SURRENDER OF VICKSBURG—Our division moves with Sherman's army against Johnson—DISASTROUS CHARGE OF COLONEL PUGH'S BRIGADE—The blame imputed to General Lauman—His parting orders—Our losses—Conclusion.

The first indication of the enemy's desire to capitulate, was a flag of truce which was seen to approach our lines from a point near Fort Hill. The firing immediately ceased at that point, and gradually died away to the right and left. The enemy's troops became more bold, and began to appear along their rifle pits. Ours likewise began to show themselves, and before noon the works of either side were lined with their respective uniforms, blue and grey. In some cases the antagonists mingled, and many of the enemy came into our camps, but General Grant ordered them to be sent back. So thick was the smoke, that it was not before 11 o'clock that the fleet saw the signal to cease firing. About one o'clock the flag of truce went back, and the firing again began at that point, and was soon resumed along the line, and within an hour the fleet again opened. About three o'clock another flag of truce came out; the firing again ceased, and the troops of either side appeared on their works much more readily than before. Orders soon after came for the firing to be permanently discontinued. Our troops lay in their rifle pits all night, in the highest spirits. Daylight found the rebels in plain view all along their works, and our boys likewise coming out of their holes to see what they could see. It was the Fourth of July. At eight o'clock a national salute was fired with blank cartridges from the batteries along our entire line. About ten o'clock, from the position of our regiment, with a field glass, the enemy might be seen to take down his flag from Fort Hill, and hoist a white flag in its stead. Then two men started, each with a bundle of white flags, and proceeded either way, hoisting them along the works. As each flag was raised, the men in front of it would cheer frantically, and all along our lines the boys from the tops of their works began to sing national airs, while the rebels from theirs listened in gloomy silence. Soon the late combatants mingled together, the rebels streaming through all our camps. Their salutations were characteristic of their situation. "Boys," they would say, shaking hands, "this is strange; yesterday we were trying to kill each other, now we are meeting as friends." For the most part the rebels seemed quite disheartened; and many of them, speaking of the war, used an expression which seemed to have become proverbial among them: "This is the rich man's quarrel, but the poor man's fight." Thus they mingled together, victor and vanquished,—smoked, played cards, and, over pots of hot coffee, discussed the war and related their adventures, like old comrades who, after a long absence, had just met.

But the troops of our division were not allowed the privilege of mingling long with their late foes. Our division was among the troops assigned to Sherman by orders from General Grant, with which, in the event of the success of the proposed assault on the sixth of July, he was to take the field immediately against Johnson. He was found in force around Jackson, strongly entrenched. It was not attempted to carry his works by assault; this was deemed impracticable, and the operations of a siege commenced.

The line of siege was formed on the eleventh, Hovey and Lauman, of Ord's corps, being on the extreme right. On the morning of the 12th, the 33d Wisconsin was sent across the Mississippi Central Railroad to Pearl River, and the 28th Illinois took their places in the 1st Brigade. Thus it seems as if fate had decreed that this gallant regiment, which had suffered side by side with ours in the disastrous bend of the Hatchie, should under the same generals suffer useless butchery now. In its first battle, the Third Iowa had fought for honor, but with some hope of victory; and now, in what was probably to be its last one, it was to fight for honor, but without hope;—nay, even to advance upon death itself, without the least encouragement of success.

Having disposed his divisions, General Ord ordered the generals commanding them to advance their lines. The left of our 1st Brigade was at that time considerably behind the right of Hovey. The troops moved forward as steadily as upon review, without hesitating or swerving, or showing any signs of precipitancy. It was a sight calculated to captivate the eye of a spectator, and fill with pride the heart of any general. What wonder? Were they not veterans, imbrowned by long exposure, and at home amid the elements of battle?

Colonel Pugh's skirmishers soon became hotly engaged. He reported the fact to General Lauman, who ordered him to continue to advance. He pushed back the enemy's skirmishers, till he came within sight of his main works, formidable in appearance, his guns pointing through embrasures, and his field of fire level and unobstructed (even the corn-stalks being cut down), affording no possible cover to an advancing line. The colonel now reported in person his position to General Lauman; but the general still ordered him to advance. He returned, and swept with his eye the field. There was the enemy's long line of works, showing the mouths of his defiant cannon, and near him the remnant of his gallant brigade, now only eight hundred strong, which he was ordered to destroy. It must have been a harrowing moment to him. What was he to do? His order was imperative, and he was too true a soldier to question, much less to disobey it. To advance partially and then retreat, would seem to exhibit cowardice, and would be worse than to refuse to advance at all. To advance within musket range, and halt and engage the enemy, would be to court destruction without preserving honor, and without the possibility of injuring him. Besides, he was not instructed to halt at all. He gave the order to his men, and the line moved steadily forward, without support or diversion on the right or left, or a single shell having been thrown to test the enemy's strength, or prepare their way. From regimental commanders to the rank and file—all were astonished. At first they supposed it was to be a general charge of the line, but their eyes soon undeceived them. A terrible realization of their situation came over them; but no one faltered or looked back. They had won too much glory on former fields to sully that record now. They must preserve honor, though they lost all else.

The enemy opened with fourteen pieces, and two brigades of infantry rose from their concealment, and poured a converging fire upon them. Colonel Pugh gave the command to charge; the men raised the shout and sprang forward through that thick storm of death. A few moments, and all was over. The line crumbled into broken bands, which arrived within pistol-shot of the embrasures, and halted and staggered and were swept away. Those who escaped had scarcely time to notice who had fallen. Back in the woods, where the advance had first commenced, they rallied—all that was left, but less than half the number that had advanced into that terrific fire. The Third Iowa had saved both its flag and banner; and now, of the two hundred and ten that advanced in the charge, but ninety could be rallied around them. Nearly all who were not there were killed, wounded or captured. General Lauman wept when he gazed on this remnant of his old brigade. Gen. Ord immediately relieved him of his command, and ordered him to report to Gen. Grant, at Vicksburg.[3]

Under the excitement of the moment, most voices were loud in imputing this disaster to him. No one could believe that he intended that this handful of men should charge unsupported a portion of the enemy's works. But all attributed it to his misunderstanding the orders of General Ord. Thus in common opinion the fault rested with these two generals. Either the one had communicated his orders unintelligibly, or the other had culpably misunderstood them. As generals are not apt to solicit the arbitrament of public opinion upon their conduct, and commonly keep their own secrets, we are only able to form conjectures in this matter. Calm reflection, however, can not but allow that it was unfair to lay the whole blame to a general, who, on all previous fields, had behaved with the gallantry and merit that had distinguished General Lauman. It is notable, that after there had been time for reflection, those of the division loudest in condemning him did not belong to the 1st Brigade. Nor is there a more striking instance of the ingratitude of common opinion, than in the case of those, who, in censuring him for this affair, forgot the general of Belmont, Fort Donelson, Shiloh and the Hatchie.[4]

The casualties of this affair were deplorable. Each regiment was literally torn in pieces. In proportion to their numbers the 53d Illinois suffered most, to say nothing of losing their gallant Colonel Earle, who was struck by a volley of canister while riding in advance of his men. Our own regiment lost one hundred and thirteen, sixteen being killed, fifty-seven wounded, and forty missing and taken prisoners. A number of the wounds were mortal. Among those who lost their lives were some of our best names. The Ruckman brothers, the one Captain, the other 2d Lieutenant of Company B; 1st Lieutenant Hall, of the same company; and 1st Lieutenant McMurtry of Company D; 1st Sergeants Woodruff of Company B, and McClure of Company I; Sergeants Gilmore and Dent of Company E, Follett of Company F, and many other gallant names were among the sacrifices of this needless blunder. It would gratify me to mention the whole list of casualties in full—it would be a roll of honor indeed—but as I could not obtain those of our other battles, I have refrained from giving this. Besides, their names deserve better memorial than mere mention in such a book as this. Among the severely wounded were Colonel Brown, Captain Geary, and Lieutenant Abernethy,—officers whose conduct here and on former fields, needs no eulogy from such a pen as mine. But I will not further dwell upon this affair—the saddest chapter of all my "recollections."

After the capture of Jackson, our regiment returned with Sherman's army to Vicksburg, and with the division was soon after ordered to Natchez, where it was stationed till winter, when it again returned to Vicksburg, and was stationed for a while in rear of that place, at Hebron. It has just returned to Vicksburg from Sherman's remarkable expedition to the Alabama line.

Comrades of the 3d Iowa! Thus far I have endeavored to follow you in this narrative through your campaigns and battles, to describe, as I saw them, some of the scenes you saw, and, as I felt and understood them, some of the hardships you suffered. I am as sensible as you can be, of how partially I have succeeded. To me, who came among you curious to see some of the pictures of war, your sufferings have seemed unreal, your exploits like romance. None but those who have been soldiers can ever understand these things. I am aware that I am addressing the 3d Iowa only in name—that I am addressing but a remnant of the gallant band that assembled under our regimental flag at Keokuk, nearly three years ago. Of the others, many have been promoted, and are now serving honorably in other corps; one who commanded us in our most memorable battle, is Governor of our State; many have been taken from the service by wounds and disease, and many have fallen and perished—where? We may ask the cemeteries of almost every hospital in the West; the fields of Blue Mills, Shiloh, Matamora, Vicksburg and Jackson; the prairies of Missouri, and the woods of Tennessee and Mississippi, whose hostile soil has received them to its bosom; and the soil of their once happy homes to which the ashes of some of them have been removed. But they are not dead—we can not call them dead; for they live, and will live in affectionate remembrance as long as lives a member of the 3d Iowa. And of those who suffer from wounds received or diseases contracted while serving with us, let no one say that he has found one who, for relief from those sufferings, would be willing to give up the grand memories of the past, and the consciousness of honor merited—though it be not recorded—by hazard, hardship and gallant service in a glorious cause.

In taking leave of you, I would I could pay a sufficient tribute to those of you who have heretofore served and still serve in the grades of enlisted men. The people do not seem to understand this matter. They are not convinced that military rank alone is not an evidence of merit. They seem to have forgotten how many army officers of different grades, at the outbreak of the rebellion, betrayed their commands, and rushed to the standard of the traitors, while the private soldiers—whose services, considered menial, had neither been honored nor paid—through obloquy, persecution and imprisonment, remained true to their country and their trust. They will not believe that preferment comes less by actual merit than by favoritism, intrigue or accident. They are slow to understand, that the hardships you suffer the commissioned officer does not always suffer in common with you. But be assured they will one day understand these things; and when they come to make a final award of honors to their gallant defenders, it will not be asked of any, "Was he a captain or a colonel?" but rather, "Did he do his whole duty in the place assigned him?" They will count your motives, in engaging in the war, unimpeachable. You have not served for money; you have not expected your toils and sufferings to be thus requited. You have not served for spoils; for you knew that the war would be conducted on civilized principles, and that there would be no spoils to divide. You have not served for the "bauble reputation;" for you well know how poor a chance you have had of gaining that. With whatever merit you may have served the operations of the war, your names have seldom been mentioned in official reports; officers alone, with few exceptions, enjoying the privilege of being able to have their names thus recorded among the military archives of the country. No: your motives have been higher and worthier than these. You have suffered most and have sought and received the fewest rewards. What you have not achieved in the gaining of money or personal reputation, you will one day receive in honor. History will dwell with delight upon the skill and resolution of the generals who have led you to victory; it will dwell with delight both upon them and you. But if it admire their conduct as splendid, it will reverence yours as sublime. Nor think your services will be thankless. Time, which metes out justice to all, will see your sacrifices acknowledged and your merits recognized. The hearts of the great people that compose the Republic will go out in praise and gratitude to you. Public honors will come to reward your now humble services. Posterity will record you, as being among those who offered all they had, that the nation and liberty might live, an "all unclouded glory;" and on your names will attend, "The tears and praises of all time."

Comrades!—Your friends are gratified to learn, that what remains of the 3d Iowa has re-enlisted as a veteran regiment. Fields of honor are yet before you, and it is for you to participate in the last glorious deeds of the war. This thought should afford you no ordinary gratification; for to have fought both on its first and last fields will be counted no common honor. Your past record is one of glory; there are no fears that you will not continue to deserve it. Committing this book to you, and assuring you that though absent and serving in another corps, I am still with you in the memories and feelings of the past, I bid you an affectionate farewell.