit and its companions got little sleep; Harris told his wife that the men were up for breakfast at 3 a.m., and at first light (5 a.m.) advanced against Hill’s corps, driving it back for about a mile. One Confederate soldier wrote, “It looked as if things were past mending.”

Union attack, including 12th NJ (part of Carroll's brigade, Gibbon's division), on May 6, 1864- Map by Hal Jespersen, www.CWmaps.com, 2015

But then, at about 7 a.m., catastrophe struck, when Longstreet’s fresh corps, led by a brigade of Texans, suddenly appeared and crashed into Hancock’s Union force, catching it completely by surprise. What took place next was one of the most romanticized events of the war (for the Confederate side):

“Suddenly gray-clad troops pounded up the plank road from Lee's rear. "General, what brigade is this?" Lee inquired of an officer. "The Texan brigade," came the answer, which told Lee that Longstreet had arrived at last. He jerked his hat from his head and shouted, "Texans always move them!" Under the moment's excitement, Lee began advancing with the foremost troops. When the men realized that Lee was with them, they stopped and refused to budge until he went to the rear.” (nps.gov)

Longstreet's counterattack, resulting in retreat of 12th NJ (in Carroll's brigade)- Map by Hal Jespersen, www.CWmaps.com, 2015

The 12th New Jersey was hit by Kershaw’s veteran division of Longstreet's, and was driven back to the breastworks they had built to guard their camp of the night before. Harris was again sent to the rear (presumably to tend wounded), but he recorded what happened, both in his diary and a letter to Maggie:

“When our men fell back the regiment got all mixed up but rallied behind our breast works (3 lines of works) and awaiting the coming of our enemies. Soon afternoon they charged on our left but were repulsed with heavy loss then about 5 oclock they tried the center where part of our Reg[iment] was and with eagerness determined to break through. The fighting was fierce and long. This attempt lasted one hour and three quarters. I guess the hardest musketry ever was known. The wind was against us, and they set fire to their woods and came up under the cover of the smoke. When the fire reached our first works it set them on fire and our men had to leave and fall back past us and left us in front. The Road stopped the progress of the fire. The Rebs were close on our boys heels. As soon as our men fell back our Brass Artillery opened on the rebs with grape and canister. Fact the Rebs where so near that they could not waited for our men to all get passed and killed four of our men at the first shot. We fought like tigers untill our Works caught fire by our wood from our guns, as every thing was very dry and our breast works were made principly of rotton logs. The Rebs came and set up their flag right in front of us but we fired so fearfully that their men could not rally around it. When our second works took fire we we were on a stand what to do. All of a sudden like Magic they yelled to charege the scoundrells and with a oneness our Columns moved forward and such hollowing [hollering] I never heard. The Rebs could not stand it, so left quick. This charge saved our works. The Rebs tried no more that day. The rebs lost a great many. We lost a very few. We lay behind the works all night…” (Letter 5/9/64)

Harris, quite understandably, exaggerated the positives and downplayed the crisis in informing his wife. In fact, though the 12th held initially (despite its commander, Lt. Col. Davis, suffering the first of two wounds) into the afternoon, in the second enemy charge (at about 4:30-5 p.m.), its companion unit on the right, the 14th Connecticut, apparently collapsed, just as it had done at Chancellorsville in the same woods a year earlier. At that point Harris says simply that he “participated” in the combat. Francis’s own Co. A, already sadly diminished, lost 2 dead, 4 wounded, and 2 missing. Brigade commander Samuel Carroll and Lt. Col. Davis suffered severe wounds. The most painful loss, according to the modern historian of the 12th, was the death of its Color Sergeant, Cheeseman, chosen, for his bravery (“hero of Gettysburg and Bristoe”) and reliability, to guard the regimental flag (the emotional symbol of the unit, and, for practical purposes, the visual signal of where soldiers should gather). In this war that one man could be “the heart and soul” of a regiment.

By evening the shattered Union lines were reinforced, and the men of the 12th were able to collapse in exhaustion behind their log breastworks. The heaviest fighting in this chaotic Battle of the Wilderness, fought in widely scattered places and with minimal visibility, was now over, except for the particularly gruesome aftermath mentioned by just about everyone: that the woods caught on fire, engulfing an untold number of wounded of both sides. The next day, the 7th, was a relative lull, as both armies and their commanders tried to understand the outcome. The 12th had been broken into at least two groups (Harris’s, on the 7th, found the rest about a mile and a half from where his group spent the night of the 6th). In point of fact, Grant, in his first Eastern battle, had first been caught off guard, and had then responded aggressively, only to have his army be surprised and driven into retreat by Longstreet’s arrival. Most fortunately for the Union side, right at the point of Confederate breakthrough (and confusion), at noon on the 6th, Longstreet had been hit and seriously wounded by a volley from his own men. But the Army of the Potomac had lost 18,000 killed, wounded and missing, over just a few days, compared to 8,000 on Lee’s side.

What counted at this point was what Grant did next. The men of his army could not, in the aftermath of the Wilderness, see much difference from the Chancellorsville experience in the same woods- which is to say that, while they had often fought well back then too, they knew that that previous battle had ended in a humiliating retreat. In fact Grant never felt that he had been defeated. Through orders to Meade, he immediately put his army into motion- to the south, away from Lee and on towards Richmond, aiming for a strategic crossroads at Spotsylvania Courthouse. When his men realized what he was doing, and that they were not going back north of the Rappahannock as they had done so often under other generals, those that encountered Grant (which did not include Harris) cheered him as they never had before. Harris noted simply: “Our boys were in good spirits though very much fatigued.”

In hindsight there was much more tragedy in store, starting with Lee’s army making it to Spotsylvania first, and in time to build the kind of fortifications that, by now in the Civil War, usually meant certain doom for attackers. Grant was going to continue to engage Lee in a series of back-to-back massive battles, the Overland Campaign, which amounted to another 7 weeks of almost incessant bloodshed. But the majority of his men had now been inspired by the idea, a bedrock faith, that Grant had created in them. That idea was, if they survived, one that would get them through this ordeal: that they were now in the true fight to the finish, and that they, the 12th and all the other units of the Union Army of the Potomac, would in the end win this brutal war at last.

That's it for this installment, fair readers! While there is much more drama to come for the war as a whole and for the 12th New Jersey, Francis Harris's own part in the Civil War is nearing its end. But more excitement to come, for sure!