As
he
studied
the
lines
Smith
began
to
discover
that
there was
a
scarcity
of
defenders,
and
he
concluded
that
Rebel strength
just
now
consisted
mostly
of
artillery.
He
would
not assault
with
massed
troops,
which
could
be
ripped
apart
by the
guns;
instead
he
would
use
a
succession
of
skirmish
lines, against
which
the
guns
would
not
be
effective.
If
the
trenches were
held
as
lightly
as
he
was
beginning
to
believe,
the skirmish
lines
could
carry
them,
and
if
he
was
wrong
and there
were
lots
of
Rebels
in
the
trenches,
then
no
attack
would have
a
chance
anyway;
8
and
by
four
o'clock,
Smith
finished his
reconnoissance
and
ordered
an
attack.
Now
came
the
first
little
hitch.
Staff
work
had
slipped, somewhere,
and
no
one
had
warned
the
chief
of
artillery
that a
fight
was
imminent,
so
that
officer
had
sent
all
of
the
artillery
horses
off
to
water.
It
seemed
important
to
give
the
attacking
troops
plenty
of
artillery
protection,
and
the
guns could
not
be
put
into
position
until
the
horses
got
back.
So there
was
a
wait,
and
the
afternoon
died
and
evening
came, and
it
was
nearly
sunset
when
everything
was
ready
9
—and north
of
the
Appomattox,
Confederate
officers
were
driving lean
columns
down
the
roads,
hurrying
to
get
into
the
Petersburg
lines
before
the
war
was
lost
beyond
salvage.
Other
troops
were
on
the
road,
too—Union
troops,
two
divisions
of
Hancock's
II
Corps,
who
had
crossed
the
James during
the
night
and
now
were
struggling
along
to
come
up and
give
Smith's
men
a
hand.
Late
in
the
afternoon,
while
he was
waiting
for
the
gunners
to
get
their
horses,
Smith
was told
of
their
approach,
and
the
news
seems
to
have
taken
the edge
off
his
eagerness.
With
strong
reinforcements
at
hand, the
delay
in
mounting
the
attack
probably
would
not
matter so
much.
The
artillery
was
moved
forward
at
last
and
it
began
to smite
the
Confederate
works,
and
around
seven
o'clock
the Union
lines
rolled
forward.
The
Confederates
put
up
a
good defense
but
their
job
was
impossible.
The
Federal
attackers simply
swamped
them,
Hinks's
colored
troops
going
forward as
stoutly
as
the
rest,
and
by
nine
o'clock
or
a
little
earlier most
of
the
formidable
line
was
in
Union
hands,
with
sixteen guns
and
several
hundred
prisoners.
The
colored
troops
were exultant
and
they
capered
about
their
captured
cannon
with whoops
of
pride,
and
General
Hinks
was
equally
optimistic. Smith
came
riding
over,
and
Hinks
proposed
that
the
entire command
move
boldly
forward
and
march
into
Petersburg without
further
ado.
Night
had
come,
but
the
moon
was
out
and
its
clear
thin light
lay
across
the
ridges
and
valleys
and
the
empty
roads to
the
little
city.
There
were
no
more
forts
to
storm,
and
the Confederates
who
had
retreated
were
not
even
bothering
to maintain
a
rear-guard
fire.
Hinks
thought
that
the
Federals could
walk
into
Petersburg
just
about
as
they
chose.
So
did
Beauregard.
He
wrote
later
that
at
that
moment "Petersburg
was
clearly
at
the
mercy
of
the
Federal
commander,
who
had
all
but
captured
it."
But
Smith
did
not think
so.
He
told
Hinks
that
Beauregard
was
going
to
be
reinforced
(which
was
true
enough)
and
said
that
by
the
time the
Federals
could
reach
the
town
the
defenders
there
would outnumber
them
(which
was
not
true
at
all).
He
added
that if
they
were
not
careful
they
would
lose
all
that
they
had gained.
It
would
be
best
to
hold
on
where
they
were
and
wait for
Hancock's
men,
and
very
likely
something
decisive
could be
done
tomorrow.
Smith
sent
Ben
Butler
a
wire
saying,
"Unless
I
misapprehend
the
topography,
I
hold
the
key
to
Petersburg."
Meanwhile,
he
ordered
Hinks
to
make
no
advance.
10
Hancock's
men
were
just
coming
on
the
scene—two
divisions,
Birney's
and
Gibbon's,
dusty
and
half-exhausted,
but full
of
enthusiasm.
They
had
had
a
very
hard
march,
but
they would
have
been
on
hand
a
great
deal
earlier
except
for
a
few little
mistakes
that
had
been
committed
here
and
there
along the
way.
Altogether,
these
mistakes
added
up
to
nothing
much except
faulty
staff
work,
and
they
would
not
be
worth
mentioning
except
that
they
helped
to
prolong
the
war
by
eight months.