A Dark Spot in Memory: The Second Storming of Vicksburg

Moments into his regiment’s attack on the bastion of Vicksburg on May 22, 1863, Corporal Charles Morris of the 33rd Illinois found himself pinned down in front of the Confederate works “with the missiles of death raining around, the hot sun pouring down, amidst the wail of the wounded, the fierce yell of the victors, and the incessant roar of musketry. Death stared us in the face if we remained or if we attempted to get down. We knew it was madness to send men there. The Rebel rifle pits to our left could fire upon us and every now and then some poor fellow would go down. The terrors of that day made men grow old.”

The Illinoisan called the attack a “dark spot” in his memory, commenting that “scarcely one of the old guard who either does not carry a reminder of it on his person or points to that fatal day as the last on earth of some cherished comrade.” Morris’s vivid description of his brigade’s assault against Vicksburg originally saw publication in Wilbur Hinman’s 1892 compendium entitled Camp and Field: Sketches of Army Life Written by Those Who Followed the Flag ’61-’65.

 

Charles Morris's regiment charged against the Confederate fortifications surrounding Vicksburg near the 2nd Texas Lunette, until pinned down with the 42nd Alabama, 15th Arkansas, and 2nd Texas in their front. They found themselves in a hell of flashing missiles, screaming men, and death all around. "The terrors of the day made men grow old," Morris confessed. 

          The 22nd of May is a dark spot in the memory of many, and there is scarcely one of the old guard who either does not carry a reminder of it on his person or points to that fatal day as the last on earth of some cherished comrade.

          Carr’s division had hot work on the 21st in moving into position near the railroad. Every move was greeted with storms of grape and canister and the ever-present song of the Minie balls. The First Brigade consisting of the 33rd Illinois, 8th Indiana, 18th Indiana, and 99th Illinois commanded by Brigadier General William P. Benton, was moved up to within 300 yards of the enemy’s works the evening of the 21st and passed the night under the shelter of an abrupt hill. We had muskets as bedfellows, empty stomachs, and full cartridge boxes with which to dream of the morrow.

          Those of us who had been sharpshooting until daylight on the 22nd knew something of what was before us and when another company came and relieved us at dawn so that we might lead the charge that day, the gallant Major Isaac H. Elliott said that he appreciated the compliment but that many a brave boy would fall that day. A spirit of solemnity seemed to pervade the brigade as it massed in view of the enemy. Men congregated in groups conversing in undertones. Letters conveying a last farewell were hurriedly written, messages and keepsakes were given to comrades by those who knew this was to be their last charge. Yet they did not hesitate, and to my personal knowledge their sad presentiment was verified in almost every case.

Colonel Isaac H. Elliott
33rd Illinois

          Officers, outwardly calm, moved aimlessly about, anxiously consulting their timepieces. Aides from brigade headquarters came and went, running the gauntlet, dodging shells that came shrieking down the ravines. As the hour of 10 a.m. drew nigh, four colonels (Charles Lippincott of the 33rd, Henry Washburne of the 18th, David Shunk of the 8th, and George Bailey of the 99th) held a consultation and, to see who would lead the brigade, cast lots for position. It was won by Colonel Bailey of the 99th Illinois; our 33rd Illinois was next, then the 18th Indiana and 8th Indiana.

          Our artillerymen were emptying their limber boxes as fast as muscle and powder could do it and as the decisive moment approached, it seemed as though their exertions were redoubled and that the sulfurous blast of flame and smoke and the murderous roar would stifle and crush us. Men sprang to their feet, grasping their muskets with a grip of iron. Officers tightened their belts and in quick, fiery words gave the command, “Fall in!” In an instant, the brazen mouths that for three hours has spoken were, for the first time, silent. The men forming Grant’s army crouched with nerves of steel, ready to spring upon their foe. They came as conquerors and were anxious to try issues with their enemy, even in his stronghold.

          Colonel Bailey, divested of coat and vest and with arms bared to the elbow, sprang to the head of his regiment and with a single word of “forward” sent the hot blood tingling through our veins. The hour of nervous waiting, the hardest part to bear in patience, was over. Our course was around the base of a hill and up by the right flank, through a narrow defile, until the crest was nearly reached. There, as we swung into line, not 100 yards away, burst a withering, scorching sheet of flame, unmerciful in its intensity, sent forth by desperate men.

Hundreds went down. The gallant Bailey fell grievously wounded. The 99th Illinois could go no further. The 33rd Illinois, charging over the same ground, fared not even so well for as we came into line, the same fearful blast struck and virtually annihilated us, for in that day’s work only 7 men of the 60 in my company could report for duty the next morning, some of these even were bruised and wounded.

Corporal Charles D. Morris
Co. E, 33rd Illinois

The 18th and 8th Indiana regiments, coming up quickly, met much the same fate. Some of them, with scattering ones from the two preceding regiments, turned to the right and Colonel Washburne of the 18th found partial shelter in an angle of their works and there, with the missiles of death raining around, the hot sun pouring down, amidst the wail of the wounded, the fierce yell of the victors, the incessant roar of musketry, we kept them down in our front. Death stared us in the face if we remained or if we attempted to get down. Some of our colors were planted on the walls of the fort. Washburne’s ringing voice could be heard above the din, shouting encouragement to us.

McClernand, away in the rear, called loudly on Grant for help. We knew it was madness to send men there. Grant, as near to us as McClernand, thought as much. The Rebel rifle pits to our left could fire upon us and every now and then some poor fellow would go down. The terrors of that day made men grow old. The appeal for help was answered. Colonel George Boomer’s brigade attempted to reach us but they could get no nearer than 200 yards. Boomer himself was killed. We knew then to stay longer was useless and so, one by one, we stole away, running the gauntlet for life and liberty.

To learn more about the assaults on Vicksburg, please check out these related posts:

Working for Vicksburg: A Voice from the 33rd Illinois

The Ground Was Slippery With Blood: The 54th Ohio Tries for Vicksburg

A Most Bloody and Foolhardy Charge: A Buckeye Recalls the First Crack at Vicksburg

A Whistling Hail of Death: The First Assault on Vicksburg with the 95th Illinois

The Forlorn Hope at Vicksburg

Storming Vicksburg: Earning a Medal of Honor in the Forlorn Hope

Marching to Vicksburg with the 31st Iowa

Source:

“Battle of Vicksburg on May 22, 1863: Heroic Charge of the First Brigade,” Corporal Charles D. Morris, Co. E, 33rd Illinois Volunteer Infantry, from Wilbur F. Hinman’s Camp and Field: Sketches of Army Life Written by Those Who Followed the Flag. Cleveland: The N.G. Hamilton Co., 1892, pgs. 178-180

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