By March of 1865, the Army of Northern Virginia was starving in its trenches around Petersburg. For months they had clung stubbornly to their lines—cold, ragged, sick, half-fed. Desertion drained their numbers every night. Disease picked off the weak. The men joked grimly that their rations were "mule meat and memories."
General Robert E. Lee knew it could not last. On March 6th, he summoned his trusted 2nd Corps commander, Major General John B. Gordon, to his headquarters. Lee’s lined face was grave. He spoke softly but clearly:
“There seemed to be but one thing that we could do—fight. To stand still was death.”
They both understood the truth: the noose was tightening. Grant’s armies were pressing from all sides. Supplies were dwindling to nothing. The railroads were nearly cut. If they waited, they would starve or surrender.
Gordon left that meeting with a desperate plan taking shape in his mind. He picked the most vulnerable spot on the Union line—Fort Stedman, just yards from the Confederate trenches at Colquitt’s Salient. If they could punch through there before dawn, they might rupture Grant’s siege lines, seize the Union supply depot and railroad behind the fort, and force Grant to lift the siege or fall back.
It was, by any measure, a gambler’s move—a roll of loaded dice for the fate of the Confederacy.
For days Gordon carefully planned every step. He gathered about 15,000 men, including his own three divisions, two brigades from Bushrod Johnson’s Division, and four brigades in reserve from the 3rd Corps. Facing them were the veterans of Union General John Parke’s 9th Corps.
The night before the attack was moonless and bitter cold. The men huddled in the dark, checking muskets, whispering final words. Somewhere, a chaplain murmured a prayer. Others sat silent, lost in thoughts of home.
At 4:15 a.m. on March 25th, in the blackness before dawn, it began.
First came the pioneers—quiet as ghosts—slipping forward to dismantle the deadly tangle of Union obstructions. Behind them crept a handpicked assault team: ten men from every regiment in Ransom’s Brigade, led by Lieutenant Joseph B. Hawkins of the 25th North Carolina. Their orders were stark: take the fort in silence. Muskets were unloaded so no one would fire prematurely.
How they did it remains a mystery. Some say they pretended to be deserters. Others believe they simply moved with such shocking speed and stealth that the Union pickets didn’t see them coming.
However it happened, within minutes they were inside Fort Stedman. Men tumbled over parapets, clubbed sentries with musket butts, and seized the artillery. One Union officer would later write:
“They fired no shots, but used the butts of their muskets.”
Chaos erupted in the Union lines. Sleepy defenders scrambled from bunks in shirts and socks, fumbling for cartridge boxes. Shouts and curses mingled with the clang of bayonets in the dark.
Colonel Napoleon McLaughlen, commanding the sector, rushed from his quarters. Hearing shouting, he tried to rally his men—only to realize too late he was giving orders to Confederates. A voice barked from the shadows:
“Surrender!”
It was Lieutenant William Gwyn of the 31st Georgia. McLaughlen had no choice. He was captured on the spot and hauled before Gordon, surrendering his sword.
By now Gordon’s full assault columns were pouring through the breach. Confederate sharpshooters spread out to seize neighboring batteries. Union trenches fell one after another. In less than an hour, over 1,000 feet of Federal lines had been captured.
Gordon sent word to Lee: Success.
But the plan was already unraveling at the edges. Gordon ordered Evans’ Division south to storm Fort Haskell, hoping to widen the break. But there the Union gunners were ready. Canister rounds roared into the ranks, tearing men apart in smoking blasts. Infantry scrambled to the walls, musket barrels flashing.
A Pennsylvania infantryman remembered:
“The boys were asleep at the first volley, but grabbed guns and cartridge boxes, not even stopping to dress. Some were barefooted; some only with shirts and pants on.”
Companies split and scattered under the pounding. Some found refuge in old rifle pits. Others bolted for Fort Haskell.
Meanwhile, Confederate reinforcements failed to arrive. Pickett’s Division came too late. Rooney Lee’s cavalry couldn’t find a gap to exploit.
Union General John Parke saw the danger clearly. He wasn’t about to let Grant’s supply lines fall. Acting fast, he ordered Brigadier General John F. Hartranft’s Division—many of them green Pennsylvania volunteers—into the fight.
By 7:30 a.m., Hartranft’s men had sealed the breach just short of the vital U.S. Military Railroad depot at Meade Station.
Gordon realized the gamble had failed. He ordered a withdrawal. But it was too late.
At 7:45 a.m., Hartranft counterattacked. His brigades swept forward in a deadly semicircle, pouring musket and artillery fire into the trapped Confederates. Panic spread. Commanders shouted themselves hoarse trying to rally men who bolted for their own lines.
One Confederate officer, Colonel Henry Rutledge of the 25th North Carolina, stood defiantly with his cap on his sword, shouting:
“Don’t let them take our front, Twenty-fifth, the Twenty-fifth has never had her front taken!”
But the Union volleys smashed into them. Within minutes, Rutledge’s regiment was in ruin—many killed, wounded, or taken prisoner.
A North Carolinian later recalled:
“Some laid down and was taken prisoners, but when I thought of Point Lookout [prison camp] you better know I come out.”
By mid-morning, the Union 100th and 208th Pennsylvania had retaken Fort Stedman completely.
The battle lasted barely four hours. The Union lost about 1,044 men—72 killed, 450 wounded, 522 missing or captured. The Confederates lost over 4,000 men—killed, wounded, captured.
Men Lee could not replace.
It was the last serious attempt to break Grant’s grip on Petersburg. The Army of Northern Virginia was now spent. Barely ten days later, Grant’s forces would smash through the Confederate lines for good. Lee’s battered army would begin its final retreat toward Appomattox Court House, where the war would end at last.
