In the Field What's it like under fire?

[Peace Society]

1 TN, Co. H
Jonesboro

"Look out, Sam; look! look! I just turned my head, and in turning, the cannon ball knocked my hat off, and striking Lieutenant Whittaker full in the side of the head…. The cannon ball did not go twenty yards after accomplishing its work of death. Captain Flournoy laughed at me, and said, "Sam, that came very near getting you. One-tenth of an inch more would have cooked your goose." I saw another man try to stop one of those balls that was just rolling along on the ground. He put his foot out to stop the ball but the ball did not stop, but, instead, carried the man's leg off with it. … I saw a thoughtless boy trying to catch one in his hands as it bounced along. He caught it, but the next moment his spirit had gone to meet its God.

1861 vs. 1882: "Co. Aytch," Maury Grays, First Tennessee Regiment
Samuel R Watkins, 1882

"Co. Aytch": A Side Show of the Big Show; Macmillan Publ. Co., 1962
Co. Aytch: A Confederate Memoir of the Civil War; Simon & Shuster; 1990
p. 195-6

 

[Peace Society]

Cemetery Ridge
July 3, 1863

Dr. G. B. Hotchkin regimental surgeon, who, being at the extreme front taking observations of the field when the fire from the enemies batteries opened, was seen by the writer approaching the regiment in great haste. … In the direction the Doctor was approaching the regiment a number of batteries of reserve artillery were parked, and to reach the regiment he must pass through this park. Artillery is parked by the guns and caisson of each battery being ranged in a line, one behind the other, the batteries being separate from each other by an avenue of a few feet in width. Shortly after the Doctor entered one of these avenues a twenty pound round shot, nearly spent, came bounding along after him. At a glance the Doctor took in the situation. He could not move to the right or the left to get out of the way of the shot, but must continue right on [to] the end of the avenue - which was fully 100 yards in length. With a spring Betty [his horse] darted forward. A glance over his shoulder showed the Doctor that the shot was steadily gaining on him. Another touch of the spurs, another plunge by Betty - this repeated at every backward glance - and these more frequent the nearer approached the shot. On flew horse and rider and on came the cannon ball majestically rolling and bounding after them, and had approached so close when they reached the end of the avenue as to scatter the dust and gravel on Betty's heels as they turned to the left to give it the right of way.

William P. Lloyd, "The First Pennsylvania Cavalry in the Gettysburg Campaign," The Philadelphia Weekly Press, May 26, 1886

Quoted in War Stories: A Collection of 150 Little Known Human Interest Accounts of the Campaign and Battle of Gettysburg, Gregory A. Coco, Thomas Publications, Gettysburg PA, 1992, p. 40-41, 69

 

[Peace Society]

Petersburg 1864

Through the dust and smoke and uproar I saw men fall, saw others mangled by chunks of shell, and saw one, struck fairly by an exploding shell, vanish.

One of the caissons, which belonged to a battery that was in action alongside of us, struck by a shell, blew up, and two men were blown up with it. A long bolt made by our English brothers, did this work…


Frank Wilkeson, Recollections of a Private Soldier in the Army of the Potomac, 1897
Arcadia Press 2019, p. 81

 

[Peace Society]

Shellfire discriminates? Someone who knows the physics of the blast might be able to explain this.

July 21, 1864 [Atlanta]
…I was lying down resting on my elbow - and another man in about the same position with our heads about two feet apart and our feet in opposite directions, a shell exploded just between us - blowing me one way and him the other, hurting neither one of us but killing three men about 10 ft. from us eating their breakfast.

Capt. Samuel T. Foster, TX
Quoted in Voices from the Civil War
ed by Milton Meltzer, 1989
Harper Trophy edition, p.170

 

[JOHN42768]

I would guess that on impact with the ground any shrapnel from the horizon down would dig itself into the ground. The concussion alone moved them further away from point of impact. Any shrapnel above the ground was being trajected up and away from the blast source. The poor guys eating well above ground level and caught the shrapnel being distributed in the air. Picture throwing a stone into a pond. Waves erupt around point of impact and water shoots up and away from that point. INMO

 

[Reconstructed Rebel]

Picture throwing a stone into a pond. Waves erupt around point of impact and water shoots up and away from that point. INMO

I believe it depends on the type of shell fired too, but in a handout from WWII explaining how to best protect yourself when being under various kinds of bombardment, lying flat on the ground was a defense against an explosion that followed the pattern you describe.

 

[Peace Society]

Gettysburg, July 3
AotP

For an hour and a half crash followed crash and "embowelled with outrageous noise the air." The enemy used railroad iron and various other missiles besides the ordinary ones. Shells from the Wentworth guns came with a humming sound like a spinning wheel in motion. Some of the shot shrieked and hissed; some whistled; some came with muffled growl; some with howls like rushing, circling winds. Some spit and sputtered; others uttered unearthly groans or hoarsely howled their mission of death. If a constellation of meteoric worlds had exploded above our heads, it would have scarcely been more terrible than this iron rain of death furiously hurled upon us. Over all these sounds were heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying. The uproar of the day previous seemed silence when compared to this Inferno of sounds.

Recollections of a Private, 1890
Warren Lee Goss

 

[Cycom]

Gettysburg, July 3
AotP

For an hour and a half crash followed crash and "embowelled with outrageous noise the air." The enemy used railroad iron and various other missiles besides the ordinary ones. Shells from the Wentworth guns came with a humming sound like a spinning wheel in motion. Some of the shot shrieked and hissed; some whistled; some came with muffled growl; some with howls like rushing, circling winds. Some spit and sputtered; others uttered unearthly groans or hoarsely howled their mission of death. If a constellation of meteoric worlds had exploded above our heads, it would have scarcely been more terrible than this iron rain of death furiously hurled upon us. Over all these sounds were heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying. The uproar of the day previous seemed silence when compared to this Inferno of sounds.

Recollections of a Private, 1890
Warren Lee Goss

Even 27 years after, the chaos of battle remained as visceral as ever. These men likely never forgot what they experienced.

 

[Peace Society]

8 GA, Anderson's brigade, Longstreet's corps
Manassas, VA

Colonel Gardner remarked, "I see a battery taking position over yonder…" … He had scarcely uttered the words when I heard a cannon, and a moment after I heard the shrieking ball - a conical shell, I afterward learned it was - and it seemed coming straight for me… I felt that I was in the presence of death. My first thought was, "This is unfair; somebody is to blame for getting us all killed. I didn't come out here to fight this way; I wish the earth would crack open and let me drop in." Now that cannon was only about a half mile away, and that ball was only two or three seconds reaching us, but all those thoughts passed through my mind in those brief moments. Then with a shrieking, unearthly sound - woo-oo-oo - p-o-w! - it passed and exploded. To say I was frightened is tame. The truth is, there is no word in Webster's Unabridged that describes my feelings. I had never been in the very presence of death before, and if my hair at that moment had turned as white as cotton it would not have surprised me.

Berrien Zettler

Quoted in pastor Terry Tuley's book
Battlefields and Blessings: Stories of Faith and Courage from the Civil War
2006, Living Ink Books, Chattanooga, TN, p. 353
From: http://docsouth.unc.edu/settler/settler.html, 62-63

 

[Peace Society]

Camp near Harrison's Landing, Va.
July 21, 1862

We were ordered to strike our tents Saturday morning, the 28th of June. It was whispered that we were to fall back from Richmond. Our camp was situated in the timber, some two miles in front of the enemy's lines. We had hardly commenced the business of striking tents, when the enemy's shells began to scream through the air over our heads. Few things have so intimidating an effect upon men as these shells. They howl, shriek, whistle, and sometimes seem to groan, as they pass through the air. And though you cannot see them - so rapid is their flight - unless when they explode, you hear them so distinctly that you think you might see them if you took time and looked sharp.
…
The day was occupied with marching and counter-marching - none of us understanding what was aimed at, and content to blindly obey orders. Again it was night. But after darkness had set in, a battery that the enemy had been getting in position opened upon us. We endured the most fearful shelling, so all confess that heard it, that has been known in the progress of this war. It seemed as though all the fires in the infernal regions had been suddenly let loose upon us. We were in a narrow belt of timber, and the shells flew through like hail, crashing down boughs of trees, and ploughing up the earth were they struck. It was a fearful hour.
Early in the morning, the troops encamped near us, with ourselves, were again in motion. It was a retrograde movement, and we were put nearly at the head of the column. It was a confused, pell-mell march, - infantry, artillery, and cavalry straggling along the road together. Nature was fairly exhausted. Again the flanking guns were opened on us, and for a moment there was a little faltering. I think everybody felt as I did in the first moment, - that we must escape from it. But directly the feeling toned me up, that I must go on, though all the batteries of the lower regions should open upon us. On we moved through the trees, balls and shells whistling and howling around us. The fire became so hot that we were ordered to lie down. I expected to be killed. I wondered whether I would be taken off by a minie-ball or a shell. The man next me was torn in a half score of pieces. I was spattered with his blood and rent flesh. Then the splinters of a tree that was struck by a shell covered me, as I lay on the ground. I am amazed now when I recall my mood of mind, for I absolutely grew cheerful and indifferent. "It is all over," I said; "I am to be killed. My body will be so mutilated that it will be buried on the battle-field!" And a great gush of joy stole through me as I remembered that my wife and daughter would not be sickened by the sight of my mangled remains.
Z. H. H.

Letter quoted in
My Story of the War: a Woman's Narrative or Four Years Personal Experience
Mary A Livermore, 1887, p. 653, 654-5
[New intro by Nina Silber, Da Capo Press, NY, 1995]

 

[Peace Society]

1-2-63

At sunrise we have a shower of solid shot and shell. The Chicago Board of Trade battery is silenced. The shot roll up the Murfreesboro pike like balls on a bowling alley. Many horses are killed. A soldier near me, while walking deliberately to the rear, to seek a place of greater safety, is struck between the shoulders by a ricocheting ball, and instantly killed. We are ordered to be in readiness to repel an attack, and form line of battle amid this fearful storm of iron. Gannther and Loomis get their batteries in position, and, after twenty or thirty minutes' active work, silence the enemy and compel him to withdraw.

John Beatty, Col., 17th brigade, Negley's div., Thomas' corps, Army of the Cumberland

The Citizen-Soldier: The Memoirs of a Civil War Volunteer, 1879
Available from Bison Books, U of NE Press, Lincoln, 1998

 

[Peace Society]

early morning 6-17-1863
aboard monitor Nahant in Wassaw Sound

As I stood on the extreme point of the stern, with one arm crooked around the flagstaff for safety, I saw the spar on the bow of the Ram [Atlanta] swing forward and down and drop into the water with a splash, and the black muzzle of a gun appeared out of the bow porthole; in two or three seconds there was a flash from the gun and a shot struck the water perhaps a third of the distance between the Ram and us. Then I saw the big-looking black shot rising and coming straight towards where I was standing. I could see that cannon shot as plainly as the catcher sees the balls which a pitcher throws to him.
The shot struck the water some forty to fifty feet away, dashing up a great quantity of water which came down on the afterend of the Nahant in a torrent and wet me to the skin, and then I saw the shot go past, tumbling end over end upon the water, and making such a roaring as I imagine might be made by a small tornado. The "roar" in my ears, added to the ducking I had received, brought me to realize that I was where I had no business to be.

Alvah Folsom Hunter, ca. 1924
(then age 16, a wardroom Boy - and full of curiosity about everything!)

A Year on a Monitor and the Destruction of Fort Sumter
Ed. Craig L Symonds
U of SC Press, Columbia SC, 1987, pb 1991, p. 75-76


Nov. 1863
Charleston harbor

An amusing story was told of a negro on Morris Island who was seen crouching behind some simple shelter, and when he was laughed at for being afraid of those distant shells he said: "They's arfter me, Massa! They's arfter me!" When assured that it was quite impossible that the shells were "arfter" him he declared: "Yis they is, Massa, they keeps a sayin' 'Whar is yer, whar is yer?'; and that phrase, spoken slowly and with the "is" soft, gives a very good idea of the sound of the burning shell-fuse as we used to hear it.

Ibid. p.165-6

 

[RetiredCanuck]

Even when it's not for real you need to treat these beasts with respect.
Went to the 125th Cedar Mountain event. There was an optional, no spectators night battle.

It was surreal, because a thick fog rolled in that evening. That combined with darkness, small arms smoke, noise and wooded areas meant you could only see the troops about 100 foot on either side.

Somehow our company managed to roll up on a fully manned and loaded 12 pounder that appeared through the mist 20 or 30 feet directly to our front. Luckily the crew kept their wits about them and held fire as we beat a hasty retreat, or I'm sure that this could have ended very badly....

 

[13 IL Cav & 64 GA Inf]

January 17, 1863



The time between the bursting of a shell in front of you & the striking of the fragments on the ground, short as it is, gives rise to the most peculiar feeling I have yet experienced. To get the full benefit you should be standing or lying perfectly idle on the ground in the direction from which the shell is to come. First the sound of the gun, instantly followed by a noise between a whiz & a yell, then say 20 rods [330 ft.] in front and 100 feet in the air, there is the prettiest globe of dense, white smoke the size of a small haycock, eddying & unfolding in all manner of graceful shapes.

This is all you see but you know that from 10 to 200 musket balls and ragged pieces of iron will strike within the next two seconds on the acre of ground on which you stand. You hear the explosion, not so loud as the cannon but a round compact noise, then come the fragments each one according to its shape singing a different note, varying from a sharp whiz to a low, heavy bass. The senses are so wonderfully acute that you seem to hear each one distinctly. There is no use of dodging or moving about. But where will they all strike? Will that little bullet with the shrill, piping voice pierce your body? Will that triangular chap which screams so tear out your bowels with one of his sharp points? Will that big fellow which makes that low, rushing sound be satisfied with an arm or a leg or will he take your head? Will they skip you & take someone else? Perhaps they will go too high - no - too low - no. It is soon decided - thump, rattle, bang, smash, dirt & splinters fly on every side. You are safe but looking around you see from one to a dozen poor fellows rolling headless, or writhing in agony on the ground.

One could not write in all day the thoughts which pass through his mind in those two seconds. One does not need a better opportunity to test his religion. Misdeeds are sure to find their way to the surface. These two seconds explain his spiritual condition better than all the sermons ever preached. If he is afraid to die he knows it & he knows the reason with a certainty which admits of no doubt. Those two seconds may be worth more to a man than all his previous life. If one has done his duty toward himself and he has kept within the limits of his code of morals he will be very thankful. If he has not he will be more careful afterwards how he walks.

While this is passing through your brain you still see and hear all that is going on around you & have the most perfect presence of mind. Perhaps 10 seconds after you are laughing to see a comrade scratching the dust out of his eyes. What would I give if such activity of the mind & such clearness of perception could be continued & I had the power to express my thoughts in language. If you are in motion at the time or busied about anything you will feel nothing like this. It comes & goes instantly.







Journal entry, Charles B. Haydon, 2 MI infantry, 9th​ corps, Army of the Potomac



For Country, Cause & Leader:

The Civil War Journal of Charles B. Haydon

Ed. Stephen W. Sears

Ticknor & Fields, NY, 1993

p. 306-307



I made an effort to get hold of the printer/editor for permission to post. The publishing company is no longer in operation. It has been more than a year since I wrote for permission to the address in the book, hoping someone wasI still able to forward, or would at least have the editor still on file.

Very thought provoking.

 

[Peace Society]

Jonesboro

August 1864 - That month we spent in the trenches, under a fire of shot and shell and musketry, which, although not continuous, was heavy. So too, it was spent, under fire by the hapless people of Atlanta, mostly women and children.
The "ping" and "spit" and "sputter" and "drop" of bullets about you, the shriek and gobble and flutter of shells, all became monotonous, mere matters of routine in which interest and excitement flag, and life becomes a bore. The enemy did not press us. His energies were elsewhere, on our flank and rear. His work with us was merely to keep us there, to annoy and wear us out.

Phillip Daingerfield Stephenson, The Civil War Memoir of
Loader, Piece no. 4, 5th Co. Washington Artillery, Army of TN
Ed. by Nathaniel Cheairs Hughes, Jr
p. 228, 1995, UCA Press, Conway, AR

 

[Peace Society]

Camp Winfield Scott, May 4, 1862

You cannot imagine the noise made by a hundred-pound rifle shell whizzing through the air, even at the distance of half a mile from you. It seems like three or four engines going at the top of their speed, and when it bursts -- thunder and rounds, what a noise! But I have heard their music so often that I scarcely notice them now.

Captain Robert Goldthwaite Carter
Four Brothers in Blue
1913, p. 36
Available from U of TX Press 1978

 

[Peace Society]

6 WI, 12-13-1862

Late in the afternoon, the enemy opened upon us the concentrated fire of all his artillery on Hamilton's Heights, forty or fifty guns. Our men lay flat upon the ground and took it with wonderful courage and patience. I have never known a more severe trial of nerve upon the battle field, than this hour under that infernal fire. With nothing to do but crouch close to the ground, our eyes were riveted upon the cannon on the hill firing point blank at us. They seemed endowed with life in their tremendous and spiteful energy. There would be a swift outburst of snow white smoke, out of which flashed a tongue of fire, and the cannon would leap backward in its recoil, then followed the thundering report, in the midst of which the missile fired at us would plow deep into the ground, scattering a spray of dirt and bound high over us or burst in the air, sending fragments with a heavy thud into the ground around us. … Several times I saw the awful plowing of the earth in the very midst of our battle lines of men lying upon the ground. There was instant death in the track of it. We were relieved from this fire only by the darkness of the night, and our regiment was moved forward to the Bowling Green road. Hearing his movement, the enemy began firing upon us with canister. We could hear the sharp rattle of shot upon the ground. As the night was very dark, the firing was necessarily at random, and the danger not great, but the sound of the shot striking the ground was frightful.

12-14&15-1862
At one time the enemy planted a Whitworth rifled cannon beyond the Massaponax in position to enfilade our lines of battle lying on the plain. They fired sold bolts down about two miles of our line. The whistle of this shot was shrill and peculiar. When it bounded into the air after striking the ground, it looked like a corn cob whirling over and over. One shot struck a knapsack and flung a pack of playing cards many feet into the air, scattering them in all directions. Capt. R. A. Hardaway of the Confederate army, had charge of this gun.

12-16-1862
After crossing the pontoon on the night of the 15th​, our brigade bivouacked in the woods about two miles from the river. While we were here, the enemy fired upon us with their Whitworth rifled cannon which must have been planted three miles away. Colonel Bragg, Dr. John C. Hall and I were sitting at breakfast in a wall tent, when crash went one of these Whitworth bolts through the limbs of a tree directly over us. This startled us somewhat but we put on the appearance of paying no regard to it. Oh, no, we did not mind it. Another bolt came with its unearthly scream on the line, barely missing the ridge pole of the tent. We had no further appetite for breakfast in that locality, and we scattered without delay.


Rufus R. Dawes
Service with the Sixth Wisconsin Volunteers: Four Years with the Iron Brigade, 1890, ch. V
Available from www.digitalHistoryBooks.com

 

[Peace Society]

6 WI, 7-2-1863
The morning of the second day found us lying quietly in our breastworks near the summit of Culp's Hill. We were in the shade of some fine oak trees, and enjoyed an excellent view of nearly the whole battle field. Our situation would have been delightful, and our rest in the cool shade would have been refreshing, if it had not been for the crack, crack, of the deadly sharpshooters on the rebel skirmish line. Owning, probably, to the crooked line of our army, the shots came from all directions, and the peculiarly mournful wail of the spent bullet was constantly heard.

6 WI, 7-3-1863
During the whole day of July 3rd​, we occupied our intrenchments on Culp's Hill. They seemed a coign of vantage. We had the zip of the sharpshooter's bullet, the "where is you" of cannon shot, the ringing whistle of the ragged fragments of bursting shell, all around us. At some hours of the day, especially during the great cannonade preceding Pickett's charge, the air seemed full of missiles fired by the enemy. But no man was touched, and we were devoutly thankful that such immunity was granted us.


Rufus R. Dawes
Service with the Sixth Wisconsin Volunteers: Four Years with the Iron Brigade, 1890, ch. VIII
Available from www.digitalHistoryBooks.com

 

[gary]

for anyone who doesn't respect 12 pdr muzzle loaders, watch this video:

 

[Old Soldier]

Interesting thoughts that raced through ones head in the heat of battle

They don't. You just pray - or hope - you will make it through without any damage. The adrenaline is flowing freely and you do not think. Any reaction is instinctive or drilled into you - automatic. You start thinking AFTER the event. The 'popular tunes' sounds right too - something familiar and totally unconnected with the action.

The thoughts come afterwards - sometimes long afterwards as you do not want to relive those experiences and revive the memories especially those of mates that did not make it through. Many were written over 10 years afterwards. You do not write a diary on the battlefield, always afterwards. Note that the letter to 'Auntie' was written over two weeks later.