Roster and Statistical Record of Company D, of the Eleventh Regiment Maine Infantry Volunteers

It was on this picket line that First-Sergeant Bassett was killed the night of the 15th of September. It was a bright, moonlight night, we had just relieved the 1st Maryland, our men crept forward, each squad well informed of its assigned position, and all suddenly hurried for their positions, getting under cover as speedily as possible, the relieved pickets stealing as quietly away for the main line. This was the method of relieving here, but this night some of the relieved pickets moved up the hill somewhat carelessly, their plates and cups clanking noisily and themselves visible in the bright moonlight, so drawing a sharp fire from the enemy's pickets, by which several of the careless fellows were wounded.

Sergeant Bassett was to enter the extreme left picket hole to be occupied by our regiment. Lieutenant Maxfield returned from leave, and commanding D again, was assisting in placing the line, and was in the picket hole when Sergeant Bassett came running to it, in a crouching position, just as the enemy opened fire on the careless Maryland men. Reaching it, Captain Maxfield says, the Sergeant thoughtlessly stood erect on the edge of the pit, while saying, "Well, boys, I'm here," then fell forward into the Lieutenant's arms, a bullet having pierced his throat. Sergeant Bassett was my friend and tent-mate as well as my comrade. Only the night before his death he had talked long of the soon coming end of his term of service, a service he considered already ended by the law of right, he having enlisted on the 7th day of September three years before. But the constituted authorities considered that the three years he had enlisted for must date from October 19th, the date of his muster into service. The point was acknowledged to be a debatable one and Bassett was told that it was his privilege to stay in camp if he chose not to expose himself to the chances of the front line. But Frank was too high spirited a man to split hairs with his honor; he was either a soldier or a civilian, and if held would be as a soldier and not as a prisoner, declaring that until he was free to go North he would be with D wherever its lot was cast. And with D our bright, brave, true-hearted comrade died, heaping the measure of his duty with his life. The tour of duty in the main line, although affording more liberty of movement, was a dangerous one, especially for those stationed in front of the "Elliott" salient of the Confederates. It was under this salient that the mine had been exploded in the dim of a July morning. From its protruding point hundreds of men had been hurled from sleep into eternity, and for its mutilated possession hundreds more had died. From this grim point of the Confederate line, the hillside before it rough with hillocks of bare earth and rugged with yawning chasms, the result of the explosion, the enemy kept up a sharp and almost continuous night fire, for it was so close to our line that pickets were not thrown out before it by either side. And on dark nights their artillery at this point of the line would be frequently fired to throw a flashing light over the rough ground between the lines of works. Our heavy artillery was not averse to trying its weight with the Confederates at any time. General Humphreys praises the proficiency attending the gunners of this branch of artillery service in silencing the fire of the batteries of the enemy. They had an especial fancy for every now and then opening just at sunrise with every gun they had a roaring, shrieking salute to his rising majesty. Sometimes they did it for practice, sometimes to disconcert and alarm the enemy, sometimes to jubilate over some advantage some one of our armies had somewhere gained. One morning at daybreak, when a detachment of the regiment, including D, was in the little horseshoe shaped outwork we had before "Fort Hell," a messenger came along the line to let us know that at sunrise all our heavy guns would open. I was awake and in charge of a line of guards along the line of D, while the rest of the men, tired with a sleepless night watch, were dozing and napping here and there, crouching, lying, leaning in all possible positions but an erect one, but every man with his rifle clutched by a hand. It was my duty to awaken them and acquaint them with the coming bombardment, but I thought it would be a good joke to let the roar of the guns do the awakening. In a few minutes it came, a sudden roaring of batteries and the shrieking and bursting of shells just as the first ray of sunlight flashed from the east. The men of D not awake, awoke promptly, every man after his nature, some plunging for the bomb-proof, some springing for the parapet, and some just jumping to their feet and whirling around and around during a minute or so of desperate bewilderment. The men who leaped to the parapet to repel any coming enemy thought it a very good joke indeed, the momentarily bewildered ones had seen better jokes, but the ones that plunged for the bomb-proof were loud in expressing their indignation at the severest joke of their experience. It was on this line that the informal election was held by the regiment, Lincoln or McClellan, and the only vote cast for McClellan in D was by stout old Private Maddox. When rallied on his "disloyal" choice, as many preferred patriots thought it, Maddox wrathfully shouted, "My grandfather was a democrat, my father was a democrat, and by the Almighty, I'll not go back on either of them." If his argument did not convince his questioners of the soundness of his logic, his blazing eyes and stalwart form gave it a respectful consideration.

Private Maddox was not a conventional thinker anyway. On Strawberry Plains when a bullet went zipping through his cap, instead of raising a loud thanksgiving for his narrow escape, just by the hair of his head, he boiled over with rage at the injury to his cap, vowing that if he could get his hands on the rebel who fired the damaging shot, he would whip him within an inch of his scoundrelly life.

The twenty-four hours passed in camp gave us time for necessary domestic labors – washing, mending, gun and equipment cleaning. Though still under fire, we were released from the necessity of bearing guns and accoutrements, for which reason these few hours were looked forward to as a sort of turning out to grass, and as gladly as any old horse ever scuttled out of harness to roll in the clover, did we strip off our galling belts to stretch ourselves and enjoy our short space of comparative liberty, those of us not so unfortunate as to lose it in some detail of fatigue or other detested duty. Thus time ran in the entrenchments before Petersburgh until the 24th of September, when we moved back to a distance from the line of fire, making a new camp and giving an opportunity for the commanding officers to gratify their passion for drills, they revelling, according to Captain Maxfield's diary, both the 26th and the 27th in Company and Battalion drills.

THE NORTH SIDE OF THE JAMES

In the afternoon of the 28th of September we left this camp and marched for Deep Bottom, arriving there in the early morning very tired and sleepy. This was a hard march, so hard a one that when the Second Corps made it on their return from Deep Bottom in August, General Hancock considered it a very exhausting night march for troops to make that were to attack in the morning. Night marches are particularly weary ones. The monotony of plodding through silent darkness, hour after hour, is as wearing to the men as is the distance.

It is rarely that a gleam of enjoyment illumines the dullness of such a march; but as we plodded along through the darkness of this night and were passing a half slumbering camp, the fires were low and the lights were few, a voice rang out from it calling, "What regiment's that?" At the answer "The Eleventh Maine," a wild yell came from the quiet camp, dark forms rising from it in groups and companies, to shout in stentorian volleys "Who stole the butter?" It was the 98th New York, the regiment that sailed in the old Cahawba with us from Yorktown to Morehead City, on which cruise the sutler of the 98th lost his never to be recovered tubs of butter, and the question now waking the echoes of the dark night was the one to which even a drum-head court-martial failed to find the answer. The expedition we were a part of was intended to surprise the Confederate works on the north side of the river, where they were known to be thinly guarded. It was hoped that our unexpected onslaught would not only force their covering lines, such as the works before Deep Bottom and along Bailey's Creek and the works centering on Fort Harrison, near Chapin's Bluff, but would enable us to get possession of Fort Gilmer, of their main line too, really the key to the position of Chapin's Bluff.

General Ord, now commanding the Eighteenth Corps, was in immediate command of the expedition, consisting of all of the Tenth and Eighteenth Corps that could be spared from the investing lines and of Kautz's cavalry division. Ord was to cross the river from his Bermuda Hundred front, crossing by a ponton bridge laid down at Aiken's in the darkness of the night, we were marching through, was to gain the Varina road, here abutting on the river, move up sharply in the early morning and assail the enemy, taking such works as he could, at all events was to prevent the enemy from crossing troops by the ponton bridge between Drury's and Chapin's Bluffs, to attack Birney's Tenth Corps. Birney's Tenth Corps was to cross the river at Deep Bottom in the early morning, gain the New Market and Darbytown roads – lying beyond the Varina road in the order named and running along the river and parallel with it – the infantry to move along the New Market road with Kautz's cavalry moving on their flank by the Darbytown road, the line to overrun the Confederate outworks before Deep Bottom and sweep forward towards Fort Gilmer's flank, while Ord attacked its front. We moved through Deep Bottom, crushed the light force found before it and moved rapidly up the New Market road, driving the enemy before us. Ord had followed the river road and attacked so strongly with Burnham's brigade as to carry all before him, capturing Fort Harrison with sixteen guns and a large number of prisoners. General Burnham was killed in the assault on the fort. General Ord then moved his forces to the right and left of Fort Harrison, capturing two batteries of three guns each. He then endeavored to sweep down from the captured intrenchments and take the works on the river bank that covered the enemy's ponton bridge, but the Confederate gunboats opening the attempt was unsuccessful.

General Ord was severely wounded in directing this movement, and General Heckman took command of the Eighteenth Corps, but scattered his brigades in the woods so that he could not concentrate them on Fort Gilmer until it had been so heavily reenforced that he was repulsed with a heavy loss. In the meantime, we of the Tenth Corps had captured the enemy's outworks lying across the New Market and Darbytown roads, and were making ready to move on his main line a little over a half mile to their rear. General Grant was now on the ground. Sending our division over to the Darbytown road, about a mile across from the New Market one, to support Kautz, he directed Birney to move forward with his other brigades. Then Ames' division and Brigadier-General William Birney's colored brigade moved on Fort Gilmer by the New Market road, but they were forced back by the grape and musketry when so close to the works that some of the colored brigade jumped into the ditch and tried to climb to the parapet of the fort by each other's shoulders. We of Terry's Division were now pushing through the captured works, Kautz on the right, all moving under a heavy fire and in momentary expectation that the assault on Gilmer would be successful, when we proposed to force our way into Richmond. So vigorously did we move forward that when the announcement of the failure of the assault reached us we were actually less than four miles from Richmond, and it required rapid movement and severe fighting on our part to get out of the precarious position our own sanguine advance had placed our inadequate force in. Rejoining our line, light works were thrown up in the night.

The next day was one of heavy skirmishing only, until the afternoon, when a heavy force of the enemy assaulted Fort Harrison and were beaten back three times before abandoning their attempt to recapture it. General Stannard who so gallantly held the fort for us, lost his arm in the second assault. While these north side operations where going on, General Meade was moving on the left, partly to keep reenforcements from the north side, where so much was hoped for, and partly to try to gain ground on that flank. The results of his movements were desultory, although rather in his favor. We held our now well intrenched position on the north side of the James with only heavy skirmishing, while threatening demonstrations were made by brigades of both sides from day to day, but without a real collision until the 7th of October. The right flank of our force on that side of the river – our brigade held the extreme infantry position on that flank – was covered by Kautz's cavalry. His position was across a swamp from us, on the Darbytown road at the Confederate line of intrenchments we captured the 29th of September. Here he had 1700 men and two batteries. So threatening was this position that two divisions of Confederates moved out the night of October 6th, and at sunrise of the 7th attacked on his front and his right flank. He could not stand up against such an attack as this, and in falling back through the swamp, by the narrow road crossing it, found the rebel cavalry there before him. Leaving them his eight guns, his men made desperate attempts to get under the wing of our division, scouting through the woods in flying groups. About as soon as the roar of the enemy's sudden attack on Kautz came to our ears the advance of his broken cavalry squadrons came dashing through the woods on our flank, riding recklessly through tearing brambles and matted copses. Almost immediately our division left its intrenchments at the double-quick for a position at about right angles to the one left, quickly forming front to intercept the enemy's advancing force, now closely following Kautz's flying men. But as the enemy swept through the woods he fell on the heavy skirmish line we had thrown out, and his immediate advance was halted until assaulting columns could be formed. At last his heavy columns were ready for the assault and his skirmishers began to press ours in an attempt to break them, their columns hoping to get close to our line under cover of an advancing skirmish line.

But our men were stubborn. I remember that Colonel Plaisted sent me with orders to Lieutenant Dunbar, in command of the skirmishers of our regiment. The fire was furious, and the lines lay close on each other, it was a murderous one, but neither Dunbar nor his men were inclined to yield an inch. "We can hold a line of battle" yelled one bold Yankee. But they couldn't, for when the roar of the assault came rolling through the dense woods in which the fight took place, we had to hold the fire of our line until the flying skirmishers should get behind us, in this way getting the shrieking, dingy lines of the enemy within short rifle range before we opened on them. The grey lines pressed forward through the hail storm of bullets our brigade was pouring on them, when suddenly from our left broke out the volley roar of the seven-shooters of the New Hampshire men. Seven volleys in one. Flesh and blood could not stand such a cyclone of lead; and they stopped, broke and fled, leaving the woods piled with their dead and dying. Just as our victory was assured, reenforcements came up the road on the double-quick, to protect our extreme right. Panting and exhausted as they were with their efforts to reach us in time to be of service, they had breath enough left to give hearty cheers for our stand-up victory. We are particularly proud of this victory, as we won it without the protecting works so necessary to break the headlong impetus of an assaulting force, and in beating off the enemy's heavy charging columns stood in about single rank, having to stretch our line to a length that would oppose any flanking movement the enemy might combine with his front attack. And curiously enough our right regiment, the 10th Connecticut, just lapped the enemy's lines. I can see the 10th now as it stood on our immediate right, every man of it fighting with impetuous vigor to protect our flank, even its Chaplain, Henry Clay Trumbull, vying with the rest of its officers in encouraging their men, not only by his words but by flourishing a most unclerical looking revolver. It was here that Chaplain Trumbull won the name of "Fighting Chaplain" and high honors as he has since won in his chosen calling as Editor of the Sunday School Times, I'll venture that he is prouder of the title he received from the rank and file on that day of mortal warfare than of any theological one his service in the spiritual army has brought him. In this affair of the New Market Road, of D, its Commander, Lieutenant Maxfield and Corporal Horace Whittier of the Color Guard, were wounded.

The 13th of October our regiment was part of a force that moved out on the Darbytown road on a reconnoissance in force. We found the enemy's works of the most formidable character and strongly held. A brigade of Ames' division assaulted a promising part of them, but was beaten back, and a movement of ours made in conjunction with that of Ames, failed, we falling back under a very heavy artillery and musketry fire. While we lay in the woods before these inhospitable works, this storm of war sweeping over us, the cooks of D, then John Day and Prince Dunifer, appeared with camp kettles filled with hot coffee, and persisted in serving it to the men in spite of the great danger they had to expose themselves to in doing so. Cook Day, always excited in action, was none the less so that he was running the risk he then was, and as some slow member of the company lying flat upon the ground would fumble for his tin cup as John stood over him, John's ire would boil till he would shout in that stentorian voice of his, "Hurry up, hurry; do you want me to be killed?" And so amusing was John's tribulations to Prince Dunifer, walking behind John to carry the reserve kettle, that he forgot all about his own danger in laughing at John. But neither John nor Prince ever shirked a duty or a danger – both good cooks and good fighters, John only excelling in the intensity with which he performed every duty, whether it was to cook, fight or to run away. Who is more worthy of honor than are these comrades? They followed our marching column day after day, loaded with kettles, spades and provisions, at every opportunity making hot coffee and taking it to the men on the line of skirmish or battle; at night preparing a fiery bean hole in which to bake their beans, standing guard all night if need be over the simmering delicacies, that in the morning their men might have something tangible for their belts to tighten over. And what welcome did a rushing reenforcement meet with at some desperate moment of a raging battle, equal to the one that used to greet old John Day as he came plunging through the woods to our hungry, shivering line on some gray morning, his broad shoulders sturdily bearing a yoke from which depended kettles of steaming coffee and smoking beans. Of D, Private Woodbury was the only man wounded on this expedition.

In the latter part of October, Grant pushed a strong force from the left towards the South Side Railroad. In connection with the movement we made one on the right.

Moving out at daylight of the 27th of October, we drove the enemy's pickets in on the Darbytown and the Charles City roads, and moved forward to threaten their works without intending to assault them. While we were maneuvering before the works, General Weitzel, in command of the Eighteenth Corps, was moving with that corps to turn the Confederate left flank by pushing through White Oak Swamp and taking possession of the unoccupied rebel works on the Williamsburgh and New Bridge roads; then was to move on Richmond. But General Longstreet, now in command of the Confederate forces on the north side of the James, anticipated the movements so effectually that Weitzel found the supposed-to-be unoccupied works so thoroughly occupied as to make his attack on them a complete failure, he losing heavily in both men and colors, each of his two attacking brigades losing three colors. About the hour of the afternoon that Weitzel met with this defeat, we were ordered to press our demonstrations and, if possible, to carry the works. The attempts made to carry out this order were unsuccessful. We had to lie on the ground in the rain that night to cover the retreat of Weitzel's men, who wearily plodded back through the rain, mud and darkness, not reaching a safe position in our rear until early morning. We then moved back into our own works. On the 29th of October our cavalry pickets were driven in from their position of observation on Johnson's farm, the position that Kautz was driven from on the 7th of the month. Anticipating an attack of the same sort as was the one we then repelled, our division moved out across the intervening swamp Kautz left his guns in. Reaching a position on the other side, we formed a strong skirmish line and charged the captured picket works, the enemy running from them as we neared them. Sergeant Brady of D was wounded as we entered the now recaptured works. This was the last engagement of the war on the north side of the James.

CHAPIN'S FARM

The night of the 7th of October we bivouacked on the ground of Chapin's farm that we had fought for during the day, not thinking that we should remain in nearly the same position until the Spring campaign opened. But we did, first pitching our camp near the bivouac ground to move out from on expeditions into the enemy's country, finally building our winter quarters on the camp ground. But before the regiment went into winter quarters the three years service its original members yet remaining with the regiment had entered upon had ended, and the preparations for the mustering out of those of them who had not reenlisted were completed. And on the 2d day of November, after taking leave of their old comrades, these freed veterans marched away from the colors they had helped place in the front of many battles. Jubilant as they undoubtedly were, happy in anticipation of the coming meeting with loved ones, there was yet a visible tinge of sadness in their parting from the old comrades to remain and endure the hardships and privations they themselves would no more know. And those left behind with the colors, though they sped their parting comrades with hearty good will, could not help a faint heart sinking at the thought that perhaps before they could march away to their homes the fate of hundreds they had known might be theirs, and they too be lying in the shallow graves hurrying burying parties can only spare the time to give the dead of a battle field. But there was little time given the men remaining with the colors for sentimental considerations. The day after their comrades left for Maine, they in company with the 10th Connecticut, marched to Deep Bottom and sailed from there to Fortress Monroe, where a provisional division was forming to proceed to New York City for the purpose of keeping the peace there during the pending Presidential election. This division, consisting of the 11th Maine, the 6th, 7th and 10th Connecticut regiments, the 3d and 7th New Hampshire, the 13th Indiana, 112th New York, Battery M, of the 1st U.S. Artillery and other troops, was under the command of General Hawley, and sailed from Fortress Monroe the 4th of November, the Eleventh being one of the regiments on the steamer General Lyon.

Lieutenant Maxfield was in command of the Eleventh at this time, as he, a reenlisted veteran, was the ranking officer with the regiment, so many of its officers had been mustered out by the reason of the expiration of their terms of service, or were detached on headquarters service. Arriving in New York harbor the morning of the 6th of November, on the morning of the 7th the troops landed at Fort Richmond, on Staten Island, and went on board steamers which took them to points along the river front of New York City. The 11th Maine, 3d New Hampshire, 13th Indiana and 112th New York regiments and Battery M, of the 1st U.S. Artillery, went on board the ferryboat Westfield and proceeded to Pier 42, North River. The force lay there through the 8th (election day), the 9th and 10th, and until the 11th, when the authorities becoming satisfied that the knowledge of the short, sharp fate rioting mobs would meet with at the hands of the grim veterans on the river front, had secured a peaceful election period; the force returned to Fort Richmond, and after a couple of days spent in this stronghold, embarked the 14th (the Eleventh on the steamer North Point), and put to sea that night. Arriving at Fortress Monroe, the provisional division formation was discontinued and the regiments proceeded each to its own camp ground, the Eleventh reaching its camp ground on Chapin's Farm the 17th of November. In its camp, in charge of the guard left to care for the regimental baggage, the regiment found 201 recruits to be distributed through its skeleton companies. The strengthened Eleventh then proceeded to prepare its winter quarters. The personnel and the organization of the regiment of the winter of 1865 were largely changed from what they were when the regiment first landed at Bermuda Hundred. For the field and staff, it was now Colonel Hill instead of Colonel Plaisted, Lieutenant-Colonel Baldwin instead of Lieutenant-Colonel Spofford, Adjutant Fox had accepted a commission in a regiment destined for adventurous service among the Indians of the western frontier, and Chaplain Wells had gone to sow his pearls of truth in a less porcine parish, and its companies were about as completely changed. Take D for a fair example – Captain Mudgett was still a prisoner; First Lieutenant Sellmer, who had been on detached service at division headquarters for months, was promoted to the Captaincy of Company B; Second Lieutenant Maxfield, who had been made First Lieutenant of D when Lieutenant Sellmer was promoted, was now made Captain of H, a rapid promotion but fairly won by his conspicuous service in the campaign just ended, where he had shown marked executive ability as commanding officer of D since the 2d of June, when he took up the charge Captain Mudgett then laid down. Lieutenant Perkins, who joined the company in July as Second Lieutenant, had been promoted to First Lieutenant and was now the commanding officer of D. Of the Sergeants of D in May, Bassett was dead, Blake was yet a prisoner, Francis had been mustered out, Brady was First Lieutenant of Company I, and the only one remaining with the company was Young, now its Second Lieutenant, a deserved honor for the gallantry he had displayed in many engagements, and for the fidelity with which he had served the company as Acting First Sergeant in 1862, and again in 1863, and as Acting First Sergeant and First Sergeant in 1864. Of the Corporals and Privates making up the strength of D when it landed at Bermuda Hundred, some had been killed, many had died of wounds, many more were too disabled by wounds to reenter active service, and others had served their full three years and had been mustered out. Although the Eleventh Maine of the campaign of 1865 was largely different in material and organization from that of 1864, yet the work it did in the assault on Petersburgh and in the pursuit of Lee showed that the regiment was still worthy of its honored name. The changes were not confined to the regiment. A new brigade commander was given us in Colonel Dandy of the 100th New York, the ranking Colonel of the brigade now that Colonel Plaisted had resigned, General Foster had become division commander, and the corps was no longer the Tenth, but the Twenty-fourth, and in command of General Gibbon, formerly a division commander of the Second Corps, while the army of the James was now commanded by General Ord, formerly of the Eighteenth Corps, which corps was now the Twenty-fifth. The newly organized Twenty-fourth Army Corps was fortunate in its composition of veteran troops, and in its commander a West Pointer with a practical military experience since the opening of the war and always in positions of responsibility, till his bravery and his devotion to every duty devolving on him had won him the command of the corps. Though a strict disciplinarian, and a stern man at need, as we soon found, General Gibbon was a kindly man and with a bit of sentiment in his make-up, for when he selected a heart as a badge for our new corps he promulgated an order in which he said: "The symbol selected testifies our affectionate regard for all our brave comrades, alike the living and the dead, and our devotion to our sacred cause." True and well said, every word touching a sympathetic chord, and for this assurance that he was one with them in sympathy, hope and devotion, the hearts of his men went out to the General, and from then on he could look for unswerving fidelity from both officers and men. A happy beginning for the new corps; contributing no little to the brilliancy of its services in the short and glorious campaign of 1865, when it assaulted and carried strongly entrenched and strongly held positions, and marched day and night with a speed and endurance unequalled in the history of the war, until it flung itself across Lee's path and withstood the last charge of the Army of Northern Virginia.