July, 1863.

CHAPTER XIV.

A

BOWERS' HIll.

FTER a few days' rest, we received orders to move camp inside the line of stockade. A regiment of New York troops, lately arrived out, having held this line while we were upon our late raid, now received orders to march.

They were well provided with all the comforts they could stow away in their knapsacks, and consequently the latter were of prodigious size. As during our late exhaustive march on the peninsula we had been forced to part with most of our worldly goods, and were in great need of blankets, overcoats, and clothing, we thought it advisable to follow up these huge knapsacks a mile or two, confident the bearers thereof would soon have to lighten them owing to the extreme heat of the day.

Before they left the camp we passed around among them, begging all the extra blankets, etc., that they could not carry, but they being somewhat fresh in the service and its requirements, supposed they were not to go far, and were not very willing to give away their traps.

It was amusing to witness the heavy loads they provided for themselves. The following is a summary of one man's load: In and upon his knapsack were closely packed one

overcoat, two woolen blankets, one rubber blanket, one shelter tent, one dress coat, one pair of pants, undershirt and drawers, fatigue cap, and two pairs of socks. His haversack contained three days' rations of meat and hardtack, vinegar, box of sugar and coffee, box of salt and pepper, can of condensed milk, butter, cheese, and cookies, tin plate, cup, etc. Attached to his knapsack was a large frying-pan.

This man was the cobbler of his company, and an extra haversack contained leather, shoe hammer, and kit of tools. We watched him get ready to start. He had packed everything snugly away but his lapstone. This indispensable article was a good-sized pavement of perhaps five or six pounds. As rocks was a scarce article in this part of the country, it would not do to leave that. After seeking in vain for a place to stow it away, he appealed to several of his comrades to carry it for him " 'just the lingth of a moile, divil a bit more," promising to tap their shoes free of charge forever after.

But all his persuasions were in vain, and at length came the order" Fall in, men."

As a last resort, he accosted the captain's colored servant with a smiling "Wad ye plaze, now," but that individual replied only by an indignant roll of his eyes, and walked away.

"To the divil wid yez all, thin," Pat exclaimed, “I'll carry it meself," and emptying his haversack of a third of his rations of hard-tack, he thrust in the heavy stone, and shouldering his huge knapsack by the aid of a comrade, he grasped his rifle, and took his place in line.

Extraordinary as this may seem, it is no exaggeration, and with the exception of his lapstone and kit of tools, he carried no more than most of the comrades of his regiment.

They at length moved off the field and down the road

leading to Portsmouth. Quite a number of our boys followed them, and not in vain, for at their first halt, some two miles from camp, many of them lightened their heavy loads, and willingly gave away blankets, etc., with which our boys soon returned to camp. We were thus supplied with the much needed "dry goods," and could furnish our quarters with good beds and covering.

Wednesday, July 15th, was occupied in moving our camp inside of the line of stockade and fixing up our quarters permanently, as it was understood we should finish and garrison this line of works. This work occupied several days, at the end of which we again took our shovels and picks for labor on the fortifications. During our late raid a large force of contrabands had been at work on the fort near the railroad, and had nearly finished it.

Our brigade was therefore detailed to fell the woods for a space of three or four hundred yards in front of the line, and to build a line of breast-works running from the aforesaid fort southeasterly some two miles, and connecting with Fort Reno on our left.

Shouldering our axes each morning, we marched out to the edge of the woods, and soon the cheerful click of the axe blades, and the swaying and crashing fall of the tall pine trees, attested the result of our labors. These great trees were allowed to remain as they fell, in order to impede the advance of an enemy, and lay him open to a scathing fire from our works.

Wednesday, July 29th, the fort was completed, the flag hoisted thereon, and the heavy guns of its armament woke the echoes in the old Dismal Swamp and surrounding country as they saluted the name of Fort Rodman, in honor of our late colonel and general.

The fort mounted eleven guns of large calibre, and was garrisoned by a regiment of heavy artillery.

The hot season was now upon us, but with the advantage of our cool, shady arbors over and in front of our tents, we managed to live quite comfortably. What, with the usual routine of inspections, guard duty, chopping, and building breast-works, the time passed quickly on, and brought us to September 6th, the beginning of my third year in the armies of the United States.

Upon this day we were mustered for general inspection and review, after which we were assigned our position in line of battle at the breast-works, and received orders bearing upon the same, of which the following is a synopsis :

"In case of an attack a signal gun will be fired from either fort. The troops commanding the line will immediately muster at their respective stations in line of battle at the works, without any delay or waiting for the usual company formation in camp, there to receive further orders."

Thus, if in the dead of the night, or at any time, the signal should be fired, every man would at once repair to his position by the shortest route and in the quickest time possible.

Our regiment was first assigned to the defense of Fort Rodman; but after its occupation by the heavy artillery, we were posted along the line of breast-works to the left of the fort.

The line of works, now nearly completed, presented an effectual barrier to an advancing enemy, but yet was devoid of many obstructions in its front that subsequent experience in fortifying deemed necessary.

Forts of large size, and mounting guns of huge calibre, were stationed every mile or so, with numerous redans, or "baby forts," interspersed between, for the accommodation of field artillery; and the breast-works connecting these were solidly made, and protected in front by a line of abatis, in which an enemy would get seriously entangled

in an attempt to advance against us, while constantly receiving a galling fire from our works.

We now expected an opportunity of testing our works in earnest, as we received a report of the advance of a large rebel force near Suffolk, in our front. Work was pushed forward, strengthening the lines, night and day, and getting everything ready to give them a warm reception should they conclude to pay us a visit; but they moved off in another direction, thus saving us a little ammunition, and themselves the opportunity of getting hurt somewhat.

And now an enemy of a different stamp made its appearance in our midst. Diphtheria prevailed. Many were afflicted with sore throats, and several died of this fell dis

ease.

Wednesday, August 26th, Companies I and D were detailed to garrison the first two redans at the right of Fort Rodman.

Thursday, August 27th, our first detail of eighty men and officers, went out to a place called Bowers' Hill on picket duty. As this is one of the conspicuous places in our soldier life, perhaps it will be well to give a short description of it.

Bowers' Hill, a barely preceptible rise of ground, was situated on the line of the Seaboard and Roanoke Railroad, about three and a half miles in front of our camp, and about seven miles from Portsmouth, the terminus of the road. The village was composed of a few straggling farm-houses, at the junction of a road, or cart path, running at right angles with the railroad, and extending from the river Nansemond to the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad. On this cross-road our picket lines were established.

At the extreme right of the line, some one and a half miles from the railroad, stood an old mill on the banks of a stream, now nearly dry. Just beyond were located a few