Ozaukee County's
War History
by Daniel E. McGinley

as extracted from THE PORT WASHINGTON STAR
November 13, 1897



Life in the Trenches
Chapter 1

Having promised some of my readers that before closing these war sketches, I would endeavor to write a description of the intrenchments around Atlanta, and the life of a soldier in them during the eventful siege of that city in the summer of 1864, I have, on the eve of my departure for the Old World, hastily penned the following, in which I have written of that part of the line in which my regiment, the Sixteenth Wisconsin, was located, and of fortifications, incidents and experiences personally seen and encountered there. The sketch is rather crude, but not having time to revise it, the writer must send it to the printer as it is, hoping that his readers will overlook its imperfections, and gain from it a faint idea of the picture it was his desire to pen.

During the Atlanta campaign, the soldiers of Sherman's and Johnston's armies did a vast amount of intrenching and fortifying for they were nearly all veterans who from experience well knew the great value of good defenses, and before the campaign ended, Sherman at least had an army of experts in intrenching and fortifying. The rebel army received a great deal of help from the poor slaves whom they forced to work on the fortifications and intrenchments, but our army had no such assistance. So thoroughly did Shermanís troops become convinced that intrenchments and breastworks were necessities that each company, in our part of the army at least, carried along four or five shovels, two or three axes, and two or three pick-axes or mattocks. These tools were divided among the men, each carrying one of them in his turn, the officers often taking their turns at "packing" the tools; and when more were needed, and the division wagon train was near, thousands of them could be found on the wagons that accompanied the ammunition trains.

Let the reader come with me, in imagination, during one of those hot July days when the troops of Shermanís magnificent army were closing in on Atlanta. We strap on our traps, shoulder our long Springfield rifles, and taking our places in a long column of blue which is winding along a dusty road toward the "Gate City," go tramping on through the heat and dust, up hill and down, over bridges and through streams -- on, on, with the perspiration streaming from every pore, while the boom! boom! of cannon far ahead made us hurry faster, for we know that some of our comrades there may be needing our assistance badly. We near the scene of strife and now can hear the skirmish lines, which sounds very much like an old-fashioned chopping-bee where two or three scores of axes were going at one time. "Whir-r-r! whiz-z-z! bur-r-r! chug!! bang!!!" Oh! don't get alarmed, that was only a shell flying over our heads and busting a short distance to our rear. Presently, we see the battery in the rear of our brigade leave the road and trot off to the top of a hill not far away, and unlimbered there. Almost before we had gone a dozen steps, the four guns of the battery have opened fire, the sharp, ringing, cracking sound of the rifled pieces mingling with the whirring sounds of the shells as they go sailing over into the distant timber ìfeeling for the enemy.î

More shells came howling back from the rebel battery and drop uncomfortably near our column, but other doings are occupying our attention just now. Young staff officers go galloping past, and now we see the head of our division leave the road and file off at right angles into the woods. We follow suit and after marching thus for some distance, with shells screaming over us and knocking the limbs and bark from the trees, we are halted, "fronted" and ìdressedî in line of battle. Presently a staff officer rides up to our regimental commander, salutes and says: "Gen. B- sends is compliments, and as the enemy shows signs of advancing, advises you to intrench your lines here. We must hold this line at all hazards!" The men near by have heard the orders, and almost before the staff officer has finished speaking, they know what is wanted of them. The guns are quickly stacked, traps are unbuckled and left to their ownersí places in the line, and then ranks are broken, intrenching tools are seized and the men go to work.

A few feet in front of the line of gun stacks, the breastwork must be built and the trench dug. More tools are needed and the company commander says quietly: "John, you and Ed run back and see whether the tool wagons have got up. If they have, bring all the tools you can carry." Off go John and Ed on a run, and in a few minutes, they return staggering under loads of tools. Some of the men cut down trees, and cut the limbs off. Ten to twenty men seize the long log and carry it to the line laid out for the works. The "revetment" (the inside perpendicular side of the breastwork) is built of logs and rails; brush, stones, and many other things are piled outside of the logs, and while all this is being done, a force of men with shovels, picks, and mattocks are busily engaged in digging a ditch or trench on the inside of the works, throwing the loose earth over the revetment. Thus, while the pile of earth is rising on the outside, the bottom of the trench where the men will stand to load and fire, is rapidly lowering, and in a remarkably short time, the heighth from the bottom of the trench to the "parapet" will be sufficient. If there is then time to do so before the threatened assault comes, the shovelers go to work on the outside of the works, digging a ditch there and throwing the dirt removed from it upon the slope from the parapet, so as to strengthen the work and make it strong enough to stop a shell or cannon ball. At the same time, the axe-men cut down trees a foot or more in diameter at the butt, and a number of small trees out of which to make poles fifteen to twenty feet in length. The poles are placed about ten feet apart, with one end lying on the parapet, and the other on the ground back of the trench on the inside of the works. A notch is cut in the ends of the poles lying on the parapet, and in those notches, the long logs, a foot or more in thickness are laid. This is what we call the "headlog" - a protection for the heads of the men standing in the trench inside of the works. The poles thus placed under the "headlog" serve two purposes: they keep the log two or three inches above the parapet, thus leaving an opening through which the soldier could see the approaching enemy and fire without exposing his own person to a return fire, and should the headlog be struck by a shell or cannon ball, the poles act as skids upon which the log will roll back to the ground without dropping on or harming the men in the trench.

But often the enemy did not delay their attacking long enough to thus allow us to finish our breastworks. Sometimes when the works were about half completed, one or two or our skirmishers came running back to get a fresh supply of ammunition, and to tell us that the enemy is advancing several lines deep. Soon the "ping!" "zip!" "spat!" of the minies passing over us warn us that our skirmish line is being driven in, and presently two of his comrades come carrying back a wounded skirmisher, and they have hardly passed him over the works when the skirmish fire in our front increases to an uninterrupted rattle, and we hear an occasional ìyi!î ìyi!î which tells us that the rebel skirmishers are exerting themselves to the utmost. The enemy's artillery has opened all along the line, and the shells and minies are coming so thickly that we are forced to seize our arms and traps and seek the protection of our unfinished works. In a few minutes, our skirmishers appear, as they are forced back by the enemy, turning to shoot back every few yards, and when they came within a few rods of our works, they break into a run and jump into our trench as quickly as possible. The rebel skirmishers now see our main line and their advance is checked until joined by their first line of battle when they boldly advance.

Orders are given us and repeated, to not fire until the rebs are within easy range, and then to fire at their knees, as our rifles carry very high and we aim a foot or more below the part of the body we wish to strike. When men become a little excited, they nearly always shoot too high; and as scarcely any one can watch a large force advance to attack him without feeling a little nervous, the officers always warn their men to "keep cool and aim low!" It is easy enough to "aim low," but the "keeping cool" part is more difficult. The grey line is now within a hundred yards. There is a clicking of gun locks, a moment's aim, a sheet of flame flashes along our parapet, and with a tearing, ripping sound that is hard to describe, our line sends a shower of lead sweeping through the intervening timber, cutting bark from the trees and lopping the underbrush, and then tearing through the line of grey knocking men down by the score. The line wavers and seems to be on the point of flying from the field, but the officers and brave comrades quickly rally it, and as there is a minute's respite while we are reloading, they drop their muskets into a ìtrial,î and with their old, wild, peculiar yell, charged up the slope on a run. But their courage is of no avail; they are met by such a rapid and effective fire that they were checked before they reach our works, and the next moment we can see them through the openings in the clouds of smoke, with their backs turned toward us and running for dear life.

Later in the day, the assault is repeated once, twice, or three times, and then they draw off and let us finish our line of defenses. In a day or two, we receive orders to advance our lines. In close proximity to the enemy, such advances are usually made under cover of darkness, and night finds us all in marching order and in line of battle behind our works, awaiting the signal to start. Soon the order, "forward, guide right (or left, as the case may be); march!" is given, and climbing over the works, we reform, and touching elbows march forward into the darkness with as little noise as possible. As we near our picket or skirmish line, it leaves the protection of its rifle-pits, and crawls along silently through the darkness in the direction of the rebel picket line, which can be located by the flashes of their guns. It is not long before the lack of shots from our side make the rebel pickets suspicious, and their men are all on the alert. On we go, tearing our clothes and disarranging our tempers as we struggled through the underbrush and briars, and soon reach the edge of a large clearing in which the enemy's lines are located. Just then there is a volley of shots, followed by yells and more volleys, as our skirmishers are discovered near the rebel rifle-pits and charge with a yell. There is a short, sharp contest; rifle and pistol shots, yells, oaths and commands ring out on the night air, and then the rebels are driven from their pits and go back to their main line on the run, while their artillery opens all along the line. Our artillery, still stationed in the works we have just left, opens in reply, and soon the heaven seems to be alive with shrieking fiery shells, whose blazing paths cross and recross each other until darkness is almost dispelled. It is a grand, yet a fearful scene, and we feel as though we would like to view it from a safe distance, but don't like it one bit as it is. The force on our skirmish line is doubled, and while part of it holds the enemy at bay, the other part goes to work with pick and shovel, and soon converts the captured rifle-pits into a line facing the other way, or go a little beyond them and erect a new line, after which they are careful to raze the captured one.

The main line is halted some distance -- a quarter of a mile or less -- in the rear of the skirmish line, and after a short delay in which the most favorable line is selected, we stack arms upon it, and go to work to fortify it more strongly than we did the first line. Part of the men seize the intrenching tools and make the dirt fly, while more run in every direction to find materials with which to build the revetment, returning with rails, timber from barns, stables, and sometimes with timber, scantling and lumber which until then were doing service in some deserted farm-house. In this line of works we do not dig a trench inside as we did in the first one, for we know that we are now so close to the enemy that we will be constantly exposed to the fire from their picket line, and we must try to build our works so that we will be protected by them when standing on the ground in their rear. A trench or ditch is dug some twelve feet from he revetment, wide enough to furnish earth enough to bank up as high as the revetment and ten or twelve feet in thickness. The revetment is built high enough for a gun-rest for a medium sized man, and when it and the embankment of earth has been finished, headlogs and their accompanying skids are carried from the neighboring woods and placed in position.

(Officers of European armies who visited our army at this time, often expressed their amazement at seeing the rank and file doing so quickly and skillfully, without the advice of engineers, what was done in other countries by a corps of ìsappers and minersî under the direction of scientific staff.)

We now have a line of works that are shell proof as well as bullet-proof, and when finished we spread our blankets in its rear and slept on our arms until day-break, when we are roused from our slumbers by rapid firing and fierce yelling on our picket line, which the enemy had attacked in considerable force. The command ìfall in!î passes down the line, and hastily buckling on our traps, we are in line behind the works, where we fix our bayonets, look to the priming of our rifles, and await developments.

As the rising sun lights up the scene, the rebel artillerists discover our new line of works, and open on us with shot and shell, while the conflict at the skirmish line increases in fierceness. Our artillery now opens in replay and the din rises to the dignity of a battle, but soon the enemy discovers that he cannot easily drive back our picket line, and that we are there with the intention of remaining for some time, and the fire slackens until it assumes its usual volume.

Two or three days later we make another night advance and build another line of works and the nearer we get to the enemy's main line, the fiercer the fighting becomes. Finally, after building three or four lines of works, we get so close to the rebels that we cannot go nearer unless we dig our way foot by foot and here we erect extra strong works and settle down to the routine of the siege. This line of works is similar to the last one described, but its embankment is thicker, and on its edge, projecting over the ditch is a row of sharpened sticks set firmly in the ground and near together, extending above the surface a yard or more, and so strong that it is difficult to force a passage through without the aid of an axe. This is the ìpalisade.î A few rods from the outer edge of the ditch a row of tree tops are hid closely together with the small limbs cut off and the large ones trimmed and pointed, the points toward the enemy. The butts are buried in the ground or are fastened together in some way. This is the "abatis," and is a very troublesome obstruction to force a way through. If we can get the tools and have the time, we place a line of "cheval-de-frise" outside of all. This is made by taking long logs ten inches to a foot in diameter, through which we bore holes and drive two inch wooden stakes or spikes in every direction and but a few inches apart. The spikes are long enough to extend about three feet on each side of the timber, and are sharpened at both ends. The logs thus spiked are placed end to end, the ends fastened firmly together, and form a continuous line of spikes that are so close and firm that it is impossible for a man to pass through without cutting off three rows of them with an axe or saw. A line of men could seize a ìcheval-de-friseî and roll it over and over, but no matter which side is up, it presents the same formidable lines of sharpened stakes or spikes.