COMMUNICATIONS FROM COMRADES

THE LAST CHARGE MADE IN THE ARMY OF THE

POTOMAC; THE LAST SHOT FIRED, AND THE

LAST UNION SOLDIER WOUNDED

By ALBERT O. SKIFF, CAPT. CO. A, 15^TH N.Y. CAV.

Letting my thoughts wander back o'er the cruel days of bloody war, I find that the remembrance of the 8^th of April, 1865, is still written upon the tablets of my memory in characters so vivid that it has failed to become erased by the years, which since that time having winged their flight into the past, and as such reminiscences always warms up and sends rushing through our veins the sluggish blood that has been lying dormant for over twenty-four years, once more it brings to mind the time when to our ears came daily the shrill notes of the bugle, the clanking of the sabre, the rumbling of the wagon trains, the stern words of command, and lastly the wild carnage of the battle-field. And as I have never seen it mentioned in any account written of Lee's surrender that a number of the Union troops found their way to Appomattox Court House, on the eve of the above named day, I now put myself on the skirmish line for the purpose of describing the event which occurred at that time, I myself being a participant of the scene.

The sun had not yet descended beneath the limits of the western horizon when Sheridan's corps reached Appomattox Station. There meeting some resistance, a charge was made that soon dispersed the rebels, who were drawn up in line to protect the depot and also the wagon trains which extended from the station to the Court House, the distance being about two miles; and while the 15^th New York Cavalry were capturing that, the rest of the command were securing four immense railroad trains. Some of the teams had become so completely entangled as to form a barricade, and to avoid the confusion we were obliged to leave the road.

How vividly it all comes back to me now! I remember I was riding beside Col. Root, and leaning forward in my saddle to move a top rail we leaped the fence side by side. Soon after our horses regained the road we charged past wagons after wagon, cannon after cannon, and mule team after mule team; on towards Appomattox, little dreaming the fate in store for us.

Night had settled down wide and still. The sky above us was completely overcast by thickly flying clouds, through which now and then a few glimmering stars cast a pale and sickly radiance, causing the darkness of earth to become denser and making more ghastly the grey gloom of heaven. Banishing from our minds all thoughts of fear and trepidation we madly galloped on and soon dashed into the streets of Appomattox. When we reached this place the party consisted of about a dozen troopers of the 15^th New York Cavalry, among which number were Col. A. I. Root and myself. In the distance we could distinctly hear the heavy tramp of marching feet and the officers issuing their quick, decisive orders of command, which rang out sharp and shrill upon the chill evening air. Col. Root leading the onset, we charged immediately in front of the Court House; there receiving a volley of rebel bullets, we were instantly driven backward. In a moment all was confusion, and after exchanging several shots we were obliged to retreat. I was just at the point of turning about when a riderless horse sprang to my side. I grasped the reins of his bridle, and as my eyes fell upon the empty saddle I realized that another true and noble life had been sacrificed at the shrine of our suffering country, and the bullet which had pierced the brave and manly heart of our gallant colonel had secured to the cruel and relentless war another ghastly victim.

I shall never forget the scene through which we passed while making our retreat. The wagon train was completely enveloped in flames, and the boys turning themselves into teamsters, the leader of which was that gallant soldier, Sergeant Gibbs, hitched the mules to the cannon and drew them rapidly to the rear. Leading Col. Root's horse back over the ground which his brave master had passed but a moment before, I gave him to Adjutant Mann, who was the Colonel's most intimate friend. When we informed him of our loss the tears rained down his cheeks in torrents and his manly frame shook with heartfelt sobs, for he realized, as did the rest of us, that we had lost a friend who was both brave and noble and of whom his country might well be proud. His body, stripped of all outer garments, was found in the streets the morning after the surrender, and was conveyed to the home of a staunch Confederate lady at her own request, her womanly heart being full of reverence and respect for the gallant man whose intrepidness cost him his life. She had the body interred in her own door yard and kept his grave covered with a profusion of beautiful flowers. A year latter, when his remains were conveyed to the home of his early childhood her tears fell thick and fast, for she had learned to love the grave of the manly hero and had taken special pride in keeping as a sacred spot the final resting place of our daring Colonel. And as another mark of esteem and honor, attributed to his memory, a G.A.R. organization in Syracuse, N.Y., is called the "Root Post, No. 151" after the "bravest of the brave." Among the relics placed in their room is a fine painting of the colonel presented by Major Michael Auer of the 15^th New York Cavalry, and in a prominent place may be seen the well known saddle which carried Col. Root to his last charge, and who, after giving his life for his country's sake, sleeps peacefully among the thousands of brave comrades who fell while "fighting for home and native land."

The following extract, taken from the Elmira Morning Telegram, of March 1^st, 1885, shows our position on the night of April 8^th, also the exact place where Col. Root was killed. Major T.U. Williams, of Lynchburg, Va., who is now a leading lawyer of that place, who had charge of the rebel skirmish line at Lee's surrender, said:

"A Federal Colonel and half a dozen soldiers did a foolhardy act the evening before the surrender. They galloped through the town immediately in front of Lee's headquarters. A saw their dead bodies the next morning lying by the roadside. It was supposed that they were intoxicated. I did know the Colonel's name but it has passed from my memory".

But the above narrative, written in reply to this correspondence, tends to infer that Major Williams was mistaken, and that he did the memory of a brave and gallant soldier a great injustice when he says that we were "intoxicated" and the act was "foolhardy," for we made that charge at the command of Gen. Custer, who expected it to be obeyed. Doing as all soldiers do, we went as far as we could.

But we overlook all this seeming injustice when we read the following manly explanation, written by Major T.U. Williams, and appearing in the Telegram April 12^th, 1885:

"I have seen the letter of Capt. Albert O. Skiff in your paper of March 29^th; in which he says I have done injustice to the memory of a brave and gallant soldier. In the information I gave your correspondent, whose letter was published March 1^st, in reference to the persons whose dead bodies I saw lying in the streets at Appomattox Court House, I meant only to say that a little after dark, the evening before the surrender, I saw the soldiers lying in the road, one of whom I was told was a colonel, and when my informants told me of the daring bravery of the men, we thought they were foolhardy and perhaps intoxicated. I hasten to say that I am glad to be corrected. Far be it from me to intentionally do injustice to the gallant men who fought on the other side. It was I who proposed to the Telegram's correspondent the toast - "To Grant and Lee; health for the living and respect for the dead." And now in view of the critical health of living heroes, allow me to say I, with thousands of braver and better Southern men, repeat the sentiment - "To the health of the living and memory of the dead." Please say to Capt. Skiff that I am sorry to have done the seeming injustice to his gallant friend, Col. Augustus I. Root.

Yours truly,

T.U. Williams

We will now go back to the eve of the 8^th of April, 1865, where I had given the colonel's horse into the hands of Adjutant Mann, after which our regiment retired into a piece of woods near Appomattox Station to rest for the night. The lights from the burning wagon train enabled me to find my supper, which consisted of two or three dozen warm wheat biscuit tied up in a pillow case and abandoned by some poor Johnny Reb in his haste to escape. Having satisfied my hunger, for wheat biscuits in those days were a rarity, I looked about me and seeing the moss-covered roots of a large tree standing near by I took my horse by the bridle and lying down slept soundly until the shrill notes of the bugle told us another day had dawned and duty urged us onward.

Time can never erase from my memory the sensation of fear and dread which took possession of me as I mounted my horse that morning. In all my four years experience I had known no felling to equal this. Perhaps the sad fate of Colonel Root may have had something to do with it, but I felt as I rode out that morning that to me it was to prove an eventful day. All mortals are more or less superstitious, but the sensation which then stole over me I could not shake off. But as the stern command of our officers rang out on the morning air we knew that the movement was forward.

Gen. Sheridan moved his whole cavalry force over the fields south of Appomattox Court House early that morning, consequently what more I have to say will be confined to the doings of the Third Division of cavalry commanded by Gen. Geo. A. Custer. His command came up where the colored troops were lying in line of battle, and a black line it was too. They opened ranks for us to pass by, crawling on their hands and knees, as a battery in our front was making it uncomfortable for them. Gen. Custer ordered Col. Markell of the 8^th New York cavalry, who had the advance, to deploy his regiment as skirmishers, and then Gen. Custer and staff placed themselves at the head of the 15^th New York Cavalry, commanded by Col. John J. Coppinger, the entire division following in column of fours, at a brisk trot, straight to the front. Shells were tearing up the ground all about us at the time and the tumult became deafening. Suddenly Gen. Custer obliqued to the right and dashed forward at the gallop, soon turning down a road into which we charged in column. Continuing down this road for a short distance we took tot he fields again and came up in rear of the rebel army. We were just on the point of charging into the enemy when Col. Markell came dashing up to us with a bare headed rebel major, who carried in his hand a white towel. Instantly all tumult and confusion was hushed; there was not a shot to be heard, while cheer after cheer resounded all along the lines. The charge our cavalry was about to make was arrested and we stood awaiting orders.

It has always been my opinion, by what transpired at that time, that Gen. Custer took the rebel and flag of truce to his superior officer, as during the time we were waiting he was not with his staff at the head of his division. But E.W. Whittiker, lieutenant-colonel of the 1^st Connecticut Cavalry, then acting Assistant Inspector General of the Third Cavalry Division, in a letter written to the New York Times, makes the matter perfectly plain. He says:

"Upon receiving the flag of truce Custer instantly halted and turning to me by his side says: "Go with this officer and say to Gen. Lee that I cannot stop this charge unless he announces an unconditional surrender." On returning to Gen. Custer I learned that Confederate cavalry had been trying to charge through our lines on the right but had not succeeded."

When we saw the flag of truce, as above stated, we immediately came to a dead halt, and cheer answered cheer from one end of the line to the other. After remaining in this position about ten minutes the 8^th New York Cavalry, who were still out as skirmishers, were driven back upon us. The 15^th New York Cavalry instantly made a charge led by Col. Coppinger and a part of Custer's staff, your humble servant commanding the first squadron at the head of the regiment. Those of the enemy that escaped our fire went back, for our bullets flew a dozen to there one; but during the charge a rebel ball struck me on the right jaw, passed downward through my neck, emerging there from in the vicinity of my jugular vein and trachea. I immediately reined up my horse and turning him about. Just at that moment Gen. Custer dashed past me, and close behind him came his bugler sounding the recall, and at a short distance the flag of truce again appeared in sight, probably carried by Col. Whittiker on his return from an interview with the enemy. I made at once to the rear and every step I took cheer upon cheer, arising from hundreds of thankful hearts, was all that could be heard. Not a single shot sounded along the line; the wild tumult of cannon and shell, which had hitherto been the prominent feature of the day, had ceased, and only the thousands of voices which now rose clear and strong in one grand proclamation of joy, broke the stillness which suddenly reigned over friend and foe.

I write this as I saw it, and as others of the Third Division witnessed it, and if the brave boy general, or those of his gallant staff that led with Col. Coppinger at that time were alive to-day they could certify to the truth of my statement. But alas, the greater part of that brilliant staff went down to the grim gates of death with their gallant leader on the wild plains of a western prairie. A leader who could say to us in his farewell address : "You have within the last year captured one hundred and eleven pieces of field artillery, sixty-five battle flags, ten thousand prisoners of war, including seven general officers, and never lost a gun or a color." Where among the heroes that the war produced, who had attained only to the age of twenty-six years, could you find a champion or an equal?

If this should meet the eyes of any of those who made the last charge in the Army of the Potomac, and if I have in any particular misstated anything, I would be glad to be corrected. Col. Coppinger is at present time doing active service somewhere on the frontier line, and Col. Markell, of the 8^th New York Cavalry, is an honored man in the city of Rochester, N.Y.

Now while I do not assume the honor of putting down the whole rebellion, I do claim that I was the last Union soldier wounded in the Army of the Potomac.

A PROPHETIC DREAM

Comrade James A. Hines, of Co. H, gives the following version of a dream he had the night previous to the skirmish at Lacey Springs, and how true it was verified the next morning:

After I feel asleep I dreamt that we were suddenly attacked by the enemy; that our regiment were all dismounted; that they tried to mount their horses, some of whom were saddled and some not; general confusion followed, in which I lost my horse.  I ran, and in my flight came across a wagon train, and someone called me by name.  I went to him and found him to be the regimental surgeon hiding under the wagons, and he told me to stay with him and I would be all right.  Soon after the train was surrounded by the enemy and one who appeared to be in command said: “Go on,. Boys, and give them Yankees h_ll; these are ours.”  They left the train and I also left.  I had gone but a short distance when I heard this command: “Rally for the hollow, 8^th”  I went to the hollow.  A man rode up to me and asked me what regiment I belonged to.  I told him.  “Surrender, you d__d Yankee son of a b___h.”  I asked him what command he belonged to, and he said the 8^th Virginia.  He stripped me of my watch, gloves and boots and then turned me over to another man.  An officer rode up and ordered him to take me to a piece of woods on the right.  While going I saw a line of troops moving out from the woods.  The command halt was given, and my captor was asked what regiment he belonged to.  He answered: “Twenty-Second New York Cavalry.”  The command was then given: “Don’t shoot, for he is one of our men.”  I then awoke.

                Now for the reality as I saw it the next morning:  I was awake before boots and saddles was sounded on the morning of the 21^st of December, 1864.  I was very chilly.  I warmed myself and then went to work to get breakfast for myself and tent-mates – H.L. Warner, W.P. Straits and Sergt. West.  After the meal was finished boots and saddles sounded and we saddled up.  I asked Sergt. West if I had not better make some pancakes to eat during the day, and receiving an affirmative reply went to get the frying pan off of my saddle, when I heard a shot and the enemy’s bugles sounded the charge.  I sprang for my horse but in the confusion he got away and I took leg bail.  I made for our ambulance train hopping to get another horse.  While en route I met Gen. Custer riding along through the lines giving his commands.  I finally reached the train and was trying to get another horse, when our doctor asked me what I was doing.  I told him.  He told me to crawl under the ambulance.  I did so.  No sooner had I hid myself than the train was surrounded by rebels.  One who appeared to be in command, said: “Boys, this train is ours; now go and give the Yankees h_ll.”  They all left and then I heard the command: “Rally for the hollow, 8^th.”  I thought the 8^th New York Cavalry was going to make a stand, so I went down there in hopes of gobbling some poor devil’s horse.  No sooner had I reached the hollow than up rode a rebel and asked me what regiment I belonged to.  I told him.  He said: “Surrender you Yankee son of a b___h.”  He took my watch, gloves, boots, when an officer rode up and told me to go with him.  He turned me over to another man and told him to take me to a piece of woods which he pointed out to him, and we started.  Just before reaching the woods a regiment moved out.  The command halt was given.

“What regiment do you belong to?”

“Twenty-second New York Cavalry,” my captor said.

“Don’t shoot boys, he is one of our men.”

“He lies,” said I, “he has got me a prisoner.”

Of course the Johnny was gobbled.  It proved to be the 1^st Vermont Cavalry which charged down in the hollow and made the rebels get up and get.  On my way back to my own regiment I fell in with Sergt. McAllen of my company.  Proceeding along together we discovered Timothy Coughlin of the 15^th pinned to the ground, his horse having been shot and falling on him.  Having extricated him he was asked if he was hurt.

“No,” was his answer, “but be jasus my carbine is broke.”

                Comrade Hines has a hard tack in his possession to-day that was issued to him on the 26^th of February, 1865.

 

A BRAVE SOLDIER

                Comrade Brill, of Co. H, had quite an experience at Lacey Springs.  He had not been long in this country when he enlisted, having emigrated from Germany.  The only English he could speak was “Son of a b___h.”  He managed to mount his horse on the morning of the scrimmage, but in his haste he forgot his sabre.  During the melee a rebel rode up to him and demanded his surrender.  Brill replied, “Son of a b___h.”  For this he was whacked over the head  with a sabre in the hands of the rebel.  Brill succeeded in wresting the sabre from him and knocked him senseless from his horse and took him prisoner to headquarters.  The Johnny proved to be a rebel major who afterwards told Gen. Custer that Brill was too brave a man to remain in the ranks.  After reaching Winchester Gen. Sheridan sent for Brill, and it was rumored he was sent to West Point on Sheridan’s recommendation.

 

A BRAVE SERGEANT

                Sergeant Eli Conklin, of Co. G, who was captured at the battle of Lost River Gap, Va., May 10^th 1864, tells a rather interesting story of his early acquaintance with the “gray coats.”  During the fight his horse became exhausted and Captain Hurd ordered hi to shoot the animal and take to the woods to avoid being captured.  The horse was shot but his escape was not so easily effected, and the sergeant soon found himself a prisoner.  He had just obtained before starting out on the reconnaissance a new pair of high topped cavalry boots which were much coveted by his newly made “friends” and their desire for possession was promptly made known.  The blue coated, high booted and high spirited prisoner informed the rebel General Imboden that the first man who took those boots would have to pull them from his dead body, and he also volunteered to whip any man in the general’s army who thought he could capture those boots.  However the interview impressed the officer and the boots were not molested, but the rebels robbed him of his coat and other valuables.  He wore the boots for two or three weeks and then traded them off to a Confederate for a pair of good shoes and $40 of southern money as a bonus.

                While on his way to prison the train on which he was ran into a deep cut at Danville, Va., and stopped.  Rebel hospitals were located in a field near the railroad, and soon quite a crowd gathered on the banks above to look at the Yanks and chaff them.  Sergeant Conklin was sitting on top of one of the box cars on which the officer in command of the train was riding, and had taken no part in the conversation.  Suddenly he looked up into the officer’s face and said:

“Cap, let me go up to that fellow,” meaning one who seemed to be the bully amongst the crowd.

“All right, go ahead,” said the officer.

Down went Conklin off the car and up the bank he went like a cat, and as he reached the top he sprang clear off his feet and let the fire eater have it between the eyes.  The rebel turned a double back somersault, and when he arose to his feet he made off at a 2:40 gait, amid the jeers of the crowd.

Sergeant Conklin’s honesty is shown by the following transaction: The boots he had on when captured he purchased of a member of his company who had received a box of them from home.  The sergeant agreed to pay fro them at the next pay day, the price being $8.  That was the last seen of the sergeant until after the regiment was discharged, when one day in walked the sergeant into the office where the man was employed who sold him the boots, and handed him the money for them.  The man tried to convince him that the debt was cancelled, but he would not hear to it and insisted on his taking the money.

 

LACEY SPRINGS

                The following account of the skirmish at Lacey Springs, Va., is kindly furnished by Capt. William F. Weller:

                One among the many most vivid and distinct recollections of stirring events occurred to the 15^th New York Cavalry on the morning of December 21^st, 1864, at a place called Lacey Springs, Va.  The weather at the time was all that could be desired for stirring as well as exciting events.  On this fateful morning at about 5 o’clock the regiment was called to horse amid one of the worst snow storms for that region, and under rather peculiar circumstances.  Perhaps I ought to have stated how we came to be there and by whom commanded.  If I recollect right the expedition was of the nature of a reconnaissance in force, consisting of Gen. Custer’s division of cavalry and a battery of artillery, with orders discretionary, which generally meant finding the enemy as well as feeling of him.  I always thought Gen. Custer had a weakness that way: that is, simply finding the enemy might satisfy belief, but feeling of him came nearer the naked truth.

Well, to return to the “stirring” event of the expedition.  The 15^th then brigaded with the 1^st Vermont and 8^th New York Cavalry (the comrade should also have said the 22^nd New York and the 1^st New Hampshire) and constituting the Second Brigade of the Third Cavalry Division, encamped in a field on the right of the pike after a long march the day previous.  The squadron, Cos. G and H, then under my command, picketed along a fence parallel with the pike and facing it.  The 8^th New York occupied a position along a fence at right angles with said pike and facing up the valley.

                Just about two minutes after the bugle sounded “to horse” in the morning, and about 5 o’clock, the well known rebel yell sounded, interspersed with firing, cutting and slashing of sabers, coming down in the direction of the position held by the 8^th New York, the result of which caused a momentary confusion in the last named regiment as they were in the act of mounting.  It so happened that I had mounted my command a little more prompt than usual, and hearing the cyclone of horse coming down on us I at once brought carbines to an advance, but dare not command fire; had I done so our gallant comrades of the 8^th would have suffered more than the enemy, as not a man could be recognized on account of the fast falling snow and the dense fog prevailing at the time.  I at once gave orders to move to a more favorable locality.  Whether the squadron moved by my orders or the more emphatic orders of the cyclone I never knew, but the circumstances and the nerve and sinew of the “white mare” soon found me on the pike passing a regiment of the enemy’s cavalry at a halt and headed in the direction of New Market or down the valley.  Upon reaching the head of this column, where some sharp skirmishing took place, my horse made some of her most energetic leaps, and upon closer examination found several horses and their riders hors du combat in the road and blocking the way.  At the same time not a man could be recognized upon the closest inspection.  I never placed much confidence in the theory of being born to luck, and even to the present time  am inclined to think that the instinct of my horse led me to where the squadron had again partially reformed – not unlikely by the same horse instinct – on the opposite side of the pike, where I found Capt. Moschell who had also reformed all of the 15^th that could be recognized, and many others that were not.  Daylight, however, soon came and order was again restored.  The enemy could be seen moving off in various directions towards the mountains.

                The object of the expedition having been accomplished, we took up our line of march in the direction of Woodstock, not without frequent skirmishing in the rear with those who hurried us into the saddle in the early morning.  The march of the regiment from Lacey Springs to Woodstock, I believe to have been one of the severest of its experience, necessitating the relieving of pickets every hour of the night.

 

IN MEMORIAM

                The following is a sketch of the life of the late surgeon of the 15^th New York Cavalry, George V. Skiff, who died while the history of the regiment was being compiled:

[From the Pike, (Wyoming Co.) Gazette]

                As briefly announced in last week’s issue of the Gazette, Dr. Geo. V. Skiff died in New York City on the morning of January 28^th, 1890.  He was born at Pike, at that time in the Allegheny county, March 11^th, 1836, and was therefore in the 54^th year of his age.  Early in life he attended the district schools of his neighborhood, and was later a student at the Rushford Academy.  At the age of nineteen he began teaching school, which business de followed for two years until he began the study of medicine under the instruction of Dr. Isaac Minard of this village.

                He attended his first of lectures at Ann Arbor, Mich., afterwards receiving his degree from the University of the city of New York.  He first located at Perry, N.Y., but in a short time removed to Wiscoy.  He remained at Wiscoy until 1862 when he went to war, bearing a commission as assistant surgeon of the 12^th New York Infantry.   With this regiment his service was chiefly before Fredericksburg under Generals Hooker and Burnside.  Upon the expiration of the two years term of enlistment of this regiment, he, with other officers, went to Syracuse and organized the 15^th New York Cavalry, of which he was commissioned surgeon.  This regiment was assigned to the Third Cavalry Division, then under the command of Gen. Custer.  His service with the 15^th Cavalry was in the Shenandoah Valley under Gen's. Sigel, Hunter, and Sheridan.  At the close of the war he was division surgeon of the Third Division of Cavalry on the staff of Gen. Wells.

                The regiment was mustered out of service in August, 1865.  After a brief rest at home he went to New York City and established himself in the practice of his profession, remaining there until his death.

                Dr. Skiff’s well earned popularity as an army surgeon had preceded him, and immediately after opening an office in the city he became associated with the leading physicians and surgeons.  He was placed in charge of the Eastern Dispensary, one of the large medical charities of the metropolis.  He held this position to the entire satisfaction of the city until his increasing private practice necessitated his resignation of it.  His acknowledged success won him many patrons both within and beyond the limits of the city.

                He was an active and useful member of the leading medical societies of New York, and of various social organizations in the part of the city where he resided.  He was also prominent in the Grand Army of the Republic and in several other secret societies.

                Dr. Skiff was noted for his devotion to his profession and its duties, and for his earnest, patient attention to those who committed themselves to his care.  He was always a close student, and believed that the experience and studies of each day should prepare him for a more intelligent and successful performance of the duties of the morrow.  Socially he was genial and attractive, and was always a welcome guest in the best families in any community where he lived.  Religiously, he made a profession of faith in Jesus Christ in early life.  Remembering this early choice of the Lord he sought to be faithful in this highest vocation, as in all his other duties.  “Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth.”

                The funeral services were held Thursday afternoon, January 30^th, 1890, at the residence of his father, M.P. Skiff, conducted by the Rev. H.T. Chadsey, assisted by Rev. S. Hough.  The interment was at the beautiful cemetery at East Koy.