The Washington bee., 1889-05-18
THE COLORED TROOPS AT
PETERSBURG.
Century Magazine


utterance. The joyous negro gufaw
always breaking out about the
campfire ceased. They formed cir
cles in thier company streets and
were sitting on the ground intently
and solemnly "stuyding," At last
a heavy voice began to slng'' Wee.
looks like me-en "a marchin,
On, we looks like me-er-war"
Over aud over again he sang it,
making slight changes. The rest
watched him intently; no sign of
approval or disapproval escaped
their lips, or appered on their faces.
All at once, when his refrain had
struck the right response in their
hearts, his group took it up, and
shortly half a thousand voices were
appraised. 1t was a picturesque
scene, these dark men, with their
eyes and teeth and full red lips
crouching over smoldering cam
fire, in duskey shadow, with only
the feeble rays of the lanterns of the
first sergants and the lights of can
dies dimly showing through the
tents. The sound was as weird as
the scene, when all the voices
struck the low "E F" last note but
one1, held it, and then rose to "a"
with portamento as sonorous as
it was clumsy. Until we fought the
battle of the crater they sang this
every night to the exclusion of all
other songs. After that defeat they
sang it no more.
About 3 A. M. the morning ofthe
battle we were up after a short
sleep under arms. Then came the
soldiers hasty breakfast. "Never
fight on empty stomach was a
proverbmore honored inthat army
than any of Solomon; for the full
stomach helped the wounded man
to live through much loss ofblood.
This morning our breakfast was
much like that on other mornings
when we could not make fires: two
pieces of hard-tack with slice of
raw, fat salt pork between = not a
dainty meal, but solid provender
to fight on. BY good fortune [ had
a bottle ofcucumber pickles. These
| distributed to the officers about
me. They were gratefully accepted,
for nothing cuts the fat of raw
salt pork lick a pickle. We moist
ened our repast with black coffee
from our canteens. The privates
Jared the same, barring the luxury
of the pickle.
We had been told that the mine
would be fired at 3:45 A. M. But 4
o'clock arrived, and all was quiet.
Not long after that came a dull,
heavy thud, not at all startling;
it was a heavy smothered sound,
not nearly 80 distinct as a musket-
shot. Could this be the mine? No;
impossible. There was no charging
no yelIs, neither the deep mouhted
bass growl of the Union troops,
nor the sharp, shrill, fox-hunting
cryof the Confederates. Here was
a mine blown up, making crater
from $50 to 200 feet long, 80 wide
and 80 deep, and the detonation
and the conclusion were 80 incon-
siderable to US, not over a third
of mile away, that we could hard
ly believe the report of a staff
officer, back from the line, that
the great mine had been exploded.
At about 5: 80 A. M. a fairly mu.
sketry fire from the enemy had
opened. Shortly after, as we lay
upon our arms awaiting what
orders might come, a quiet voice
behind me said" "Who commands
this brigad y" 81 do" L replied.
Rising, and turning toward the
voice, [ saw General Grant. He
was in his usual dress: a broad
brimmed felt bat, and the ordinary
coat of private. He wore no
sword. Colonel Horace Porter, bis
aide-de-camp, and single ordely
accompanied him. SWELL" said
the general, slowly and thought.
fully, as if communing with him.
self rather than addressing sub
ordinate, "why are you not in p
Pointing to the First Brigade just
in my front l replied, "My orders
are to follow that brigade" Feel
ing that golden opportunities might
be slipping away from us, added
"Will you give me the order to 60
In now?' after moments hesitation
he answered in the sane slou ond