The Sun Rose Glowing Red and Angry: The 37th Wisconsin in the Crater

There's an old sailor's adage that goes "red skies at night, sailor's delight. Red skies in the morning, sailor's take warning."  Captain Robert Eden of the 37th Wisconsin may have thought that same warning applied to soldiers as the sun rose "glowing red and angry" on the morning of July 30, 1864 in the trenches near Petersburg, Virginia.

    "On that morning, just as the sun rose above the eastern horizon, glowing red and angry through the morning mists like a ball of molten metal, we were aroused by the sound of three heavy guns fired in rapid succession from a battery on the left," the captain recounted. "This was quickly followed by a dull, heavy roar, a perceptible concussion of the air, and a trembling of the solid ground on which we lay. This was succeeded by the opening of every battery along our whole line, said to number 400 pieces of artillery of every size from the light 12-pounder field piece up to 100-pounder Parrott and 6” and 10” mortars. The reports of these pieces were almost continuous and from this time till noon did the hellish uproar continue. Sleeping, of course, was out of the question, for we had no occasion to ask what had happened. We could tell well enough that the mine which for weeks past we had heard was being run under a large Rebel battery in front of the 9th Corps had been exploded and the question in our minds was “what next?”        

    Captain Eden’s description of the fight at the Crater first saw publication in the August 18, 1864, edition of the Saturday Evening Press published in Menasha, Wisconsin.

 


Near Petersburg, Virginia

August 1, 1864

          I have another bloody scene in this great war panorama to recount to you, though noy myself a personal actor in the same. The 37th Wisconsin had, however, been again called on to take an active part and has, as its list of killed and wounded and the testimony of all who witnessed the action show, done its duty well and truly.

On Thursday the 21st, I left the field hospital and took up my quarters in our convalescent camp about two miles in the rear of our advanced lines but within plain hearing of the picket firing on the front. We passed several days here in quiet, undisturbed by any unusual uproar, a desultory picket firing and occasional artillery skirmish alone breaking the sultry stillness of the long, hot summer days.

On the morning of the 30th, this quiet was broken in on by the din and uproar of as fierce and determined a battle as any that has yet taken place before Petersburg. On that morning, just as the sun rose above the eastern horizon, glowing red and angry through the morning mists like a ball of molten metal, we were aroused by the sound of three heavy guns fired in rapid succession from a battery on the left. This was quickly followed by a dull, heavy roar, a perceptible concussion of the air, and a trembling of the solid ground on which we lay. This was succeeded by the opening of every battery along our whole line, said to number 400 pieces of artillery of every size from the light 12-pounder field piece up to 100-pounder Parrott and 6” and 10” mortars. The reports of these pieces were almost continuous and from this time till noon did the hellish uproar continue. Sleeping, of course, was out of the question, for we had no occasion to ask what had happened. We could tell well enough that the mine which for weeks past we had heard was being run under a large Rebel battery in front of the 9th Corps had been exploded and the question in our minds was “what next?”
          But we were not long left in suspense as the sharp volleys of the rifles in our front and the Yankee cheers rising above the din of the cannonade told us that our corps was advancing. Hastily, snatching a mouthful or two of hardtack, three of us crawled out as far towards the front as our strength would permit and there, in painful anxiety, waited news from the front. Our feelings I will not attempt to describe but you can imagine them. I know that a more anxious morning I never passed in my life.

The Crater

We had not long to wait for tidings, soon, but too soon, the long line of ambulances came rolling in from the front, each with its ghastly load of hacked and bleeding humanity. From them we learned that the mine under the fort had exploded, completely tearing the work to pieces and burying hundreds of Rebels and several cannons within its ruins. We also learned that our brigade had advanced with the rest of the corps and was holding the ruins and the first line of Rebel works, and so, as the forenoon wore away, the day was still and sultry and the hot sun was shining down fiercely on the dry, sandy battlefield where the wounded lay in their agony, praying for water and but too often in vain.

And now, towards noon, as our artillery fire slackened, we could hear the wild, shrill yell of the Rebels as they charged, maddened with liquor, in vain attempts to retake the works we had so well won in the morning. Towards 4 o’clock in the afternoon, however, they were strengthened by reinforcements from their left and our men, having become completely worn out by their exertions added to the impossibility of procuring water and having been without food since the evening before, a final charge on the fort compelled our men to fall back to the line of rifle pits they had left in the morning. The position, indeed, was one that no number of troops could have held successfully for any length of time as it was completely commanded by the fire of two forts and three lines of rifle pits which the Rebels still held.

Had it been possible to have got a battery into position in the fort, something might have been effected, but so withering was the crossfire from the Rebel lines, no men nor horses could have dragged guns into an effective position. The men of our regiment, the 27th Michigan, and some belonging to a heavy artillery regiment succeeded, after some heavy digging, in unearthing a couple of the Rebel guns which had been buried by the explosion of the mine and getting them to bear on one of the Rebel forts, silencing its fire for a time. But their ammunition soon failed and the fort again reopened its fire. The main credit for the accomplishment of this scheme, which saved the lives of many of our men is due to Colonel Harriman and Adjutant Miltimore of our regiment, and to a sergeant and corporal of the 2nd Pennsylvania Heavy Artillery. The former two originated the scheme and the latter rendered valuable assistance by giving directions as to the working of the guns.

From the 23rd to the 31st of July, Private Reuben D. Shaw of Co. C was color bearer and it was he who carried the flag into the Rebel fort after it had been blown up before Petersburg. He planted the colors in full view of the Rebel batteries to the right and left, both of which soon opened upon our forces an incessant fire in which our flag was terribly cut to pieces. The flagstaff was shattered and broken and the flag was blown some distance out of the fort. At this juncture, Adjutant Claron Miltimore fearlessly walked out, picked up the flag, and went safely back into the fort amid a terrific fire of musketry with shot and shell by way of variations and there was not much variation about it either, for every shot and shell brought death and carnage on its wings to some of our boys. ~Quartermaster William C. Webb, 37th Wisconsin 

About 4 o’clock, the order was unwillingly given for our men to fall back, which they did, leaving many killed and wounded on the way. The same night, our brigade was relieved, having been on continuous duty in the front line works for 13 days. Our loss in killed and wounded amounted to 141 men, being considerably more than half of the number of men engaged.

The explosion of the mine is reported by those who witnessed it to have been a fearful sight, the air being filled to the height of 50 feet with fragments of timber, human beings, gun carriages, and general debris while a vast cloud of dust and smoke hung high over all. Nearly 200 Rebels were dug out of the ruins by our men, over 100 of whom were alive and brought as prisoners into our lines. They stated in my hearing that nearly 300 men of a South Carolina regiment, lying round the fort and not in it, were buried by the sand and dirt thrown up by the explosion.

This, the third action we have taken part in, has reduced our already decimated ranks sadly. On dress parade this evening we reported 95 men fit for duty. The boys, however, feel good and cheerful and their confidence in General Grant is unshaken. A reported advance of our lines on the right a distance of three miles adds to their confidence. What our next operations may be, we, of course, cannot tell. Rumors are rife of our corps being ordered to Kentucky, but this is probably mere camp gossip.

I cannot help putting in a word here in praise of the Indians of Co. K, whom many of your readers will doubtless remember in Madison last spring. They fought determinedly and bravely, losing heavily in killed and wounded. Most of the missing were likely taken prisoners owing to their being wounded and unable to fall back with the rest of the regiment.

To learn more about the Battle of the Crater, please check out these posts:

The Earth Seemed to Rock Beneath Me: A Blue and Gray View of the Crater

A Cloud of Dust, Smoke, Timber, and Men (18th South Carolina) 

God Alone Knows the Degree of Their Misery (27th U.S. Colored Troops)

Retiring the Colors of the 37th Wisconsin 

Source:

Letter from Captain Robert C. Eden, Co. B, 37th Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, Saturday Evening Press (Menasha, Wisconsin), August 18, 1864, pg. 3


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