At the battle of Deep Bottom the regiment went into the fight with 175 muskets; after the fighting was over, only eighty men had been [p. 9] left uninjured. Some of the bravest men in our company lost their lives at Deep Bottom. At one time during a desperate charge of the enemy a part of the Union line was forced back, and our regiment, maintaining its position, was raked by a most deadly cross-fire. The enemy seemed determined to capture the colors; and color-bearers were shot down almost as fast as brave men could spring forward and pick them up. But there seemed to be no lack of men in our and other companies to give away their lives for the dear old flag. While attempting to plant his flag on the rebel works, Sergeant Keek fell badly wounded; but Sergeant Fellows, close by his side, held his own flag in one hand and with his other hand grasped the falling colors and waved them triumphantly aloft.

James K. Himes sprang forward and said, “Give me that flag!” Taking it in his hands, he shouted, “Come on, boys!” and led the regiment. A bullet struck him in the breast and passed through his right lung, inflicting a mortal wound. He fell forward upon his face, and had just time to gasp, “Charley, I die for my country,” when his brave spirit took flight.

There was a slight-built boy in our company with nerves of steel and great powers of endurance, who never even took his ration of rum in the malarious districts of the Carolinas. ….. He was a lovely Christian youth, who never missed a day’s duty or a single battle. His name was Abbott C. Musgrove. ….. It was sure and certain death to any one who should dare to raise the flag again; but, without a moment’s hesitation, this youth once again raised it on high. A bullet crashed through his brain, and he said, “I die happy.” The boys managed to carry him from the field and, wrapped in his suit of blue, they laid him away in a narrow grave, and many were the tears that were shed.

In this terrible struggle we suffered nearly an irreparable loss. Captain Smith, who had hitherto shared with the company in all its perils, and originated and led it in many daring and successful undertakings, received various wounds. His arm was shot to pieces, and he escaped with his life by the narrowest chance. He was unable to do further service. ….. George Van Der Cook lost his arm; George Houghtaling was wounded and captured; Ambrose Fowler and others were wounded. The flags were saved from capture but with much difficulty and at a great cost.

Source: J. H. Clark, “Our Chivalry in Blue: A Story which Thrills; The Way the Regiments Were Raised; The Men Who Composed Them; Fate of the Boys of a Company of the 115th N.Y.,” pp. 5-10, in New York Tribune Co., ed., True Stories of the War for the Union: Personal Experiences and Observations of Union Soldiers in the Several Campaigns. New York: The Tribune Association, 1893, 110 pp. This book consists of reminiscences which had been published in the New York Tribune. Although Clark did not identify which of the Deep Bottom actions he was describing, he mentions the regiment’s presence at The Crater, leaving 2nd Deep Bottom as the action described.

11th Maine Infantry

“ [p. 70] Whitneyville, Me, July 11. -The scenes I am about to portray occurred near the close of a three years’ term in active service as a private soldier and non-commissioned officer of the 11th Maine. At the time of which I write I was no novice in warfare, and was not easily startled by the sound of bullets or the roar of artillery. I had passed through the Peninsular campaign from Yorktown to Harrison’s Landing, under McClellan; participated in the bombardment of Charleston under Gilmore and Hunter; and shared the fortunes of Butler’s troops from City Point to Bermuda Hundred, Fort Darling, Strawberry Plains [1st Deep Bottom] and Deep Bottom. The incidents which I shall relate arte more vividly remembered than previous scenes, because they occurred nearer the close of my service.

Since our return to Deep Bottom at the close of a ten hours’ fight at Strawberry Plains, July 26 and 27, we had performed various duties such as usually fall to the lot of the common soldier. On the night of August 12 we became a part of the picket out at the front.

A few hours previous to our departure for picket duty several of the 11th who had been home on sick furlough returned. Among them was Charley Crann, of Company C. Charley was a good soldier, and, in the best of spirits, marched with us to the picket line. Through the night his recital of stories connected with home was listened to by an appreciative and longing audience.

At dawn we were ordered to roll our blankets and “fall into line.” Everything had been unusually quiet, and there was no thought of an advance. But when the line was formed, we were deployed facing toward the enemy, whose outer line was not 500 yards away. At the command “Forward!” we moved on at a quick pace, which soon brought us from the woods into a slashing of small pine trees. We could see nothing except withering brush on every hand, which gave forth a peculiar odor. No sound was heard save the subdued commands of the officers and the rustle of the dry leaves beneath our feet.

At the farther edge of the slashing, in pits secreted by brush, the rebels lay in waiting. When we had cleared the shelter of the forest they opened fire with unerring aim. Charley Crann was the first to fall dead; he had visited his home for the last time. Corporal McGinnis and Private Beedle were next in Company C to give their lives for their country. The weight of the fire came upon Companies C and I. Company C lost sixteen men our of thirty-two; Company I fared even worse. Major Baldwin and Captain Sabine also fell. In five minutes forty men had been killed or wounded in the regiment; and we had scarcely fired a gun.

This was the initiatory skirmish which began a fight of several days’ duration. The line was [p. 71] slightly reinforced and a charge captured or routed the rebels from their pits. [Clearly, he refers to the rifle pits of the Confederate picket line, not their main line.] We followed the enemy closely and they were driven into a second line of works much stronger than the first, being forts and redoubts connected by rifle pits. We skirmished against them the greater part of the day, when they were finally routed by a flank movement.

What followed after this is remembered only as a continual skirmish until August 16, at which time we drove in the pickets at Deep Run. [Her refers, not to the fight at Deep Run on the road leading to White’s Tavern, in which Miles’ brigade was initially engaged in support of the cavalry, but rather to the Confederate works in the neighborhood of Fussell’s Mill, along Bailey’s Creek, which I have occasionally seen referred to in Federal accounts as Deep Run.] We lost several men, but continued our forward movement until we drew near the main fortifications. A halt was then ordered to rectify the line, and then a terrible yell was raised to the right, which was taken up and intensified for us. A quick, forward movement began with the yell. Wee soon reached the edge of the woods, at the border of which was a deep ravine. Across this, about seventy-five yards distant, lay the rebel works in full view, lined with broad-brimme3d white hats, each one of which shaded a gleaming gun barrel pointing toward our position. A rebel flag lazily floated from a small staff in the works.

As we came in sight the rebel muskets gave out a roar, accompanied by a rush of kissing, stinging, sounds; and the little red twigs which grow from the ground suddenly became redder and toppled over as if swept by a strong wind. [I suspect he refers to the plant commonly referred to in the South as “sourweed,” which grows in reddish stalks about six to eight inches high, usually in sandy soil. When chewed, the stalks give off a juicy sour taste which is quite thirst-quenching.] The terrible roar continued without cessation until I thought every man in the path of the storm leveled to the earth except myself. Soldiers were being struck and were crying out in every direction. Dress coats were perforated, and wads of cotton, twisted out, were flung around like thistle down. As we attempted to enter the ravine, it seemed as if we were literally being held back by the hail of lead and iron which was hissing by and bounding from the trees with a peculiar hum, known only to those who have been under fire. [A ricochet does have a distinctive sound.] It being evident in my mind that we could not cross with our present force, I jumped behind a large oak tree for protection. An intense hatred of that rebel flag which seemed so near took possession of men, and I could not resist firing at it. I actually wasted three shots upon it before I came to my senses.

The white hats were flapping before me as the enemy hurriedly loaded and fired. The sight soon brought me to effective work. I then noticed that my comrades were not all dead, but, like myself, had sheltered themselves behind trees, and the bullets were not all going one way. I imagined I could begin to see a thinning of the rebel works, when the order came to “fall back,” for what reason I did not know. I felt very uncomfortable behind my tree. I “fell iu” and moved back with the rest a few yards distant.

ANOTHER RUSH AT THE WORKS

After half an hour the line again started with a yell; and we joined in the chorus with such vigor that the pineries of Maine were thereupon conceded a superior locality for the manufacture of lung power. When we had regained our old position, the rebels were beating “tattoo” with their heels upon the tails of their gray coats. We gave them a volley to increase the speed, and plunged across the ravine with the velocity of deers, all the while yelling like demons. The works were ours, and the yell suddenly changed to a regular New England cheer.

We had scarcely time to recover our breath before several rebel batteries opened form a position far beyond our vision, and the shells came roaring through the trees and scooping up the earth in a manner most uncomfortable to us. Half an hour late a lull took place in the firing. Looking beyond the work which we occupied, I saw a number of dead and wounded rebels. The wounded were anxious to leave their exposed position, and were waving hats and handkerchiefs to attract our attention. I jumped over the pit and spoke with a wounded rebel lad of not more than sixteen. His right leg was broken, and his tongue swollen from thirst. I lifted him gently from the ground and placed him in the bottom of the pit, after which I straightened his leg and bolstered the wounded part with his blanket. He begged for water, and I gave him a drink form my canteen; and with assurances that he should be cared for if we continued to hold our position until night, I turned to leave him. He called me back, and with a look of wonder asked me if I was a Yankee.

Unusual activity of railroad trains had been indicated by the constant tooting of whistles in Richmond for several hours. [They were clearly too far away to be able to hear the trains at Richmond, but were possibly close enough to hear them on the Richmond and Petersburg Railway in the neighborhood of Chester Junction. Given the nature of all the activities related by the author, however, I suspect that this account is fanciful.] The nature of the work in which they had been employed was made manifest by the appearance of solid masses of troops at the edge of the woods, and the gleam of bayonets through openings in the forest in various directions. Rumor said that our supports had been withdrawn, and were already on the way to Petersburg. The evidences of fresh arrivals of rebels in Richmond caused considerable uneasiness. Doubts were freely expressed as to our ability to hold our position until the approach of darkness would enable us to withdraw in safety. [The author does not mention the work to reverse the Confederate works, which clearly was done, at least in places along the captured line.]

EXPERIENCES UNDER FIRE.

A heavy force of rebels now attached the brigade which supported our left with great fury and drove it from the line. This movement exposed our left flank to a terrible crossfire.

Batteries which were stationed beyond the range of our muskets in front and flank redoubled their efforts against us. Shells screeched, sputtered and crashed through the trees, and bounded along the earth. Bullets sang and whistled about us, and gave a peculiar thud as they severed human bones and laid low good and brave men. Hard pine trees, seventy and eighty feet high, which stood around the works [I am of the impression that this was all pretty much second growth timber, and it is extremely doubtful if any pines or other trees would have been anywhere near that tall.], were stropped of bark and limbs the entire length as completely as could have been done by machinery. Men were constantly falling. We were ordered to shield ourselves as best we could. A sergeant who had been posted as lookout, to watch the movement of a large force assembling at the edge of some woods just beyond a cornfield, took position against a large tree. An officer, deeming the place unsafe, told him to keep covered. He replied that he could not cover form all sides with one tree. An instant later a bullet struck him in the head, killing him instantly.

We had ceased firing, as if waiting for something to turn up, and being somewhat exhausted [p. 72] from the heat, I sat down upon the root of a large stump, from which the earth had been removed to build the pit. I had been thus seated only a moment when an unknown soldier crowded in between myself and the stump. I moved my bigness toward the end which overhung the pit to accommodate him with a seat, which he barely ahd time to fill before “zip” came a bullet from the direction of the cross-fire which went just deep enough to furrow his face and carry away both eyes. Bounding shot from a battery struck the top of the pit, scattering the earth in a shower, smashing the head of a soldier who was peering over, and nearly tearing to pieces another who stood on the high ground in the rear. The next moment an unexploded shell struck a large limb from a pine tree overhead which leveled three men by its fall. [While this may be true, the melodramatic nature of the tale, and the account of three or four men in the same pit killed by different fires, indicate an account which is in all probability contrived. Particularly suspicious is the account of the soldier wounded immediately after the author gave up his seat to the newcomer. Such things may have occasionally happened, but they were so rare as to defy the odds.]

THE REBELS TWICE REPULSED.

The force which held the pits had been disarranged by the charge and doubling process caused by the cross fire. We were in a sort of disorganized mass made up of different regiments, but the men seemed mutually agreed to support each other as long as possible. We had considerable confidence in our ability to resist a force in front, by reason of one of our regiments being armed with repeaters, which we ahd heard the rebels call “eight-day clocks.” The steady tick of these “clocks” [was] an opportunity [the enemy was] was soon given to hear.

The sentinels excitedly cried out, “There they come! There they come!” This brought every man to his feet in an instant. A long line in gray with bayonets glistening and flags flying was soon just clearing the woods on an elevated piece of ground across the field. There was nothing intervening to hide so much as a button or them, save a few straggling cornstalks on their left.

“Boys, now’s our time,” said a big sergeant in Company F. The officer in command gave the order to “fire,” which was several times repeated by the subordinate officers. “Fire low! Fire low!” Our blood was up, and the command to “cease firing” was not fully heeded until some time after the last standing rebel had disappeared on the run into the forest again. Brave soldiers are made by giving them plenty to do; and the jokes were freely cracked during the next few moments which intervened before the next crash.

The top of a flag was now observed in a deep ravine which ran across the field in our front, not more than fifty yards away. Word ran along the line to “be in readiness.” In a few moments the flag began to move, and with it the whole rebel line came into view. The sight caused the greatest excitement. The officers tried in vain to make the men reserve their fire until the enemy’s lines should clear the ravine far enough to warrant its destruction before it could return. Our men began firing almost at once. The rebel color bearer was shot dead on the brow of the hill, falling forward upon his staff, and the line was driven back in less time than it would take to count twenty. [I suspect that the distance was much greater than fifty yards; without repeaters, that would give time for only one shot; and even for repeaters, a man would have been hard pressed to get off more than two.]

When this charge upon our front began, the force on our flank began to close down and renew that terrible cross fire. We replied as well as possible.

No order had been given “for a change of front,” but it became evident to Sergeant Gross, the color bearer, that he must retreat with the flag or the banner would soon occupy a position in the rebel Capitol at Richmond. The rebels were closing down not more than thirty yards distant. Sergeant Gross tore the flag from the pit and started for the rear. [I cannot imagine any color bearer cutting for the rear without an order. Either an order had been given for the unit to retire, or the truth got lost in the telling of a good story. I suspect the latter.] Remembering, however, that no order had been given to retreat, he turned back, planted his staff in the work, and aided the guard in its defense by firing several shots from his revolver in the very face of the enemy, who were bent on its capture.

The heat of the sun was intense. Colonel Plaisted had already been overcome from that cause, and carried to the rear. The wounded had also been sent back. I glanced over that portion of the ground which I could see, and noticed that dead men were lying in great numbers in every direction. I began to think that we were to stand and fight until the last man should be sacrificed. At that moment the command to “march in retreat” was heard above the din of battle.

Our men, who had stood that terrible fire for several hours undaunted, then gave way, and made a wild rush across the ravine for shelter in the forest beyond. Sergeant Gross carried the colors in his arms and was followed by the guard, one of whom, however, fell dead as he left the work. The flagstaff, one and a half inches in diameter, ahd been shot off in three places, and the flag had been pieced by sixteen bullets.

A RAID NOT ON THE PROGRAMME.

My canteen being empty, I was suffering terribly from thirst, and as Sergeant Googins came along, I asked him if he remembered the location of a small stream which we had crossed while advancing early in the day. He thought it was not far distant, and that if we hurried we might fill our canteens and return in season to move with the regiment. We started on the run and found the stream as predicted.

After quenching our thirst and filling our canteens, we attempted to return, but obliqued too far to the right. To our surprise, we suddenly came in sight of an earthwork held by rebels, as ascertained from the telltale slough hats we saw moving within. Googins thought we had better give them a few shots. So we gathered up a number of loaded muskets which had fallen from the hands of our wounded, stood them against the trees, and then began a small bombardment of our own. Our attack was replied to with such vigor that we concluded that we were playing the fool, and had better leave in a hurry, which we did.

As we were running we came near a soldier of the 1st D. C. Cavalry lying in the brush and moaning with pain from a gunshot wound in the body. He begged us to take him out to friends. We rolled him on his blanket and with the aid of another soldier who came along, we carried him out and gave him to the stretcher-bearers. The poor fellow had suffered greatly. He was profuse in his thanks, and said he believed we had been sent in answer to his prayers for aid.

UNDER TWO FIRES.

After our return, the reorganization of lines being completed, we were all marched still farther [p. 73] to the rear, and took possession of a good breastwork which had been built that day by the reserves.

About sunset we were attacked in our new position by a large force which came near to driving us out be reason of the wild shooting of one of our own batteries stationed half a mile to the rear. The fuses of the shells were cut too short for the distance, which caused the shells to explode in rear of our own men. Most of our men were not endowed with double courage and they broke from the line and sought cover in the forest. An orderly was sent with orders to the battery to “cease firing.” The situation was desperate and the officers of the regiment, leaving their own commands, assisted in driving the terrified men back to their position in season to save the pits. Darkness coming on, no further effort was made to dislodge us.

At 10 p.m. we drew from the line in silence; and the rising of the next sun found us serenely sleeping within the fortified position at Deep Bottom. Our loss was two field officers, three company commanders, and 111 enlisted men from the 11th Maine Regiment alone, our of a force fo barely300 with which we started.

Source: Edwin J. Miller, “The Lost Two-Thirds – A Terrible Day at Deep Run – What a Non-Commissioned Officer of the 11th Maine Witnessed of the Battle,” pp. 70-73, in New York Tribune Co., ed., True Stories of the War for the Union: Personal Experiences and Observations of Union Soldiers in the Several Campaigns. New York: The Tribune Association, 1893, 110 pp. This book consists of reminiscences which had been published in the New York Tribune.