Ozaukee County's
War History
by Daniel E. McGinley

as extracted from THE PORT WASHINGTON STAR
November 20, 1897



Life in the Trenches
Chapter 2

"Bomb-proof" forts were then built on every prominent rise of ground in our main line, and were from an eighth to a quarter of a mile apart. You "have never seen a bomb-proof"? Well, come with me and we will go over to one on the left of our brigade. You see a large mound of freshly delved earth on the crest of the hill there; that is the exterior of the bomb-proof. To reach it safely, we must follow this ravine leading to its rear, in order to avoid and keep out of sight of the sharp-sighted Johnnies. As we ascend the slope directly in the rear of the fort, we see a large opening near the summit of the hill, which looks like a large cave. That is the open side of the bomb-proof. When we get nearer, we see a battery of four saucy-looking rifled 12-pounder field pieces, protected from above and on three sides by a solid roof and walls of green timber and earth of about twenty feet in thickness, the rear side being open. The roof extends the whole length of the battery -- over 100 feet, and is supported by huge posts of green timber about eight feet in length. You wonder at the massiveness and solidity of the work, when you are told that the whole structure was but the work of a single night; and ask how that was possible, considering the situation -- within easy range of the enemy's main and picket lines. It was indeed a great undertaking, but nothing uncommon in this campaign. After dark one night, many willing boys in the blue went to work with intrenching tools, and in the morning, the rebels were greatly surprised to see a strong, well built fort on this hill, from the embrasures of which four saucy guns were hurling shot and shell right into their city. Yes, there was a great deal of hard labor performed by Shermanís boys on these fortifications. They would almost as soon work as fight, any day.

The roof of the fort, which is not quite as thick as the sides, extends back some twenty feet; and in the sides facing the enemy are four embrasures, one in front of each gun and each filled by a "gabion" to keep out the musket balls. The gabions are so fixed that they can be easily swung to one side when the artillerists wish to fire the guns. When they are removed, we see the enemy's works through an opening or embrasure which is about three feet square on the inside of the revetment, and widening rapidly toward the outer edge of the embankment, so as to allow the guns to fire in different directions. Under the guns is a plank floor; stacks of cannon balls, grape shot and cannister are piled near each gun; the caissons and limbers stand near, and the bunks or beds of the men are ranged along the wall at either end of the bomb-proof -- all under cover and safe from shot or shell.

As we stand inspecting our surroundings, a signal is given, and the members of the battery step quickly and silently to their positions, and prepare for action, they having orders to annoy the enemy at intervals during the day and evening. In a few seconds, the guns are loaded, the gabions are removed and the officers are hurriedly surveying the scene in front through their glasses. All the embrasures are then closed but one, through which a gun pokes its nose, a careful aim is quickly taken, and then with a sharp, ringing crack, a shell is sent shrieking on its death-dealing errand, while the gun runs back in its recoil until stopped by a strong rope or check line, which prevents it from running off the plank floor. We have just time to see that the embrasure is filled with smoke when it is hastily closed with the gabion, and not a moment too soon for we hear the bullets from he enemy's picket "spat" spitefully against the gabion as it swings into place, their riflemen having fired as soon as they saw that the embrasure was open. Now two more embrasures are opened, the guns run out, and a moment later their sharp, ringing reports almost deafen us, and the embrasures are again closed.

Thus they continue to load and fire, but as we cannot see the effects of their shots from within, we go outside of the fort to watch the course of the shells. We are no sooner outside than we hear the spiteful "zip" of the minies as they pass over our heads, and stooping low, we get into the breastworks of the infantry adjoining the fort and look through the loop-hole under the headlog, for if we exposed even a small part of our bodies to the Johnnies, we would quickly feel the effects of their bullets. From our loop-hole, we see before us a wide, clear valley the ground sloping down from our feet until the lowest depression is reached about sixty feet lower than were we stand, and about eighty rods distant; and thence rising in an easy slope to the top of a further hill -- the watershed upon which are the railways leading south from Atlanta and the enemy's fortifications.

Directly opposite us is a large boom-proof fort, over which flaunts the Stars and Bars of the so-called Confederacy, and on either side of the fort we see the strong breastworks of the rebel infantry, the fort and breastworks protected from assault by numerous kinds of obstructions including those above described. Near the foot of the hill upon which we stand are the well constructed rifle-pits of our picket line; while on the farther side of the valley is a line of similar pits occupied by the enemy's pickets. The land on our side of the valley had been partly covered with timber up to the time our Yankee army took possession of it, but it is now quite clear, the timber having been cut down in front of our battery and for some distance on each side. The tree-tops have been arranged into a strong abatis in front of our fort, and a strong palisade extends over the ditch. Constant puffs of smoke rise from both lines of rifle-pits, and the minies sing musically and otherwise over our heads, or plump into the sand of the breastworks. The distance between the two opposing forts is about three fourths of a mile -- a nice, easy range for the artillery. To our left front, but hidden from our view by intervening timber, is another rebel fort, which contains a big siege gun -- a 64 pounder. Our boys soon learned to recognize the report of this gun, and its shell always attracts attention when it comes flying over us with its blood-curdling scream; but we have discovered it is more noisy than dangerous, for it strikes far in our rear where it does little or no harm. Should it ever happen to strike our breastworks in a weak spot, it will make more than one think of his past and "strike a balance" in life's ledger. It struck a large live-oak log on a deserted line of works in our rear the other day, and went through it like a dull knife through soft butter.

The guns in our fort are talking again, and we will soon hear a reply from the enemy. Crack! crack! barks our little guns and shells go howling across the valley, some striking into the side of the rebel fort, throwing up clouds of smoke and sand, while other going into the camp beyond. Again a shell goes down among the Johnnies in the rifle-pits, striking so true to the mark that we hear the blue coats in our pits yelling and cheering like mad. But every shot from our cannon is answered by dozens of minies from the rebel pits, which patter around or whistle through the embrasures, and often, alas, too often, they lodge in the body of some brave artillerist. The battery boys close the embrasures after every shot from their guns, but they cannot keep all the minies out.

Now we have to keep a sharp lookout, for there goes a puff of smoke from an embrasure in the enemy's fort and we can hear a shell coming directly toward us. The soldiers near us hear it also, and their ears have become so well educated to such sounds that they are instantly aware of the approaching danger. Dropping everything, they dive into the security of their works, while the shell strikes on the outside near the parapet, and bursting there, sends a shower of sand flying over and around us, through which fragments of the shell can be heard whir-r-r-ing harmlessly away. A shout of laughter bursts from some of the boys near us (as soon as they see that the danger has past and no harm has been done), for some of their number made ridiculous haste to reach cover, and their antics will be the theme of campfire stories for years to come.

But now the Johnnies have got to work in earnest, and shells came flying around us so thickly that we are very thankful for the protection afforded by our strong earthworks. We hug closely to the revetment, hardly daring to peek under the headlog, and listening intently to the commotion around us. The soldiers near us pass away the time, and make light of the danger, by shouting: "Lie down!" "Grab a root!" "Come in out of the wet!" "There's music in the air!" "It looks as if wese gwine to hab a storm!" "Do they miss you at home?" "Whoopíer up, Johnnie, whopp'er up!" "Can't I have a furlough?" "Oh, ain't I glad I joined de army!" etc., etc. A comrade is peering out under the headlog when a minie or shell comes so close to his head that he involuntarily ìducksî or dodges, which act is greeted with yells of delight and many good-natured witticisms. But stop; their mirth is suddenly checked. Another poor fellow did not dodge in time, and his blood reddens the revetment. All levity ceases instantly, and they hasten to assist their wounded comrade in every way possible.

Other batteries now join in the fracas, on either side, and in a short time, all the artillery for miles along the lines is engaged; while every living being within range is forced to seek shelter from the storm of shot and shell which pours over the intrenchments of both armies. At such times, an increased animation pervades the troops under fire; the skirmishers swell the din with a steady rattle of musketry; the boys in the main line watch, as well as the circumstances will permit, the thrilling scene, and cheer and cheer again every good shot made by friendly batteries; and anyone who listens to the tumult from a distance must feel certain that a sanguinary battle is in progress. Those little outbursts usually last until the guns become well heated, and then the cannonading gradually lessens, the skirmishers quiet down, and presently the scene assumes its wonted aspect. During those bouts, there are always some casualties, but there is more noise than anything else, and a great amount of ammunition is used for every man injured, for the men of both armies know how to protect themselves from needless danger, about as well as any soldier of modern times.

In the rear of our permanent line of main works, the boys have rigged up nearly every kind of a bed or bunk. Most of them have erected something to keep them off of the ground, especially on the side hills, where the running water during a rain has no respect for persons or rank. Many have built their bunks high enough to serve as a seat as well as a bed. These bunks or cots are made of many kinds of materials. Where boards can be had, they are made of boards, but of course the supply of lumber is far too small for the demand, and others have to make their cots of poles, fence rails, split logs, etc., etc. On the cots is spread straw, hay, dry leaves, cotton, and a number of other materials more or less soft, and over them are erected the shelter or "dog" tents of the soldiers. Over all, to protect the occupants from the scorching rays of the sun, bowers of green branches are built; and sometimes the paths between the cots are covered in the same way. The cots or bunks are built several feet back from the works, so as to leave room for the men to form and fight in case of an attack. Here, sitting or lying upon their cots, the boys pass much of the time they are off duty, reading, writing, mending clothes, cleaning guns and accoutrements, etc., and in the rear of their cots, they build small fires to cook their meals.

At night, alarm guards are posted every hundred or two hundred feet along with works, whose duty it is to awaken the soldiers in case of a night attack. Such attacks are quite common in this siege, but our army has been the assaulting party in most of them. Since we have reached the last line of works in our advance, the rebels have assaulted portions of our picket line, but never the main line. At such times, however, the main line has to turn out and prepare to repulse an assault; and such an alarm in the middle of the night and in dense darkness often leads to ridiculous and comical scenes and incidents. Awakening to hear the rattle of musketry, the yells of combatants, the orders to "fall in! fall in! lively, boys!" and often to hear the roar of artillery and the boom of bursting shells, the boys are naturally in a great hurry to get on their clothes and traps, and many in their haste buckle on their traps first and make laughable efforts to get into their clothes afterwards. The writer recalls the picture of a brave but excitable captain parading along the line of his company with his sword and revolver buckled around his waist and his pantaloons in his hand!

While sleeping on these cots or bunks, we are safe from the direct musketry fire of the enemy, but sometimes a "wild" minie -- one that has been fired high, and has glanced downward after striking a branch or twig of a tree, comes down at an angle straight into our cots, and more than one of more of our boys have been killed or wounded by such balls.