within reach to strengthen the army under his immediate control.

During this period I not only saw Grant and his staff frequently, but received several visits from Dana, Rawlins, and Babcock, all of whom showed unabated interest in my welfare and success. It was in the first of these visits that they explained the work of detraction and misrepresentation which had been carried on more or less openly against my division since I had been in command of it. They named a staff officer who had been talking and I reported him to Sheridan, who at once gave him an admonition which silenced him for good and all. The prejudices, selfish interests, and idle talk of an army made up of men from all callings and all parts of the country, although generally founded on gossip, are nearly always productive of evil. They mar or make fortunes without reference to conduct or real merit. The braggart and boaster, especially if he is skillful in getting in with the newspapers, frequently gains popular favor for much more than he is really worth, while the faithful and modest officer who attends strictly to duty is far too often condemned unheard. Our army showed many instances of this sort, and yet candor compels me to add that the modest man is not always the best soldier, nor the braggart always the worst. Some of the poorest officers I ever knew were as modest as women, while some of the best, while shamelessly sounding their own praises, were brave, dashing, and enterprising to an unusual degree. Such men frequently act as though conscious of having committed themselves to deeds of daring and feel compelled to make good at every hazard.

They rarely reach the highest distinction, while those of the more thoughtful and more steadfast kind are content to do their duty from time to time according to their best judgment and leave the rest to their record and to those in authority over them. In the long run the latter class prevail. The man who knows when to use his brains instead of his sword, when to put his command in and follow its movements with a watchful eye, and when to place himself at the post of danger, resolved to win or lose it all by his personal leadership, is a far more useful officer than the reckless and thoughtless man who undertakes to do all the fighting himself. This is just as true in our great war as in the other great wars of history. While it is sometimes hard for a subordinate to follow a campaign or a battle closely enough to know just what the next movement should be, it is still harder to judge correctly when to throw prudence, which is often a "rascally virtue," to the wind and stake all on personal courage and leadership. But the really good officer, when the time comes, takes the risk, far too frequently with a fatal result, though in the long run he and his kind win out and achieve real glory.

XVII

GRANT'S ADVANCE TO THE JAMES

Operations on Pamunkey and North Anna-Fights at Hanover Court House-Ashland and South Anna-Totopotomoy-Haw's shop-Behind Lee's left-Captain Ulffers-Prepared rations-Sheridan detached-Defeated by Hampton-Cold Harbor-Upton's comments.

During Grant's movement to the left along the north bank of the Pamunkey on the last days of May, 1864, I followed close behind his rear guard, picking up stragglers from the Ninth Corps and an occasional deserter from Lee's forces. From one of the latter I learned that Lee had begun his retrograde movement to Ashland Station almost immediately after my night attack against his left flank, and this information I deemed important enough to send to General Grant, as it indicated that Lee's new position would be twelve or fourteen miles south of Chesterfield, a few miles beyond the South Anna, behind which he would be free to move in any direction. It also made it certain that we were in but little danger of an offensive return. The march was therefore in the nature of rest and recreation. While it was under way I overtook my classmate, Captain Andrews, of the Eighth Infantry, who since the death of Sedgwick, on whose staff he had

been serving as an aid-de-camp, was in command of his company on foot. His entire baggage was tied up in a bandanna handkerchief and carried on his sword over his shoulder. He was weary, footsore, and despondent, and as soon as he saw me asked seriously if I knew where he could get the mouth-piece of a key bugle or any other part of a brass musical instrument. This puzzling question at once aroused my curiosity as well as my interest. He was a veteran of imperturbable temper and approved courage who had taken an honorable part in all the eastern campaigns and in many of the most important battles. I knew, therefore, that there was something behind his singular inquiry, but as I could not imagine what it was, I answered at once: "No! Why do you ask?" And this brought the reply, without the glimmer of a smile:

"Oh, I merely want to be considered as belonging to the band, which, you know, remains behind the fighting line and carries off the wounded. This is the only berth in this army where a man's life is worth a cent. Nearly everybody I know has been killed or wounded, and if this campaign, with its senseless assaults of entrenched positions and its ceaseless tributes of blood and death, is to continue much longer, my turn is sure to come soon, and I want to avoid that if I can honorably do so. Like our classmate, Martin, commanding his regiment at the vortex of the battle at Peach Orchard, where he could hear the bullets breaking the bones of his men like icicles falling from the eaves on a sunny morning, 'I feel exactly as though every minute might be my next!'"'

The captain's grim but impressive humor was

followed by the first comment I had heard upon the rude and costly methods and the incompetency of corps and division commanders in that army, and from the specifications which followed I became convinced that the courage and confidence of both officers and men were not only slipping away, but that unless better methods and greater successes could be assured, we might meet with an overwhelming disaster any day. The condition of affairs was a grave one and, unfortunately, there was no sign from any quarter that a change for the better might be expected. Lee and his decimated ranks still grimly barred our road to Richmond and, as it turned out, exacted greater and greater tributes of blood and treasure before yielding to the inevitable.

A few days later I asked for and obtained Andrews' detail to my staff as aid-de-camp. Beaumont and Noyes, from the same staff, had already joined and, I may add, remained with me to the end of the war. They were all West Pointers, young, gallant, and accomplished, and, while they had many close calls from captivity and death, they escaped serious injury and disablement, led long and useful lives, and finally retired as colonels of the regular army. They were well fitted for high command, but those were strenuous days, in which the highest merit did not always receive adequate recognition or reward.

The Pamunkey, formed by the North and South Anna Rivers, is an exceedingly crooked stream, with many bends, swamps and small tributaries. My route lay through Mangohick Church and Pounce's Swamp toward New Castle Ferry and Hanovertown, and I was especially required to remain be