Every
division
carried
axes
and
spades
in
its
ammunition wagons,
but
the
men
rarely
waited
for
these
to
be
brought forward.
They
would
begin
the
work
by
themselves,
using bayonets,
sharpened
pieces
of
wood,
and
any
small
tools
they might
carry
with
them.
All
of
this
digging
did
not
improve the
farmers'
fields
very
much,
and
a
Philadelphia
veteran
reflected
on
the
loss
that
was
involved.
One
day,
he
said,
his division
fell
into
line
on
a
well-cultivated
farm
and
put
in
several
hours
digging
a
long,
deep
trench,
tearing
down
a
barn and
several
outbuildings
that
stood
in
the
way.
No
sooner was
this
finished
than
the
presence
of
Rebel
forces
was
reported
off
on
the
flank,
so
a
new
trench
was
dug
at
right angles
to
the
first.
By
the
time
it
was
finished
the
enemy
had changed
front
again,
and
so
a
third
line
was
constructed— after
which
orders
to
move
were
brought
in
and
the
division marched
away,
leaving
the
luckless
farmer
with
fields
that were
completely
crisscrossed
by
deep
ditches.
What
the farmer
ever
did
about
it
the
soldier
was
quite
unable
to
imagine.
16
The
Confederates
had
learned
about
digging
trenches,
too —had
in
fact
learned
it
before
the
Federals
did.
It
was
an axiom
by
now
that
if
the
Rebels
had
half
a
day
in
any
given position
they
would
build
good
fieldworks,
and
if
they
were given
an
extra
twenty-four
hours
they
would
get
dug
in
so completely
that
they
could
not
possibly
be
pushed
out.
The private
soldier
was
getting
war-wise,
and
if
he
was
called
on to
attack
an
entrenched
position,
he
could
usually
tell
at
a glance
whether
the
attack
had
any
chance
to
succeed.
It
was commonly
said
in
the
army
that
the
heavy
artillerists
had
suffered
heavy
losses
in
the
Spotsylvania
fight
largely
because the
men
were
so
green:
they
had
advanced
to
attack
the enemy
in
solid
ranks,
worrying
about
keeping
their
alignment and
fussing
over
parade-ground
details,
and
thereby
had
presented
a
target
the
Southern
marksmen
could
not
miss.
Veteran
troops
would
have
spread
themselves
out,
going
forward in
short
rushes,
lying
down
between
volleys
and
protecting themselves
as
they
fought.
17
For
a
number
of
days
the
army's
existence
consisted
of
a series
of
attempts
to
get
around
Lee's
flank
so
that
there
could be
fighting
after
the
old
manner,
with
nobody
hidden
in trenches
and
every
Rebel
out
in
the
open
where
he
could conveniently
be
shot.
This
never
quite
happened,
since
Lee could
move
just
as
fast
as
Grant
could
move,
and
the
Con
federates
knew
the
country
better;
and
there
was
a
confused, meaningless
series
of
little
fights
for
river
crossings
and
road centers—little
only
by
comparison
with
what
had
gone
before, big
enough
for
the
men
directly
involved,
in
their
casualty lists
and
their
drain
on
energies.
As
always,
the
pickets
made
close
contact,
and
one
day across
a
stream
some
Confederates
asked
Wisconsin
soldiers why
they
had
come
down
to
steal
the
slaves
of
men
who
had done
them
no
harm.
The
Westerners
replied
that
they
did
not care
about
slavery:
all
that
concerned
them
was
to
save
the Union.
"You-all
aren't
Yankees,"
cried
a
Confederate.
"You
uns and
we
'uns
ought
to
go
together
in
this
war
and
let
the Yankees
go
by
themselves!"
18
Strange
new
names
were
entered
on
the
army's
annals—Ox Ford
and
Quarles
Mill
and
Jericho
Ford,
and
the
other
crossings
of
the
North
Anna
River;
roads
down
to
the
Pamunkey, places
like
Hawes's
Shop
and
Bethesda
Church,
and
the
rambling
network
of
highways
that
led
to
a
desolate
crossroads known
as
Cold
Harbor.
In
all
of
these
places
there
was
fighting,
and
before
and
after
each
fight
there
was
a
forced
march, and
the
army
neither
won
nor
lost
as
it
moved
on.
It
added
to its
knowledge
and
to
its
losses,
and
it
got
deeper
and
deeper into
Virginia,
but
it
never
quite
got
around
the
end
of
the Rebel
army
and
the
big
showdown
was
always
somewhere ahead.
The
army
had
conquered
nothing
and
it
possessed
not
a foot
of
Virginia
soil
except
the
ground
on
which
it
actually stood.
All
the
way
back
to
the
Rapidan,
Virginia
was
still Confederate
territory,
and
the
men
who
strayed
past
the
army lines
to
the
rear
were
quite
as
likely
to
be
shot
or
captured
as if
they
had
strayed
out
to
the
front.
Rebel
cavalry
roamed far
and
wide,
and
it
was
assisted
by
pestiferous
bands
of guerillas—informal
groups
of
semiofficial
mounted
men,
who were
peace-loving
farmers
half
of
the
time
and
blood-thirsty raiders
the
rest
of
the
time.
These
bands
covered
all
of
the rear,
and
no
wagon
train
could
pass
between
the
army
and the
river
bases
north
of
Fredericksburg
without
a
strong escort.