The Front at Petersburg
For almost 13 days, George and the remnants of the Eighth Maine regiment remained at Cold Harbor. As things settled down, they spent their days collecting their dead and nursing their injured. George with the nervous energy and cockiness of youth would take off for hours at a time foraging for his battle brothers.
He dodged Rebel sentries, sharp shooters and angry Southern farmers to beg, borrow and steal whatever he could. With supplies running low, his only thought was to bring back something special to cheer up his faithful friends. On one mission he found an orchard and filled his pockets and sack with as many apples as he could carry. George was so excited to surprise the regiment with applesauce that evening (without sugar which they did not have). His heart was in the right place, but unfortunately the apples must have been spoiled and the men were sick with the runs the next day. That almost put an end to his illicit scavenging. Almost.
Eventually the battalion was given the orders to march. One dark night in a skirmish outside of Petersburg, a shell landed in the middle of his company. Bullets were soon flying in all directions and George who had yet to shoot a gun in this War took off running. He ran, ducked and crawled until he found himself completely turned around and was not sure if he was running towards his camp or towards the enemy. Ahead was a traditional Southern mansion with a white picket fence and derelict slave cabins. He crept through the creaky gate towards a chicken house he had spotted in the yard. The fighting completely forgotten, all he could think about was bringing back some chickens to camp. What a hero he would be! Hearing the clucking of the chickens he slipped in without a thought but immediately froze as he saw two enemy soldiers sitting on a bench against the wall. Again, George’s incredible luck held. Those two soldiers were deserters who wanted to give themselves up! Proud as a peacock George marched those two back to headquarters. He was offered a two week furlough for his heroism. Later he snuck back out and took five chickens from that chicken coop which he boiled then saved until he found his brother Charley.
George may have been the luckiest boy in the Civil War. I am sure that his family enjoyed his letters home bragging about his exploits, but mostly they were probably warmed by the thought of the two brothers together. Charley looking after the precocious George as battles were waged.
me and lizzie may 